4th January, 2009 (6:56 pm)
The Day With 2009 (4)
Have flu and a rotten chest infection which has rudely - and quite unusually, actually - inflamed my usually inconsequential asthma. Thanks, 2009 - this is an awesome start.
This has made me late in wishing everyone a happy new year, but I hope you know that that by no means waters down my good wishes. Hope you rang in the new year in whatever style floats your boat. I know I did!
Comments: (4)
3rd August, 2008 (10:14 pm)
The Day With the Brevity (7)
ARRGH. Updating this place has replaced my Japanese homework as my must-put-off-for-as-long-as-possible thing. Sorry. My bad.
In the interest of brevity (it’s late, I’ve got work tomorrow, I had a late one last night, a long day looming and have shitloads to do) here’s a bullet list to assure you that I’m neither dead nor, um, dying.
- France: REMIND ME TO UPDATE PROPERLY ABOUT THIS. We went to France for three days to visit one of my BFFs. It was all kinds of good, so much so that we’ve all been in something of a post-visit blues since returning Thursday. Sob.
- San Francisco: I know, I know - I haven’t updated you properly and now, you’ll have to wait until I come back to get the details. But the crux is, I’ve been invited by EA games on an all expenses visit to their HQ in San Francisco and give their latest survival horror title, Dead Space, a try. That’s right - ALL EXPENSES PAID.
Like I said, I’ll fill you in properly on the hows and whys and wheres when I get back Thursday, but I’m excited and scared and worried (could be elaborate grooming process and I’m going to end up in some sick bloke’s steak pie by the end of Tuesday) but . . . it’s just too good an opportunity, isn’t it? How can I not go? So yes, I’m a little concerned that I won’t be a good enough gamer (read: SHIT) and I’m pretty sure I’m the only contributor with tits.
If it makes you feel better, I’m only going for one night. Yes - I’m travelling zillions of miles to play a video game and stay ONE NIGHT. It’s stupid, but I’m having to come back a day early in order to ensure I’m here for little S’s birthday. (am bad mother for going?!). On the plus side, I don’t think I’m there long enough to even drum up jetlag. Heh.
- 5th Birthday: S turns five on Thursday - can you believe it? Today was his birthday party. (mental note: also write this up, V, before you forget). It all went to plan - yay - and it meant that my very best (non-French) friend had to cart herself, her man and her kiddies - including her newborn daughter - up to stay with us. I spent most of the weekend smelling baby E’s head (there’s something about the smell of a newborn scalp that makes my uterus simultaneously sigh and contract) and making plans to kidnap her. My plans were thwarted when I was asked to be her godmother. As no-one has ever deigned to entrust me with their offspring before (I have no nieces and my one nephew - M’s sister’s son - has yet to be Christened, although I quite frankly I don’t think I’m going to make the cut anyway) I promptly burst into tears and then had to abandon my plans to steal her. Bugger.
- Work: Got payrise. Have scandalous salary now. Tis awesome. Ironically still think am very poor though (we were broke so badly for so long) and agonise over everything I buy. Bought myself a Time Capsule today, but only after long argument with myself as I had also recently upgraded my XBox 360 and and Rockband etc, and so was being frivolous. M pointed out that the latter was a gift funded 90% by birthday donations and that I was being an arse. I agreed and hit ‘order’. Now feel sick with guilt.
- M’s work: M been promoted! He’s switching to shifts, which is hard, but am so, so proud of him - this is only the second job he’s ever gone for in ten years, and he was so anxious about it all. Will also update properly next weekend.
- Online Stuff: I’m lagging on blogs, LJ and forums of late. Eep. Sorry if I seem absent and I haven’t commented. Normal service will resume when I’m back on Thursday. I’m on leave for a fortnight then, so will probably veg around the house for two days and then pronounce that I’m bored. At that point you’ll probably be sick of my 27 updates a day. Apologies in advance.
- Misc.: There’s more. I’m certain of it. Only now it’s even later than when I started and I have to go to bed before I crash on my Mighty Mouse, so I probably need to leave it there. Can’t be bothered to proofread, either . . . hmm, that can’t be good - but I’m sure you kind souls will point out my numerous errors. In the meantime . . . how are you? Good? What have you been up to? Tell me all.
Comments: (7)
4th April, 2008 (10:45 am)
The Day With The Boy Research (7)
Because I’m a dedicated professional when it comes to my fiction (?), I’m a strong believer in research. Proper research; research that involves going places I’d not usually go to, talking to people I wouldn’t usually talk to, writing off and asking weird questions to people in professions I’ve never had, reading books I wouldn’t usually touch - fiction and non- . . . even research that sometimes doesn’t even include the internet. (Crazy stuff, eh?)
Getting into the mind of a man isn’t the easiest thing to do.
I think I’m closer to a guy’s way of thinking than a lot of women; I’m probably more man than girl with the constant profanity, copious speeding tickets, fondness of bitter and my games consoles and inability to cook, clean or iron very well. I’m hideously pessimistic and overly sarcastic, and I have a directness about me that’s sometimes rude, although it’s never - well, rarely - intended that way. I have no tolerance of the simpering female - I want to shake her until her eyes roll in their pretty made-up sockets and tell her to grow the fuck up, get some balls. I admire women who stay at home with their families because I sure as fuck couldn’t do it - there’s been a tide of hostility towards women who ’selfishly’ choose their careers over their kids but I can’t help who I am. If I stayed at home 24/7 to be a Mummy I’d lose my mind, and my son would have a perpetually depressed and occasionally psychopathic mother. On balance, I’m probably doing the right thing for him and, as I’ve said before on numerous occasions, my son will grow up knowing that parents are partners in all aspects of a marriage. He’ll know that if a woman chooses not to work then that’s okay, just as women who chose to keep working are too; in the end, it’s all about respecting our decisions as women and mothers and ensuring that we’re all informed enough and confident enough to make them in the first place. Me, I’ve never, ever not felt confident in this regard. I am who I am and I understand myself well enough to know what happened in my life to get me here. I respect who I am even if I don’t like me sometimes.
Despite this, I know that when it comes to relationships, I’m 100% female. I know because I’ve sat for hours next to a phone waiting for it to ring and checking every fifteen seconds that it’s working. I’ve done the addicted-to-1471 thing. I’ve taken hours and hours to get ready, making my eye make-up especially smoky, my hair sexily tousled and picked my underwear with pain-staking care only to have the guy tell me I look ‘nice’, walk past me and spend the night vomiting into a gutter. I’ve starved myself to drop a jeans size. I’ve binged. I’ve cried in a nightclub when a guy wouldn’t dance with me. I’ve fallen out with friends over men. I’ve looked for affirmation of who I am from men, used sex as a weapon, and my sexuality as a tool. My breasts are singularly responsible for one pay-rise I’ve received, and gotten me out of at least two speeding tickets. None of this makes me proud. In a lot of ways, I can very much still be that simpering female I fucking loathe.
So when it comes to putting across the male perspective in a relationship, it’s not as instinctive as writing as my damaged, commitment-phobic female lead. I’d use M’s guidance but since he’s possibly more of a girl than I am and useless in this regard (we’ve been together fourteen years and even now, if I sit him down to talk about our ‘feelings’ he goes pale and sweaty), he’s possibly not a reliable spokesperson for his gender. I have a male proofreader who offers hints and tips and keeps me on the path and as helpful as that is, I need more to really understand the male perspective. So while not an exact science, I immerse myself in the lads-mag culture; I subscribe to a lads’ magazine and a mens’ magazine, watch Sky Sports and Bravo (after which I often need a shower) and I eavesdrop on as many male-only conversations I as can to really nail the nuances of how they interact. I watch them when they shop. I watch them in bars. I watch them arguing with their other halves, playing with their kids . . . I take every opportunity I get and learn from every one.
I won’t insult your intelligence by professing surprise that men are often crippled by the same insecurities as we are; of course they are, it’s hardly a newsflash. We’re all human, with our own foibles and worries, fat bits and fucked-up bits. But the some of the dating articles . . . Oh. My. God. You need to see them to believe them.
Don’t get me wrong; I know Vogue and Cosmo can echo similar shit (and I don’t read that, either) but . . . please. Check out some of the comments. Is it any wonder some guys can’t get a fucking girlfriend?
Some research just isn’t worth doing. Particularly if I wish to avoid ending up with a male lead I want to drown in a bathtub.
Comments: (7)
9th December, 2007 (10:14 am)
The Day With The Typical Night (3)
12pm: Had nails done. Felt glamorous.
3pm: Got ready for night out. Sat in my bedroom like a teenage, putting on make-up and singing out loud. More glamour.
3.30pm: Arse fitted in old jeans again - hurray, am sex siren.
4pm: Met friends. Ate too much. Laughed too much.
8pm: Danced. A lot. Drank. A lot.
9pm: Danced some more.
9.30pm: Avoided cute but crazy man on dance floor who kept taking off shirt and rubbing himself against me. Ew.
10pm: Drank some more.
12am: Got home. Passed out.
Comments: (3)
27th March, 2007 (8:40 am)
The Day About The Other “Designers” (12)
I don’t really know how to say this without sounding like - oh, I don’t know, shall we try argumentative, elitist bitch? - but I’m going to say it anyway.
I am, by no means, the greatest web designer on the face of the planet. You know this, I know this. I fell into this as a hobby when trying to while away a little time whilst pregnant and then, later, when I was up at 3am with a screaming child with no ‘off’ switch. I don’t even pretend to be a programmer or a coder because I’m just not wired that way, and as much as I would love to be good at it, I’m always going to fall short. And as I don’t design this as a profession, it means that everything I do is a labour of love; I’m not paid to visit conferences or take training, and I don’t have access to the latest software and technologies. As such, I’m always going to be two or three steps behind the Big Boys, and I’m never going to be able to throw myself into this as much as professional c/would. Every time I produce something that I think is really beautiful or impressive it can take less than a five minute online browse to remind me how disillusioned I am and how, in actual fact, I’m an amateur. Geek Goddess is merely a wonderful hobby that keeps my brain sharp, my weekends active and pays enough to cover my eBay splurges and the occasional holiday. In short, it’s probably the best hobby a girl could get.
All that aside, I did major in Graphic Design in my first degree and got Firsts for every one of my paper-based projects (there was no such thing as the internet then, kiddos.). Despite being offered two junior designer positions shortly after graduation - one in London, one in Cardiff - the companies who offered them didn’t float my boat and, being the lunatic that I am, I turned them down: at that time all I wanted to do was write (designing was merely a way to make content look pretty). So although I have no formal training in web design, I do understand it - composition, fonts, colour (and lack thereof), structure etc. Web design offers the unique opportunity to draw in other variables like the art of navigation, ’skinning’ sites, fluid and fixed layouts, browser compatibility, accessibility etc. In summary, WEB DESIGN ROCKS. There’s nothing else like it to get the juices running of a designer with a geeky side.
Man, this is getting long. I’ll slap the rest under the cut. Bear with me; there is a point to this herculean monologue. Honest.
Comments: (12)
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