Dear Dobson,
My creative juices appear to have stopped flowing. I'm dry as a menopausal vagina and I blame one thing and one thing only for this arid state of affairs... Contentment.
Now don't get me wrong, life is not all peaches and cream, of course there are many things I would change or improve given the opportunity or the finances, but in general I don't know if I've ever had it so good.
I am unsure as to whether this new state of Zen comes as a result of maturity, wisdom, awareness and generally being comfortable in my own skin or as a result of things having previously been so shit that anything is an improvement. Having given it some thought, I believe it's the former.
Without going all hippy on your arse, I feel as if good is begetting good and it's fucking fabulous. My recent application form has earnt me an interview, my jazz duo is now a quartet with an impending gig at a Central London venue and I have a man who thinks nothing of repairing my mangled runner's toenails...
I feel as if I can have whatever I want right now. That concept scares me a little, but not enough to stop me asking. Sacrificing some of my creative juice doesn't seem like such a bad trade off to me.
Frankie
Showing posts with label career. Show all posts
Showing posts with label career. Show all posts
Thursday, 30 May 2013
Sunday, 12 May 2013
Highs And Lows
Dear Dobson,
My week, in a nutshell.
Low Point:
Parenthood has been one of this week's crashing lows. I've never rated myself much as a mother if I'm honest; I don't make my own houmous or anything, but I like to think I do a decent job and most importantly, my boys know they're loved. Unfortunately oldest has entered what we have labelled 'The P Zone' - yes indeed, as his thirteenth birthday looms, Puberty arrives and the odious stench of testosterone hangs heavy in the air like ammonia. All kinds of muscles are currently getting a good flexing.
He has behaved appallingly of late and I yearn for the days when a clip around the ear wasn't something that could land you in court. If this is just the beginning of a catalogue of heinous pubescent behaviour then I'd like to terminate my contract here and now.
What do you mean I can't terminate my contract?
I suppose I simply attempt to muddle through the best I can, like many other parents have before me - except my own mother of course who did less than her best, but that's a whole other story I can't be arsed investing any energy in right now...
High Point:
The Love Train is stoked full of coal and is chugging along beautifully. I don't know where it's destined to go, but being aboard it makes me very happy. The Man is warm, wonderful and uncomplicated - I love having him in my life.
Any Other Business:
The application form has gone away. The waiting game commences. I shall know within three weeks or so if I'm up for interview. Obviously they'd be mad not to take me.
I went to the cinema to see the new Star Trek film and found myself strangely drawn to Spock. I never thought I'd use a Vulcan as stimulus for a wank.
I miss you and would like you to come back.
Frankie
My week, in a nutshell.
Low Point:
Parenthood has been one of this week's crashing lows. I've never rated myself much as a mother if I'm honest; I don't make my own houmous or anything, but I like to think I do a decent job and most importantly, my boys know they're loved. Unfortunately oldest has entered what we have labelled 'The P Zone' - yes indeed, as his thirteenth birthday looms, Puberty arrives and the odious stench of testosterone hangs heavy in the air like ammonia. All kinds of muscles are currently getting a good flexing.
He has behaved appallingly of late and I yearn for the days when a clip around the ear wasn't something that could land you in court. If this is just the beginning of a catalogue of heinous pubescent behaviour then I'd like to terminate my contract here and now.
What do you mean I can't terminate my contract?
I suppose I simply attempt to muddle through the best I can, like many other parents have before me - except my own mother of course who did less than her best, but that's a whole other story I can't be arsed investing any energy in right now...
High Point:
The Love Train is stoked full of coal and is chugging along beautifully. I don't know where it's destined to go, but being aboard it makes me very happy. The Man is warm, wonderful and uncomplicated - I love having him in my life.
Any Other Business:
The application form has gone away. The waiting game commences. I shall know within three weeks or so if I'm up for interview. Obviously they'd be mad not to take me.
I went to the cinema to see the new Star Trek film and found myself strangely drawn to Spock. I never thought I'd use a Vulcan as stimulus for a wank.
I miss you and would like you to come back.
Frankie
Tuesday, 30 April 2013
Procrastination And Taramasalata
Dear Dobson,
Whilst you're up in court today, being one of twelve men good and true, I am at home sitting on my arse eating taramasalata and Turkish bread and mostly procrastinating like a bastard.
I am supposed to be filling in the application form for the next level of my course, but it's all way too demanding for a Tuesday. They want to know things like 'Why?', 'How?', 'What?' and 'Do you have any mental health problems?'
As a result of the cursed application form, today's agenda has consisted of the following; I have carried out several menial housework tasks, been for a run, showered, Facebooked, logged my run, had a few games of Diamond Twister 2, drunk copious amounts of tea and managed to sandwich several wanks between all of the above. I am now eating and blogging simultaneously - there is no end to my talents.
There is, of course, a deadline for the application - Tuesday 7th May - but that's ages away non? After all it's still April and you know how I work better under pressure... If my current modus operandi is anything to go by, I'm pretty sure there will be plenty more riveting posts for you to read before then. I'll bet you can't wait.
Frankie
Whilst you're up in court today, being one of twelve men good and true, I am at home sitting on my arse eating taramasalata and Turkish bread and mostly procrastinating like a bastard.
I am supposed to be filling in the application form for the next level of my course, but it's all way too demanding for a Tuesday. They want to know things like 'Why?', 'How?', 'What?' and 'Do you have any mental health problems?'
As a result of the cursed application form, today's agenda has consisted of the following; I have carried out several menial housework tasks, been for a run, showered, Facebooked, logged my run, had a few games of Diamond Twister 2, drunk copious amounts of tea and managed to sandwich several wanks between all of the above. I am now eating and blogging simultaneously - there is no end to my talents.
There is, of course, a deadline for the application - Tuesday 7th May - but that's ages away non? After all it's still April and you know how I work better under pressure... If my current modus operandi is anything to go by, I'm pretty sure there will be plenty more riveting posts for you to read before then. I'll bet you can't wait.
Frankie
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