Another week. I apologise unreservedly for the lack of updates here recently and the lack of comments on sll my favourite must-reads -- I don't often get the chance to read or post from work, and by the end of the day I rarely want to spend more time at the computer. Rest assured, I am still around and grabbing my reading while i can.
So, what's new? Work continues to suck and blow in equal measure. I am hitting somewhere around 50% of my sales targets currently, and while I have days of lucidity where it will occur to me that if I work really, really hard then there is almost no limit to my earning potential, I quickly get disillusioned and would rather do something I enjoy for a decent wage. But hey, at least I have a job -- that's a step in the right direction. I recently interviewed elsewhere for a marketing role, and though I got on famously with the interviewer who was very senior in the company, their client didn't want to meet me and that was the end of it. I am choosing to think this was maybe a blessing in disguise, since the location was horrible.
Speaking of locations, the girl and I have been looking online for places to live in London. Reluctantly, we are having to admit that Greenwich in all its bohemian and center-of-the-earth wonder isn't going to happen, and that we can get more bang for our buck elsewhere. Somewhere with easy access to rock climbing as well as central London and road links to where my parents live are all top of the list -- and with reasonable property prices, it is Canary Wharf that is looking the most attractive.
I feel bad, though. I'm not particularly great at my job, and so my earnings are still quite low, and in turn this is causing us problems in finding somewhere in London -- the girl doesn't make bad money, but my half isn't quite measuring up; so sometimes I feel like I'm holding us both back. All isn't lost though. It's a quiet period in business almost everywhere so I can reasonably expect things to pick up there, and to get better at my job -- I can only get better at my job, right? Not least because we are being sent on a sales training course.
Sometimes in ym work I feel like I have a toolbox, filled with various useful things, and yet all I am using out of it most of the time is one screwdriver.
In other news, my beginner's climbing course is complete, so once I have taken an official safety test I will be free to climb without an instructor. I joined a rock climbing group on Meetup.com, but it seems their preferred venues at the moment are London's biggest and most popular indoor climbing centres. I might just try and find people to climb with at the wall where I've been going -- it's quieter, though obviously much smaller, but also open to the air. In time, once I've got the practice and gradually bought some equipment, I'll start finding outdoor excursions -- but one step at a time.
Maybe that idea isn't so unlike work?
And on an entirely unrelated option, I was thinking to myself early Facebook needs a "hell no" option as a response. "Do you want to be friends with this person?" Let's see, you never liked them when you were at school together and that was something like 15 years ago -- this isn't just a "yes" or "no" decision, it's a "hell no". Do you want to join the group for a Big Brother Reunion in Australia? Hell, no. So let me ask you -- what options would you like to see? Or maybe you would like to make the real world more like social networking, making it easier to hide or ignore people who annoy you, or just maybe you would like to live in the Ukraine with an adopted penguin, as I have been wondering this week? I encourage everyone to read Death and the Penguin by Andrey Kurkov, one of the most darkly brilliant books I have read in a while.
Saturday, 30 January 2010
Tuesday, 19 January 2010
Tongue that's sharp like a thumbtack
When I told my boss recently I couldn't work late on Thursday nights because I was starting a rock climbing course, she stared at me blankly. She stared at me and asked flatly if I was joking. I was puzzled and told her, no, I really couldn't work late on Thursday nights. Apparently I joke about things so often and so seriously when I'm serious it's hard to know if I'm being sarcastic -- she said it was like me saying I had a needlepoint class or something.
I take exception to this. I don't know if the impression people get from me is that I am as unlikely to go rock climbing as I am to go to a needlepoint class, or if she really can't tell what is meant to be serious. But to me, the two bear no comparison. but sure, I'm a funny guy -- if you take funny to mean "strange".
Anyway, this isn't another post about my stupid work. Instead it's a post about teh awesome that is rock climbing, and how I might be tempted to make Swiss Cottage leisure centre my spiritual home.
Sure, I've climbed before now. I'm kind of mad at myself for not getting into climbing when I lived in Utah, when it was such an ideal place to be doing it -- along with not getting into all-terrain boarding, and never really learning to snowboard properly. But I guess it wasn't the right time. As I say, I have climbed before but only in a couple of relatively brief one-off sessions. It was enough to know I liked it, obviously, or I wouldn't be doing the course -- however, now after only one official lesson so far I feel confident enough to rank it up there alongside swimming in greatness. I think if I had the time to do one or the other on alternating days I would be in a lot better shape than I am. But I think what climbing has in common with other activities I enjoy is the quiet moments of almost zen-calm.
The climbing wall, despite being housed in a leisure centre, was open to the elements -- which last week meant it was cold enough to see your breath in the air, and the ropes were both cold and wet. The condition of the rope wasn't much of an issue when you were climbing, only when you were holding the rope while someone else climbed -- then you noticed how quickly your hands got cold and numb. It was also cold enough for my toes to get numb. I'm going to be better prepared this week, even as I write this I am searching online for the right kind of gloves -- though I suspect serious climbers probably laugh at the idea of wearing gloves on a wall.
In many ways, the wall not being entirely indoors was a good thing -- it felt like I was actually doing something, instead of being somewhere hot and loud and probably smelly. The real test will be if I continue climbing on my own after my introduction course has finished, though that may involve trying to convince people I know that they want to take up climbing, too.
It's important to fill non-work time -- days and weeks -- with things we enjoy, it gives us something to look forward to and motivation to get out of bed. It might still be Ah crap when the alarm goes off, but if you then remember there's a great band playing in the evening or whatever then it can get you through. Last year I spent a lot of time going to the gym in the early mornings to get fit for Peru, but that was more of a threat -- if I didn't go to the gym then I would never make it Machu Picchu. It also has to be said; having someone pretty neat like the girl to come home to always helps, as well -- so I'm very lucky there.
That's the thinking, anyway -- but there's a tightrope between this and wishing your days away. Let's see how it works. Until then, though, share with me your thoughts and ideas -- either on the things that you fill in to your days and weeks, or how you manage to not wish away your days while still looking forward to something coming up. Our operators are waiting for your call.
I take exception to this. I don't know if the impression people get from me is that I am as unlikely to go rock climbing as I am to go to a needlepoint class, or if she really can't tell what is meant to be serious. But to me, the two bear no comparison. but sure, I'm a funny guy -- if you take funny to mean "strange".
Anyway, this isn't another post about my stupid work. Instead it's a post about teh awesome that is rock climbing, and how I might be tempted to make Swiss Cottage leisure centre my spiritual home.
Sure, I've climbed before now. I'm kind of mad at myself for not getting into climbing when I lived in Utah, when it was such an ideal place to be doing it -- along with not getting into all-terrain boarding, and never really learning to snowboard properly. But I guess it wasn't the right time. As I say, I have climbed before but only in a couple of relatively brief one-off sessions. It was enough to know I liked it, obviously, or I wouldn't be doing the course -- however, now after only one official lesson so far I feel confident enough to rank it up there alongside swimming in greatness. I think if I had the time to do one or the other on alternating days I would be in a lot better shape than I am. But I think what climbing has in common with other activities I enjoy is the quiet moments of almost zen-calm.
The climbing wall, despite being housed in a leisure centre, was open to the elements -- which last week meant it was cold enough to see your breath in the air, and the ropes were both cold and wet. The condition of the rope wasn't much of an issue when you were climbing, only when you were holding the rope while someone else climbed -- then you noticed how quickly your hands got cold and numb. It was also cold enough for my toes to get numb. I'm going to be better prepared this week, even as I write this I am searching online for the right kind of gloves -- though I suspect serious climbers probably laugh at the idea of wearing gloves on a wall.
In many ways, the wall not being entirely indoors was a good thing -- it felt like I was actually doing something, instead of being somewhere hot and loud and probably smelly. The real test will be if I continue climbing on my own after my introduction course has finished, though that may involve trying to convince people I know that they want to take up climbing, too.
It's important to fill non-work time -- days and weeks -- with things we enjoy, it gives us something to look forward to and motivation to get out of bed. It might still be Ah crap when the alarm goes off, but if you then remember there's a great band playing in the evening or whatever then it can get you through. Last year I spent a lot of time going to the gym in the early mornings to get fit for Peru, but that was more of a threat -- if I didn't go to the gym then I would never make it Machu Picchu. It also has to be said; having someone pretty neat like the girl to come home to always helps, as well -- so I'm very lucky there.
That's the thinking, anyway -- but there's a tightrope between this and wishing your days away. Let's see how it works. Until then, though, share with me your thoughts and ideas -- either on the things that you fill in to your days and weeks, or how you manage to not wish away your days while still looking forward to something coming up. Our operators are waiting for your call.
Wednesday, 13 January 2010
The Polysyllabic Spree
There's not much to say with what's happening just lately. Britain is unusually cold and has been blanketed in snow and ice almost constantly since December -- thawing only to deny a white Christmas before coming back. There was a day last week where it reached -20C in some parts of the country. Sure, it's winter, but it's not normally this cold, or for so long. That's about as interesting is that info goes.
Instead, I'm going to write about someone else.
Nick Hornby is the author of one of my favourite books -- High Fidelity -- a novel about music and love and growing up or growing old and how they are sometimes inseperable. I don't know if it ever won any awards, and I doubt it was ever critically acclaimed or even makes anyone's "must read" lists, but I've ranked it in my top 5 for a long time. I also greatly enjoyed About A Boy, although the latter inspired a much worse movie adaptation.
Unfortunately, Hornby's later novels have left me cold. How To Be Good I am fairly sure did win awards, but it did absolutely nothing for me. Long Way Down irritated me more than anything else. But that's just me. I'm not saying Hornby is a bad writer, or that they were bad books, just that they did nothing for me personally.
I might be more inclined towards harsh judgements of his work if I was any kind of a writer myself, but most importantly if his non-fiction wasn't so bloody good.
I don't recall where I heard about 31 Songs, where Hornby predictably enough writes about 31 different songs -- without ever talking about his memories associated with the songs. That, to me, was a stroke of genius -- just writing about the music and the musicians and the history, and in a way that was so engaging and accessible that I immediately wanted to track down every song mentioned and listen to them for myself and see if I could experience the same magic.
More recently I picked up a copy of The Polysyllabic Spree, in which Hornby can't resist making another music reference. The book is a complete collection of the columns he wrote for literary magazine Believer, which in the same simple concept as 31 Songs, he simply writes about what books he has bought and read each month. And just the same, he writes about each book with humour and wit, managing to make each one -- books I've never heard of, and authors I wouldn't have considered -- seem indispensible. Like with 31 Songs where I had to download and play these songs, Spree makes me want to dig out a notebook and record each title, before ordering them from my local library.
You might hate Hornby's fiction, or you might hate fiction entirely -- I know people who look down their noses at the idea of reading something "made up" -- but since these aren't fiction, unless you have an overwhelming grudge against the man's style as a whole, you can't go too far wrong with them.
And in closing, I had my meeting at work I mentioned in my last post, and, yeah, I told them pretty much what was suggested in comments. I didn't jump up and down for joy about the job, I even admitted to not "enjoying" sales, but I kept mostly quiet -- because there wasn't much to say.
Instead, I'm going to write about someone else.
Nick Hornby is the author of one of my favourite books -- High Fidelity -- a novel about music and love and growing up or growing old and how they are sometimes inseperable. I don't know if it ever won any awards, and I doubt it was ever critically acclaimed or even makes anyone's "must read" lists, but I've ranked it in my top 5 for a long time. I also greatly enjoyed About A Boy, although the latter inspired a much worse movie adaptation.Unfortunately, Hornby's later novels have left me cold. How To Be Good I am fairly sure did win awards, but it did absolutely nothing for me. Long Way Down irritated me more than anything else. But that's just me. I'm not saying Hornby is a bad writer, or that they were bad books, just that they did nothing for me personally.
I might be more inclined towards harsh judgements of his work if I was any kind of a writer myself, but most importantly if his non-fiction wasn't so bloody good.
I don't recall where I heard about 31 Songs, where Hornby predictably enough writes about 31 different songs -- without ever talking about his memories associated with the songs. That, to me, was a stroke of genius -- just writing about the music and the musicians and the history, and in a way that was so engaging and accessible that I immediately wanted to track down every song mentioned and listen to them for myself and see if I could experience the same magic.
More recently I picked up a copy of The Polysyllabic Spree, in which Hornby can't resist making another music reference. The book is a complete collection of the columns he wrote for literary magazine Believer, which in the same simple concept as 31 Songs, he simply writes about what books he has bought and read each month. And just the same, he writes about each book with humour and wit, managing to make each one -- books I've never heard of, and authors I wouldn't have considered -- seem indispensible. Like with 31 Songs where I had to download and play these songs, Spree makes me want to dig out a notebook and record each title, before ordering them from my local library.
You might hate Hornby's fiction, or you might hate fiction entirely -- I know people who look down their noses at the idea of reading something "made up" -- but since these aren't fiction, unless you have an overwhelming grudge against the man's style as a whole, you can't go too far wrong with them.
And in closing, I had my meeting at work I mentioned in my last post, and, yeah, I told them pretty much what was suggested in comments. I didn't jump up and down for joy about the job, I even admitted to not "enjoying" sales, but I kept mostly quiet -- because there wasn't much to say.
Friday, 8 January 2010
You blame yourself for wanting more
Having been in my job now for something like 10 weeks, I am now due to have a "meeting" with my line manager. I don't know if this marks my 3-month probation (which technically wouldn't be until February) or if they just feel like now is as good a time as any to talk to me.
My dilemma is what to say. Obviously they want to know How I'm "settling in", discuss any issues I (or she) may have and any additional help I may need.
My progress to date has been followed in almost minute detail in our all-too-frequent meetings, so I'm sure they would have mentioned if there was any concerns on the side of the business there. I'm bitter that due to a mistake using a sum function in Excel I overcalculated my closed business in December. I prematurely claimed to have exceeded my target, before discovering later when I used a calculator to add up the figures that I was instead a good £5k short of it. I don't know if it's possible to ever know honestly what they expect us to achieve or what is acceptable -- logic would have it that they deliberately set our targets out of reach to make us work harder. Being someone for whom nothing is ever good enough, this doesn't do me a whole lot of favours.
I'm also wonder what -- if any -- issues they may want to bring up.
But the main concern for me is how much truth I should give them. How am I settling in? Settled in fine, I get on well with my colleagues and enjoy working with my immediate colleagues, which is a big plus for me. But the job bores the shit out of me, and I don't enjoy it. How's that for an issue? I feel there is nowhere for me to go in it, there is little to no creativity open to me, and few of the things I have enjoyed in previous jobs I've been lucky enough to hold. I have actively been looking for other jobs. Sometimes I resign myself to staying, with the idea that if I can stand it and if the worst it gets is boring then at least it's stable -- other times I say no to settling, say bollocks to the middle, and want more. I blame myself for what I can't ignore, I blame myself for wanting more. There are probably literally thousands of places out there that would benefit from my passion and creativity when I am fully engaged.
That's not exactly the kind of thing you can bring up -- not and expect to escape being fired. On the other hand, if fortune should smile on me and I do find something better in the near future, they might feel betrayed if I lied in the meeting and told them everything was sunshine and kittens when I was really looking around for something else. On the third hand, it's not like if I tell them how I feel and what I want out of life they will magically pull it out of thin air. The truth is I took this job knowing it wasn't what I wanted, but I was in no position to hold out for that magical elusive position and this gave me what I needed -- a job, good earning potential, and prospects, at the expense of creativity or enjoyment.
Most people don't like their jobs. Many people hate their jobs. Some have no job at all. I'm lucky in so many ways. But I still have no idea what I am going to say to them.
My dilemma is what to say. Obviously they want to know How I'm "settling in", discuss any issues I (or she) may have and any additional help I may need.
My progress to date has been followed in almost minute detail in our all-too-frequent meetings, so I'm sure they would have mentioned if there was any concerns on the side of the business there. I'm bitter that due to a mistake using a sum function in Excel I overcalculated my closed business in December. I prematurely claimed to have exceeded my target, before discovering later when I used a calculator to add up the figures that I was instead a good £5k short of it. I don't know if it's possible to ever know honestly what they expect us to achieve or what is acceptable -- logic would have it that they deliberately set our targets out of reach to make us work harder. Being someone for whom nothing is ever good enough, this doesn't do me a whole lot of favours.
I'm also wonder what -- if any -- issues they may want to bring up.
But the main concern for me is how much truth I should give them. How am I settling in? Settled in fine, I get on well with my colleagues and enjoy working with my immediate colleagues, which is a big plus for me. But the job bores the shit out of me, and I don't enjoy it. How's that for an issue? I feel there is nowhere for me to go in it, there is little to no creativity open to me, and few of the things I have enjoyed in previous jobs I've been lucky enough to hold. I have actively been looking for other jobs. Sometimes I resign myself to staying, with the idea that if I can stand it and if the worst it gets is boring then at least it's stable -- other times I say no to settling, say bollocks to the middle, and want more. I blame myself for what I can't ignore, I blame myself for wanting more. There are probably literally thousands of places out there that would benefit from my passion and creativity when I am fully engaged.
That's not exactly the kind of thing you can bring up -- not and expect to escape being fired. On the other hand, if fortune should smile on me and I do find something better in the near future, they might feel betrayed if I lied in the meeting and told them everything was sunshine and kittens when I was really looking around for something else. On the third hand, it's not like if I tell them how I feel and what I want out of life they will magically pull it out of thin air. The truth is I took this job knowing it wasn't what I wanted, but I was in no position to hold out for that magical elusive position and this gave me what I needed -- a job, good earning potential, and prospects, at the expense of creativity or enjoyment.
Most people don't like their jobs. Many people hate their jobs. Some have no job at all. I'm lucky in so many ways. But I still have no idea what I am going to say to them.
Saturday, 2 January 2010
Enough flavour to last all 52 weeks
I don't really do New Year's resolutions, I've decided.
Over the years, I have made lists in January of things that I want to achieve over the coming year ahead, but whether I stick to them seems completely arbitrary -- I don't think the date has any measurable effect. Either I resolve to do things over the year I planned to do anyway, or pick a bunch of things I think I should do or would like to do, and maybe I do them and maybe I don't.
There's things I want to do this year. I want to move into London. I want to learn to rock climb so that I can do it without supervision. I want to finally learn to snowboard properly. I want to get into shape (a shape that isn't round). But none of those things depend on being new year resolutions -- I will achieve them because I want to, screw January 1st.
Don't get me wrong, I enjoy New Year's eve -- I know a lot of people hate the pressure to have a good time, but I think these people can put the pressure on themselves. I saw in 2010 at a small fancy dress party with friends and had a lot of fun, but in previous years I've had a good time doing nothing more exciting than go to the cinema, play pool, or stay in and watch TV.
2009 was a rough year in many ways. I lost my job to redundancy, and the girl spent several months in exile in Western Australia waiting for the paperwork for a new work visa for her company -- money was tight and the distance put a strain on our relationship. In the end, we made the tough decision to give up our house.
But 2009 was also a year of adventure for me. In May, I travelled to South America with a group of about 30 other people to trek the Inca Trail in Peru, raising money for Macmillan Cancer Support. Through rough terrain at high altitude and on bruised and blistered feet, I made it to Machu Picchu. The trek also wasn't helped by injuries I sustained falling down the stairs at home. But Peru was an amazing, vibrant country -- and the girl's welcome at Heathrow airport when I got back stands out as a high point of any year, not just 2009.
Not content with travelling to the Southern Hemisphere just once in a year, in August I flew out to Perth to join the girl in Australia for a few weeks. Together we visited friends and family (her family, not mine -- though we tried to see some of mine while we were there) and saw the sights of Perth along with the south coast of Western Australia, Melbourne and the Yarra Valley. We took boat tours to spot whales, ate fish and chips in Fremantle, dodged rain showers, went off road driving and admired the unique Australian wildlife and scenery.
The redundancy, too, had a silver lining when I got a new job in London -- getting a new job at all in this financial climate was an achievement, so getting one that will enable the girl and I move to a new flat in London in the next few months is even better.
2009 also saw new friends made -- the girl and I travelled to Oxford one rainy Sunday to meet Tully, a lovely Aussie blogger who was visiting these fair isles on business. We met Tully again a few months later for brunch in Melbourne, where the magnificent Miss Milo put us up (and put up with us) for several days and played the perfect hostess. If you don't know these two, take the opportunity to check out their own personal journeys. Australia also gave us the chance to connect with friends we hadn't seen since they were in London. Sometimes the world can seem so small to make and keep friends from all over the world, and at the same time insurmountably large when these people are also so far away.
I want 2010 to be a continued year of adventure, and I want to work more on becoming the person I want to be -- and I know that is an internal journey I have to make, an adventure of the spirit perhaps, something I won't find on a rock pile in the clouds of a South American mountain or in a monthly payslip.
Over the years, I have made lists in January of things that I want to achieve over the coming year ahead, but whether I stick to them seems completely arbitrary -- I don't think the date has any measurable effect. Either I resolve to do things over the year I planned to do anyway, or pick a bunch of things I think I should do or would like to do, and maybe I do them and maybe I don't.
There's things I want to do this year. I want to move into London. I want to learn to rock climb so that I can do it without supervision. I want to finally learn to snowboard properly. I want to get into shape (a shape that isn't round). But none of those things depend on being new year resolutions -- I will achieve them because I want to, screw January 1st.
Don't get me wrong, I enjoy New Year's eve -- I know a lot of people hate the pressure to have a good time, but I think these people can put the pressure on themselves. I saw in 2010 at a small fancy dress party with friends and had a lot of fun, but in previous years I've had a good time doing nothing more exciting than go to the cinema, play pool, or stay in and watch TV.
2009 was a rough year in many ways. I lost my job to redundancy, and the girl spent several months in exile in Western Australia waiting for the paperwork for a new work visa for her company -- money was tight and the distance put a strain on our relationship. In the end, we made the tough decision to give up our house.
But 2009 was also a year of adventure for me. In May, I travelled to South America with a group of about 30 other people to trek the Inca Trail in Peru, raising money for Macmillan Cancer Support. Through rough terrain at high altitude and on bruised and blistered feet, I made it to Machu Picchu. The trek also wasn't helped by injuries I sustained falling down the stairs at home. But Peru was an amazing, vibrant country -- and the girl's welcome at Heathrow airport when I got back stands out as a high point of any year, not just 2009.
Not content with travelling to the Southern Hemisphere just once in a year, in August I flew out to Perth to join the girl in Australia for a few weeks. Together we visited friends and family (her family, not mine -- though we tried to see some of mine while we were there) and saw the sights of Perth along with the south coast of Western Australia, Melbourne and the Yarra Valley. We took boat tours to spot whales, ate fish and chips in Fremantle, dodged rain showers, went off road driving and admired the unique Australian wildlife and scenery.
The redundancy, too, had a silver lining when I got a new job in London -- getting a new job at all in this financial climate was an achievement, so getting one that will enable the girl and I move to a new flat in London in the next few months is even better.
2009 also saw new friends made -- the girl and I travelled to Oxford one rainy Sunday to meet Tully, a lovely Aussie blogger who was visiting these fair isles on business. We met Tully again a few months later for brunch in Melbourne, where the magnificent Miss Milo put us up (and put up with us) for several days and played the perfect hostess. If you don't know these two, take the opportunity to check out their own personal journeys. Australia also gave us the chance to connect with friends we hadn't seen since they were in London. Sometimes the world can seem so small to make and keep friends from all over the world, and at the same time insurmountably large when these people are also so far away.
I want 2010 to be a continued year of adventure, and I want to work more on becoming the person I want to be -- and I know that is an internal journey I have to make, an adventure of the spirit perhaps, something I won't find on a rock pile in the clouds of a South American mountain or in a monthly payslip.
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