Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Post Wonder Years

Got an email today from Thomas Cook to inform me that my application for a customer advisor position was unsuccessful. It took a week for them to get back to me, and it's the second time I've applied to a travel agents. I've been going for that kind of job 'cos they ask for two A levels (I have three at A grade), and the pay is about twelve grand a year. As I need to make a lot of money fast, it's an attractive choice. I also applied at the same time to work behind the bar at Earl's Court tonight for the BRITs. That ceremony awards the shitters of the industry: Robbie Williams getting the Lifetime Achievement? And the nominees for the best British album from the past thirty years - what was that about? Duffy? Keane? It's like a fucking joke. The worthiest winner, my beloved Oasis, triumphed, but it weren't even for the masterpiece that is Definitely Maybe. And why wasn't the Arctic Monkey's debut nominated? The BRITs just seem to award the stupid person's idea of good music. I never received a response from my application. I had to send them a photo as well, and it punctures my self esteem as I stew over the possibility that the BRIT bar committee could've turned me down 'cos they reckon I'm ugly or whatever.

I've got an interview this Friday. It's for a Support Worker. I'm not quite sure what the job even entails but it said "no experience necessary" and pays thirteen grand a year. This will be my first interview since November, and I'm actually quite excited. When I first heard the message on my voicemail about the interview, my immediate response was to not go. I don't know why but every time I do get a response back from applications, there is a part of me which hopes I'm unsuccessful for a moment.

Last week was pretty epic. I told my brother and his girlfriend to "fuck off." It was cathartic for like five minutes, then it just wore off. It's 'cos the level of anger I expressed didn't do justice to a year's worth of tongue biting. I live in a totalitarian household run by brother Greg and his skin crawlingly annoying Canadian girlfriend Sarah. She moved in for a few months in 2008 before going back to Canada. Sarah then returned in May of last year, with bull about joining the Met and moving out with my brother by September. Neither happened, and it looks like they're here for a indefinite amount of time. Greg is 23 and has never had a job, paid rent or contributed in any way to his keep. This obviously limits his chances of moving out, thus contributing to my desperation of getting out.
My mum went to Spain on Thursday to visit my other brother Michael. I was dreading being left with them two. I eventually went to my boyfriend Joel's on Friday night, leaving Greg and the Canadian to play house. Being at Joel's basically involves eating, drinking, watching Seinfeld, Peep Show, Curb and so on, and him occasionally playing the Xbox whilst I sigh, read or listen to my ipod. It can get really boring, but he never seems to find it that way. I get so bored that it puts me in a mood. On Saturday, I was literally in Joel's room all day. I got to his at 8:30 pm on the Friday, and didn't venture back down the stairs until 6:30 pm on Sunday. I don't feel like I can complain about it to Joel though as I'm unemployed. If I say I'm bored, he might suggest we go out, and I can't pay my way so I can't expect to go anywhere.

My best mate Cassie is being a weirdo at the moment. I met her during my first year at college. She has been diagnosed with bipolar disorder (I'll save my opinions on that malarkey for some other time), and I've had to scupper several suicide attempts of hers over the years. This fatal depression ended (for now) last Spring, then she underwent this massive make over and started to try and act differently. For instance she got really argumentative, tried to crack jokes all the time and started to wear skinny jeans and four inch heels wherever she went.
Cassie's had trouble with her weight throughout her life, and the doctors have been scaremongering her over the past two years saying that if she doesn't lose a couple of stone, she'll cause unrepairable damage to her knee (apparently she has bad joints). Since we left college she's been trying to lose weight. She loses a stone, puts it back on and does it again. Cassie started reading books about anorexia and made this screen saver for herself of very, very skinny girls who had taken thin to the extreme. I've seen her do this kind of thing before: adopt a disorder in a way and advertise it, then when you bring it up, she denies it and pragmatically announces how she can no longer confide in you. At Christmas she revealed that she was going to go on a 40 day fast. Absolutely out her mind. I told her it was stupid and I knew she couldn't do it. It lasted four days according to her, but she still claims that it's a good idea just done at the wrong time as she was getting ready to re take her A levels. A couple of weeks back, my prophecy was fulfilled. She announced to me that she had "developed a bit of bulimia" and throws up her food. She says it like I never predicted it to her. I thought she had sorted herself out, but obviously not. I don't think it's bipolar or bulimia that she needs to be treated for, I think it's this mentality that needs to be treated of her replacing problems with new ones and desiring illnesses.
Cassie asked me round hers last Tuesday night. It was really cold outside and she lives about half an hour away. My bus runs once an hour after eight so I said I didn't fancy it. I haven't heard from her since. If things weren't they way they indeed are, I would've texted her days ago in a casual fashion and arranged something. The fact is though, I know she has spent the last week feeling hard done by, like I've got some hectic social lifestyle that's worthy of a Facebook gallery, and purposely throwing up making God damn sure that her mum is aware of it. If I went round there tomorrow, after half an hour of general chat, she'd inform me that her bulimia has reached epic proportions and she can't stop. The frustrating thing is, that if she weren't told to lose weight, this wouldn't be happening, bulimia wouldn't be her disorder of choice. But she would just pick something else and adopt that as the year's issue instead.

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