You'd think with the amount of people getting fired that it would be easy to research 'how to fire someone' But nooooooo...Yet another reason to hate studying has arisen. I waver between continuing with this crap and trying to get into the TAFE beauty school again this summer....I could save up and open my own shop (happy fantasies) and have a big aquarium full of hideously deformed goldfish (my fave sort) and rip out peoples under-arm hair all day...*and puff!! fantasy vanishes into thin air!*. Going by what my beautician tells me, you get pervert grandfather-types coming in who want you to tie them up and wax their smelly, saggy, yellow skinned grandpa-bums...I have fantasies about chasing them out the shop with a fire extinguisher while their pants are still around their ankles...they'd probably like that too.
I qualify for the Dame Roma Mitchell scholarships, so I could pay for it...maybe I should just try so I have the option.
I have no-one who is in a position to make demands on what I should do with my future...the freedom is good but sometimes I feel like I need a rudder....I never feel comfortable asking for advice from my friends.
Don't think I will ever know exactly what I want.
Right now I want mangoes, warm salt water (BROOME!!), money, chocolate, grilled seafood (bugs and prawns and scallops) plus more...
I found the two good things today...a tiny pastel coloured late 80's scooter at Honda world (it's mine, you can't have it)...it's like a musk-lolly cake decoration with silver icing wheels (I doubt it will smell so good) and a coffee cup at the Salvo's that had little sneakers printed all over it. I got all excited until I realised that there was a huge crack in the handle
I have just had a super sneaky good idea. Tomorrow I will sojourn to a library and request an interview re. their performance evaluation/how to sack some poor bastard procedures...if the front door is shut, try a skylight. It is good to write it down here because by tomorrow I will have forgotten..
null14/09/2005 BAD DAY (SORT OF...)
What a shit morning. I checked my bank account and there is not enough money in it...so I trek off to C-link to discuss the problem; namely despite working I am receiving less than welfare benefits. On the way I am already getting worked up, there's something about this place that produces immediate-onset Tourette's syndrome coupled with hysteria. I'm feeling hot and am jumping to the worst conclusions about everything. I hate the thought of my life being fucked with by random arseholes.
There's no queue so I begin discussing my money-less status with the man at the counter (lets call him Mike cos that's his human name, his real name is probably Hitler or android 187 or something...I don't know what the zombie slugs of planet shit-hole call their spawn). I don't know where they find these people, I was getting a bit teary about having a fortnightly income of $60 less than what C-link pays to full time recipients.
Mike sits there looking smug and fat and middle class. He explains to me in his horrible smarmy voice that it's because my 'deductions' have risen. Namely that I am losing certain other C-link benefits that enable people to.. well...y'know...LIVE and EAT and stuff. Apparently I should be very grateful to be one of swelling ranks of working poor. Mike doesn't even offer me a tissue (that would require empathy, you see, dear reader...and it probably wouldn't do to give anything more to these blood sucking dole bludgers..next time I come in I might expect the whole friggen box..).
My nose's filling up with snot from all the crying....I contemplate blowing my nose noisily into my hands and smearing it on the desk.... decide it isn't worth the childish satisfaction it will give. It wouldn't bother Mike the Shit, he'd get a work-for-the dole person to clean it off with their tongue while he rests his foot on the back of their head. So I see someone else who is a bit nicer, but who tells me the same thing and then says in a whisper that I shouldn't try to earn more than X amount per week because otherwise this will happen regularly. I'm being penalised for working too much.
I come home. My house is cold and I'm just so worried about everything..why can't I just get put onto contract at work? I sit on my bed for a while and hunch up my shoulders and just cry it out. Then I get angry because I hate crying. I just have to learn to be more adaptable and fricken toughen up a bit. Don't show people that they get to you.
I qualify for the Dame Roma Mitchell scholarships, so I could pay for it...maybe I should just try so I have the option.
I have no-one who is in a position to make demands on what I should do with my future...the freedom is good but sometimes I feel like I need a rudder....I never feel comfortable asking for advice from my friends.
Don't think I will ever know exactly what I want.
Right now I want mangoes, warm salt water (BROOME!!), money, chocolate, grilled seafood (bugs and prawns and scallops) plus more...
I found the two good things today...a tiny pastel coloured late 80's scooter at Honda world (it's mine, you can't have it)...it's like a musk-lolly cake decoration with silver icing wheels (I doubt it will smell so good) and a coffee cup at the Salvo's that had little sneakers printed all over it. I got all excited until I realised that there was a huge crack in the handle
I have just had a super sneaky good idea. Tomorrow I will sojourn to a library and request an interview re. their performance evaluation/how to sack some poor bastard procedures...if the front door is shut, try a skylight. It is good to write it down here because by tomorrow I will have forgotten..
null14/09/2005 BAD DAY (SORT OF...)
What a shit morning. I checked my bank account and there is not enough money in it...so I trek off to C-link to discuss the problem; namely despite working I am receiving less than welfare benefits. On the way I am already getting worked up, there's something about this place that produces immediate-onset Tourette's syndrome coupled with hysteria. I'm feeling hot and am jumping to the worst conclusions about everything. I hate the thought of my life being fucked with by random arseholes.
There's no queue so I begin discussing my money-less status with the man at the counter (lets call him Mike cos that's his human name, his real name is probably Hitler or android 187 or something...I don't know what the zombie slugs of planet shit-hole call their spawn). I don't know where they find these people, I was getting a bit teary about having a fortnightly income of $60 less than what C-link pays to full time recipients.
Mike sits there looking smug and fat and middle class. He explains to me in his horrible smarmy voice that it's because my 'deductions' have risen. Namely that I am losing certain other C-link benefits that enable people to.. well...y'know...LIVE and EAT and stuff. Apparently I should be very grateful to be one of swelling ranks of working poor. Mike doesn't even offer me a tissue (that would require empathy, you see, dear reader...and it probably wouldn't do to give anything more to these blood sucking dole bludgers..next time I come in I might expect the whole friggen box..).
My nose's filling up with snot from all the crying....I contemplate blowing my nose noisily into my hands and smearing it on the desk.... decide it isn't worth the childish satisfaction it will give. It wouldn't bother Mike the Shit, he'd get a work-for-the dole person to clean it off with their tongue while he rests his foot on the back of their head. So I see someone else who is a bit nicer, but who tells me the same thing and then says in a whisper that I shouldn't try to earn more than X amount per week because otherwise this will happen regularly. I'm being penalised for working too much.
I come home. My house is cold and I'm just so worried about everything..why can't I just get put onto contract at work? I sit on my bed for a while and hunch up my shoulders and just cry it out. Then I get angry because I hate crying. I just have to learn to be more adaptable and fricken toughen up a bit. Don't show people that they get to you.
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
helly:
Yeah I like gymnastics that looks like it requires skill, Im sure cricketers have it too....its just not that easy to see
helly:
beautiful!!! send them my way!