Thursday 27 September 2012

DROOPY EARS AND THE HUNTSMAN

I love this story. Or more to the point, I love the alternative version or subtext of this story that my writer’s brain lends to it. (Makes things a lot more interesting when you can view it from several angles, I assure you). A French hunter recently had to have his hand amputated because his dog shot it off. Yes, you read that right. The trusty best friend, the pooch he has deemed ‘adorable,’ was apparently going in for a ‘cuddle’ right as the man was in mid hunt causing him to pull the trigger and blow his own hand off. Ah the irony is so thick on this one. Okay, fine, the dog didn't actually pull the trigger, but in my version the police would definitely be pulling him in for questioning and a box of donuts.

The huntsman in question has three Blue Gascony Basset Hounds, and was out hunting with three of them when the youngest – clearly the most tactile of the three – stayed behind while the other two ran ahead chasing a deer. This is when this infamous cuddle took place. Despite the serious injury, the man insists the dog is 'adorable' and still his best friend, and claims it was all his fault for not having the gun on safety. The man was hunting with the intent to kill animals, I think not having the gun on safety was the least of his offences.

Okay, so here is what I took from the story (or how I read it anyway)…this adorable dog was most likely not going in for a cuddle. This dog was either a) sick to death of freezing his balls off in the forest while he was made to watch his owner kill defenseless animals and decided to take action once and for all. The other two hounds acted as a diversion and took off to ‘chase deer.’ When in fact, I’m sure they were warning the deer that some serious sh*t was about to go down and they better run for cover. Then, the ‘adorable’ ring leader (it’s always the young cute ones in the bunch you have to be suspicious of) decided to take action and strategically ‘cuddle’ his master just as he was about to get a shot off. Or b) hungry and smelled a peanut butter sandwich in the man's pocket....God I love Basset Hounds. I had one long ago and she used to insist on sleeping with me, bathing with me (I really had no choice, she would just dive in the bathtub), sitting on my lap when I drove. She and I were always working on our boundary issues.

One also has to appreciate the irony (unless you’re an avid hunter and then, well, that’s another lengthy discussion we can have at another time) when a hunter gets any sort of limb or appendage blown off when he is intending to do just that to Bambi (all deer to me are Bambi. It’s just the way it is). Not to mention, he’s dragging other animals along with him and making them complicit on his death march. This is also what I love about dogs, no matter where you are, or what you’re doing, they’re going to get all up in your face and show you some love. 'Hunt? What hunt, I need attention and you’re going to give me some god damn it. Oh, and sorry about the hand moron.'

Wednesday 26 September 2012

YOU BETTER WORK

I am currently looking for a job. I rank searching for employment up there with looking for flats (houses etc.), moving, taxes and airline travel. That is a not a good list I assure you. It’s not just that I find it utterly demeaning to write down your life’s worth and experience (or supposed worth) on one piece of paper to be judged by some under qualified individual whose job you could probably do in your sleep; but it is also the fact that you are judged by this piece of paper like its tantamount to all else. In today’s economy especially; unless your CV can dance and sing show-tunes, appear in hologram and proclaim that you are the Excel wizard of the universe, not to mention that you possess every skill known to man whilst being a graduate of Oxford, you may as well start perfecting your barista skills. "Do you want a muffin with that?"

[Yes I’ve been looking for a while and I’m achingly jaded].

You see, the job search can not only drive you mad – I suppose I’m evidence of this - but it can make one ponder all their life decisions in one fell swoop. In my case, why oh why didn’t I become a doctor (oh that’s right, I go weak at the sight of blood and can barely handle CSI), or a lawyer (I rather be a coal miner) or pay more attention when declaring my major – as my father liked to always point out, I speak English, why the hell did I need to learn to study it. Anything, apparently, but the path I chose. You then find yourself pondering jobs you couldn't be more wrong for simply to prove to yourself that you are not only employable but your choices were sound ones. 'Data Systems Analyst...sure, I love data. Botanist...I dig plants, who doesn't love a good fern....German speaking freelance motions graphics designer? Guten tag! Where do I sign up.'

The problem is, unless you go down the traditional route from the get go, your CV and your life experience becomes a patchwork quilt that is often a tough sell to those linear thinkers out there. Where I think my CV smacks of life experience, variation and graft, others may look at things differently. In my case, the fact that I took many years out – after going the traditional route of being a diligent, trusty office minion - to follow my ‘creative dream’ (Lord, why oh why did I think this was a good idea) is for some a big no-no. How dare you leave the rat race for something you 'want' to do. What is wrong with you, you amateur!

Yes, us creatives just can’t help ourselves despite the advice from all those people out there who tell us to have a back up plan (King, I don’t care if you are the next Picasso, you WILL have a back up plan). These people are usually doctors or lawyers. You see, if you’ve been spending your years trying to get ahead in an intangible business like screenwriting (intangible because you’re not in an office; you rarely get rewarded for the toil; and it’s far from traditional), making the segue from the writing world into the more traditional linear world of ‘office’ work is not always easy [cause let's be honest, the internet killed print media. Throw a rock and you'll hit an unemployed writer]. In fact, you find yourself having to prove to people that you have not been simply sitting in your parent’s garage drinking Red Bull slurpees at 3am talking about penning the 'Bladerunner' for this generation. As much as I can put on paper that my years as a screenwriter taught me more about determination, hard work (patience, oooooh patience), negotiation and thinking outside the box than any job I could’ve had behind a desk, if you haven't punched a clock every day, the employers of the world are going to have serious reservations about you holding down a proper job.

Recently I went up for a job where the application process was one of those maddening three stage, jump through the hoops type thing. And just to properly exert their power, they left everything to the last minute to make sure you knew who was boss and what would be expected of you if you were lucky enough to land the job. I made it through hoop two and then was told that although they loved my application submissions (to long and boring to go into, but you had to write several things to even be considered) I wasn’t right for the job. This was of course without even interviewing me so that I could explain how right for the job I really was.

So for now, the search continues and I try in vain to either quash the creative side of me and become a bookkeeper (I’m admittedly so crap with numbers if I am the one doing your books, you’re for sure getting audited), or join the very very long queue of ex writers that are trying to put their ‘creative’ skills to some sort of use - like writing traffic tickets...or blurbs on the back of cereal boxes - and prove their years spent toiling away on their laptop were not in vain.

King. I will not of course tell you what to do with your life, but if you come and tell me you want to write the next great American novel, I will chuck your laptop out the window and enroll you in medical school in a New York minute. Trust me, you’ll thank me for it later.

Tuesday 25 September 2012

10 THINGS

[ONE FROM THE ARCHIVE TODAY. NEW BLOG TOMORROW. I PROMISE!]

I saw an article on CNN that said, “15 Things Not to Say to Someone who has RA” (Rheumatoid Arthritis). For those of you pining to know, “oh, my grandmother has it,” is at the top of the list. Apparently for those in their thirties who have it, this is very tiresome to hear. This article caught my eye of course because I love lists. I especially love lists that explain what not to say on certain subjects as there are so many tactless individuals out there that are in desperate need of some guidance. In fact, I think there should be a lot more lists out there to guide those failing in the verbal editing department, but that’s me.

So of course, as you knew I would, I thought of a few lists that I thought should be put out there for contention. Numero Uno – 10 things Not to Say To A Mother (seemed apropos to my life):

1 1. Why are you so tired? – Seriously, this is up there with you look fat. Don’t ask why we look tired. The reasons are lengthy and profound. Just nod, say we look beautiful and walk the other way.

2. What do you do all day? – Again, we do plenty; more than plenty. We certainly do not want to justify it, explain it, or relive it.

3. You really should control/quiet your child? – This one needs no explanation aside from mind your own business.

4. It’s so unfair to have just one child. (See above)

5. Isn’t that funny, my child has always slept SO well. (Seriously, keep this to yourself).

6. (Furthermore) You look good for someone with a child. (And you look good for someone with your foot in your mouth)

7. Your child is huge. (And so is your mouth. Pipe down)

8. I knew a “name of your child” in school. He was such an a**hole.

9. I thought labor was a breeze, what about you. (Oh button it, no one likes a show off)

10. I can’t believe you’re traveling with a child, that is so unfair to the rest of us. (Don’t get me started)

Let’s see, another list for you men out there that you may want to reference from time to time that will keep you out of trouble: 10 Things Not to Say to Your Girlfriend:

1. Are you really going to wear that? (Well, I wasn’t sure before, but now, definitely)

2. You look really tired (this one works for anyone really. Just take it OUT of your everyday conversation. Period)

3. Those pants/dress/shirt/tank-top/jumpsuit makes your ass look fat. (I repeat, nothing on us looks fat, never, ever ever)

4. You’re getting your period, aren’t you?

5. Sorry babe, but I forgot your birthday.

6. Let’s just stay in, order a curry and watch Tottenham play Man U (really, you can put any two teams in there and it will work)

7. We’re moving in with my mother.

8. I think time moves so much quicker at your age (yes, my partner actually said this to me, god bless him

9. Oh, sorry, I forgot (seriously, you have to do better than this blanket excuse).

10. She’s hot. (Word to the wise, unless the woman you’re pointing out to us is on fire, it’s better left unsaid).

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