…bygones

How many times can I use the same joke? Doesn’t make it any less funny though…

Our new friend Reebie came for a visit last night and had great stories to tell and jokes.

He also sang us a wee song.

Have a look:

Meet Reebie.

He’s Kev’s pal, too.

Telling me a story.

Coming soon…Reebie sings us a song…

…Continued from previous post.

That rant done, I then moved quickly into another realm of discontent with the threatened destruction of Otago Lane.

During the recent election, local MP candidates were using this potential closure on their platforms. Save Otago Lane! Sign this petition! Elect me, and I’ll do something about it!

Ok, so do something about it.

I have to say that I love Otago Lane. I took my parents there when they first came to visit and they were sufficiently charmed by its cobbled stones, antique buildings, Voltaire and Rousseau which literally has mountains of used and rare books, and of course, Chai Ovna, which is by far the best tea room I have ever graced.

Now they want to tear all of it down to build four blocks of flats, up to 9 storeys high.

Let me veer off from Otago Lane for just a moment to tell you what really attracted me to Glasgow.

It’s pretty.

There is, in every city, some eye-sores, but for the most part, I was lured in by the charm of hundred year old buildings, deep sandstone flats and yes, every once in a while, a spiral staircase with stone steps so worn that they bow toward the middle and lead nowhere.

Have you ever walked down the street in Glasgow, and, amidst the beautiful sandstone building, seen a new build and thought, ‘Good god that’s ugly.’

Why do that to Otago Lane?

Ok, so I am making an argument based on aesthetics, but let me now point you toward the economic:

The shop owners of Otago Lane are not corporations. Voltaire and Rousseau (the book shop) is run by one man. He does have help, maybe, but I’ve never seen anyone else in there but him. And the same goes for the other book shops, the used record shop, Chai Ovna and the clock repair place.

There’s something to be said about fighting for the ‘little guy’; the independent business owner. I’ve been seeing ads up everywhere from Business Gateway encouraging people to start their own business, so why would Glasgow then turn around and try to shut them down?

So, I’ve signed the petition. I’ve been keeping up to date on the Save Otago Lane! website, and I’ll do whatever I can to keep from letting this charming corner of Glasgow go to ruins.

I’ll encourage you all to do the same, but it’s up to you. Sign, don’t sign. Agree or disagree. I can’t tell you what to think. And if it took half of my life to shed my complacency, then I’m in no position to tell you that it’s time to shed yours.

But be on the lookout, because change is coming quickly to a theatre near you.

And one last word on complacency, I shall leave you with a quote:

And instead of saying, “Well, excuse me, you right-wing, reactionary, xenophobic, homophobic, anti-education, anti-choice, pro-gun, Leave It To Beaver trip back to the Fifties…!”, we cowered in the corner, and said, “Please. Don’t. Hurt. Me.” No more. I really don’t care who’s right, who’s wrong. We’re both right. We’re both wrong. Let’s have two parties, huh? What do you say?

I have never been much of an activist. There, I said it. After 30-some years of complacency, I can only count a handful of times where a media article has got me lathered up.

There was the time I helped my friend run for president of the student Union; I have voted in the last 3 US elections and not just because it was my patriotic duty. And then there was the time when I was in high school were I volunteered to post up flyers about a missing girl whom I never knew and had never met.

Aside from general charity work, that’s it.

But recently, I feel the rebel in me poking her head up. Two instances in the last couple of weeks have gotten me sufficiently riled.

First, was the banning of the Reebok Ad from Glasgow Taxis.
A few things irked me about this:

• The council did not listen to the objections.
• They didn’t recognise their own double-standard (i.e. the other marketing campaigns which show scantily clad women in holiday and strip club adverts.
• The fact that Stephen McCranor was thrown out for making an objection.

When I first read the article, I admit that the Complacent Me was ambivalent until I got to the part

One councillor in particular is believed to have asked Mr McCranor to stop talking. When he kept talking, he was escorted from the meeting.

and I got all riled up. In an issue about censorship, censorship then ensued.

Oh no you di’n't!

A deep rumbling of what I assumed at the time was just a case of a hungry tummy, turned out to be the rumblings of rage against injustice. A councillor throwing impartiality out of the window just because he/she did not like what was being said. Or maybe the fact that it was contrary to his/her own opinion.

Censorship of any kind is a slippery slope. Where do you draw the line and who gets to decide?

In addition to my strong abhorrence of censorship, I was also embarrassed. Once a ‘City of Culture’ and the host of the 2014 Commonwealth Games, a simple ad promoting a shoe of all things has been banned from a global campaign.

Of all the major cities in the world, do you know how many have banned it?

One: Glasgow.

So here’s what I did:

I put on my Reebok EasyTones and met up with fellow activists in George Square to show my support.
Yes, I realise that me and 5 other people standing in George Square probably did not make much of an impact. But it wasn’t necessarily about telling the Council to shove it; it was about letting Reebok know that we support them (and Greaves Sports).

That rant done, I then moved quickly into another realm of discontent with the threatened destruction of Otago Lane.

To be continued….

All year long the sun is hidden behind clouds. Here, especially. We don’t see the sun very often, but we do know that it’s there. Vaguely.

What happens when the sun finally comes out? Everybody, and I mean, EVERYBODY comes out to enjoy it. The park is littered with pale bodies, like a flower stretching toward the light, soaking in every bit of sun that they can.

Summer is fun here; you go to the park and hang out. I usually like taking my blanket with me and sitting in the grass with a bottle of water, sunglasses, and a good novel.

The other great thing about summer here is beer gardens. Kev and I recently spent a good 12 hours in the front garden at Oran Mor. Pimms with lots of fruit and ice was just what the doctor ordered.

Kev and I ended up inviting everyone we know out to the beer garden, and had hours of fun. In fact, I think it was the most fun I’ve had in a while, if only because there was no planning involved in it whatsoever. And, as always, it was nice to get to see everyone and catch up.

Inevitably, there is always a bit of sadness once the sun goes back down, but the beauty about living this far north is that the sun doesn’t go all the way down, and even then, it doesn’t stay away very long.

Try sleeping when the sun is already coming up at 3am.

But who needs sleep when there are so many good times to be had?

There’s nothing like working for months on a project, only to have to rip it all out.

After applying for over 70 jobs these past months, I am spiralling in despair. I get so close sometimes, and am sure that I’ll be hired, and then, the inevitable rejection letter.

A few things annoy me about job hunting.

1. 1. The recruitment agencies never read my CV. I mean, actually don’t read it. I get rejection letters 30 mins after I’ve submitted my CV saying that I don’t match the skills requirements. It’s a lie. They’re lying to me.

   Here’s a dumb one: I actually emailed a company the other day just to request their job opportunities. I never sent them my CV, I never said what skills I had, and I never even mentioned what type of work I was looking for. And I got an email back saying, ‘We don’t have anything suitable for you at this time, but we’ll keep your CV on file and notify you if anything comes up.’

   Seriously? Where’d you get my CV, and when did you learn how to read minds?!

2. 2. There are so many candidates out there, that the competition is fierce. 450 applied for the last job I had an interview for. Now, sometimes I can be confident enough to say, ‘Yes, I am better than all of them because I am a ROCKSTAR!’, but that would be against a competition of maybe 100. Maybe. But not 450.
3. 3. Because there are so many people out of work, candidates are applying for jobs for which they are grotesquely over-qualified for. This pushes people like little-ole-me, who is struggling to get my size-5’s in the door out of the way. This, I suspect, is why I get the ‘you dont’ match the skills requirements’ letter. Because some jackass out there with an MBA from Harvard is taking my puny little admin job away from me.

   Now, I understand why people are doing it; why they are applying for jobs that they’re over-qualified for: It’s because there isn’t anything else out there. There just aren’t enough jobs to go around. And in a time of desperation, needs must.

   I get it. But I hate it.

4. 4. The arrogance of recruiters/employers. Oh yes, they’re loving this. It’s like shooting fish in a barrel. They get the cream of the crop. No longer do they have to settle for getting someone in to cover a job who is slightly under-qualified. No, no…they have candidates with top tier qualifications scrambling and fighting tooth and nail. They love it. They love being pursued, instead of doing the pursuing.

I feel like changing my cover letter to something a bit more angry, more sentimental. Something like a speech out of the West Wing or something, where I emphatically declare the previous points, and stress that, I am 33. I am qualified, I am energetic, and every single one of my previous employers has been very pleased with my performances. I’m talented, I’m driven, and I don’t think that you should compare me to the others who have applied. I think you should think of the role, then look at my CV and really read it this time. Because I think you’ll find, I am perfect for this role.

Ok, sorry about the rant. I’m pretty angry lately. I can’t promise not to talk about being unemployed again, but I’ll try to keep it down to a dull roar.

Ever wondered how I got here to Glasgow? Each week I’ll be presenting a doorway to the past…journal entries which chronicle my journey from a wee city in the Heartland of America to Glasgow, straight from my old journal.

June 12, 2003
Focus

There’s this funny thing about honesty. Not so much being honest, but having someone be honest with you.

It always struck me as a double edged sword before recently. I would want to hear someone give me their honest opinion, but at the same time I wouldn’t want to hear it, in case I couldn’t handle it. But if you don’t choose to hear it, then you always wonder and doubt.

Lately, I’ve adopted a “bring it” sort of policy. I’d rather hear the truth. I can take it. I want you to be honest. You don’t have to be mean or anything, you can just tell me what’s on your mind.

And I can say, “Thank you” and use that input to better myself if I choose to, or keep my shortcomings in mind.

My friend last night decided to be honest with me about my writing. Now, in all other areas of my life, including my appearance, I’m pretty ok about. My writing is actually one of the really touchy subjects, simply becuase I feel it’s so personal.

Anyhow, “bring it” and he was honest. He said that my writing is good, but I lack focus. I use the muse as an excuse to keep starting projects and never finish them. He said that I need to hold onto that energy and use it to my own advantage, that I need to start one project and keep on it until it’s finished.

I knew this was true anyway, and it’s interesting what I don’t think other people notice. So, he’s right. I do need to focus, and I should force myself to concentrate on one project at a time. It’s living the dream again…it’s not going to happen until you take steps to get it done. I’ve taken a couple of steps with my writing, but whatever’s holding me back needs to be taken care of, so I can finish something and be proud of it, not just the idea of it.

Still raining.

Ever wondered how I got here to Glasgow? Each week I’ll be presenting a doorway to the past…journal entries which chronicle my journey from a wee city in the Heartland of America to Glasgow, straight from my old journal.

So much cherry piecrust
June 12, 2003
The rest of yesterday went well. I got caught up trying to fix everyone’s blogs and then was late to taco night. Once there, I ordered tacos even though I wasn’t hungry, and therefore, they didnt’ taste quite as good as they should have.

Little Adam told me that he was going to send taco shells to me after I move to glasgow, in remembrance of taco night He’s such a cutie. Then he threatened to send me his new quesadilla maker that he got as a wedding present. That’d be cool, but it has a plug, so it’s a “no”.

Cory and Bill, who had decided at the beginning of the evening that they wouldn’t argue over anything at all that night becuase they were too tired, broke their pact after a few drinks and began an unending discussion over the creation of the universe, proof (or lack thereof) of a god, and how the Christian religion was simply based on a combination of many different religions.

Their talks are quite tiring, even for a casual observer, though I did manage to get myself mixed in a few times. Bill and Cory have completely different views on the ways of the world, politics, religion…just about everything. I think that the only thing they really agree on is that Wednesday is for Tacos and drinking. Well, at least they have one thing in common.

Bill is going to be studying in Lancaster when I’m in Glasgow and we have already made a pact to re-vive Taco night UK style while we’re there. He’s only staying for a semester though, but it’ll be comforting to know he’s around.

Today it is quite rainy outside, though it’s very warm rain and makes the air and the ground smell fresh and new. I love the smell of rain. If I though bottling rain would keep that fresh smell around, I’d try it, however, the romanticism of having a bottle of rain is that in a “glass is half-empty” sort of mood, you realize it’s just water.

I have just discovered that I cannot get the new sim’s expansion packs like I had thought, and will have to find some other way.

Colour me disappointed. dammit.

Oh well, bitka, it looks like i”ll be scouring your site for addons

*hugs and kisses*

As I mentioned in a previous post, Kev and I have been cultivating some vegetables and herbs in a little window garden in our kitchen.

We were particularly excited when we bought our Chilli Pepper Kit; images of always having fresh chilli peppers were floating through our minds; never again would we be slaves to Roots and Fruits. We could spice up our lives any time we wished!

Yeah, that’s all well and good if your chilli pepper plant actually grows.

For a couple weeks, our pot has sat empty, save for some very expensive nutrient-enriched soil. And I must admit that I had my doubts about whether the Chilli Pepper Kit was a good investment or not.

It seems, however, that we have a gift for making things grow where they shouldn’t be. In the case of our peace lily, Allen. Allen, surprisingly, has not been killed by our over-eager green thumbs. And it appears that no matter how hard we try to drown him, or starve him, or neglect him, he keeps on perking back up again.

Recently, Allen got a wee pal growing next to him in his pot. We didn’t know where this plant came from, or how, but we decided that we’d keep it. And his name is now Allen’s Pal.

So, bemoaning our chilli pepper plant failure to our friend, Simon, we pointed out that while the chilli peppers were a no-go, we did have Allen’s Pal and we didn’t even have to try, you know? He just wanted to grow there.

And Simon took a look at Allen’s Pal and said, ‘That’s a chilli pepper plant.’

Woo hoo! Without even trying, people, without. EVEN. TRYING.

Still have no idea how he got there. Maybe I was a bit flingy with the seeds when I was cutting chillis once? Dunno. But I’m thinking about changing Allen’s Pal’s name to ‘Chilli Allen’.

Oh, come on. That was funny!

At any rate, our strawberry plant is coming along nicely. No fruit yet, but she’s still flowering away. And the other day, she got a little pal. Just someone to keep her company and to keep her free of bugs.

I haven’t given her a name yet. Any suggestions?