Changed da house,
Changed da look.
BTW, my bathrobe's usually pink
and we don't have a fireplace.
Other than that,
it's pretty accurate...
Psst...click the words above to navigate.
Best viewed, unfortunately, in Internet Explorer.
Monday, May 30, 2005
~ The Will I Lacked ~
How's this for cool: I got to meet this married couple visiting from the States over the weekend in church, and found out that Jerry had come to know about God and be baptised because his wife Jeanette had basically said, "If you want to date me, you've got to have a half hour bible study with me each week."
He had resisted like anything at first, but she stood her ground and when he eventually decided he really liked her that much, he came back and the first thing she said when she saw him was, "Are you ready for a bible study?"
HOW COOL IS THAT?!!!
It really got me thinking about my dating history. Don't get me wrong - I am flat-out thankful that I got to know Tony when he owns his own faith; I love that we believe in one faith, one God, one baptism, I love that he's more mature than I am in aspects of his faith, that he is older than me and more self-controlled spiritually, and I see now that God has a great sense of humour and wonderful insight into what I want and need in a man.
But if I had been gutsier in outlining where my priorities were with the guys I dated; if I had done a Jeanette and stipulated a half-hour bible study as part of the deal in going out with me; if I had been more secure about my self-worth, less afraid of losing guys than God, more interested in looking for a spiritual partner... then I would have gotten off my backside and done a whole lot more than just demand that guys turned up on Sunday morning at church with me. Or maybe I hadn't cared enough. I wonder.
I've always been satisfied that every single guy I've dated - whether having denominational leanings or almost no interest in God - had turned up in church at least once. But the truth is I hardly studied with any of them; attempts had been rather half-hearted and easily turned down. I was always afraid of rocking the boat, turning them off the gospel altogether, being too pushy, but the truth was I hardly ever pushed anything.
Jeanette's determination and audacity really made a difference; the couple now minister to churches around the world on conflict-management and amalgamating of churches. They've been married 43 years. I think it's just awesome.
He had resisted like anything at first, but she stood her ground and when he eventually decided he really liked her that much, he came back and the first thing she said when she saw him was, "Are you ready for a bible study?"
HOW COOL IS THAT?!!!
It really got me thinking about my dating history. Don't get me wrong - I am flat-out thankful that I got to know Tony when he owns his own faith; I love that we believe in one faith, one God, one baptism, I love that he's more mature than I am in aspects of his faith, that he is older than me and more self-controlled spiritually, and I see now that God has a great sense of humour and wonderful insight into what I want and need in a man.
But if I had been gutsier in outlining where my priorities were with the guys I dated; if I had done a Jeanette and stipulated a half-hour bible study as part of the deal in going out with me; if I had been more secure about my self-worth, less afraid of losing guys than God, more interested in looking for a spiritual partner... then I would have gotten off my backside and done a whole lot more than just demand that guys turned up on Sunday morning at church with me. Or maybe I hadn't cared enough. I wonder.
I've always been satisfied that every single guy I've dated - whether having denominational leanings or almost no interest in God - had turned up in church at least once. But the truth is I hardly studied with any of them; attempts had been rather half-hearted and easily turned down. I was always afraid of rocking the boat, turning them off the gospel altogether, being too pushy, but the truth was I hardly ever pushed anything.
Jeanette's determination and audacity really made a difference; the couple now minister to churches around the world on conflict-management and amalgamating of churches. They've been married 43 years. I think it's just awesome.
Thursday, May 26, 2005
~ Snapshot ~
Not much time to blog right now, but just thought I'd fill the space with a snapshot of The Life of Mrs Velle.
Lots happened, apart from getting rejected for 2 hot jobs in quick succession; I got the rejection letters this week, and shredded one with relish this morning. The feed-me-20-pages-at-one-go-come-on shredder at work makes this really satisfying whirr-grind noise as paper goes through it, and I thought there wasn't a more fitting end to that sad 2-line letter of regret.
Without divulging too much about my client, part of what I have to do is set up an online bookstore as both a reseller and a publisher. I am practically doing this alone, although I do get by with a little help from my newfound friends at the workplace. What I've also begun to realise is that there is only so much one can do with Excel as far as database management goes. As of yesterday, I've been creating a comprehensive bookshop database from scratch, replete with purchase order details, history of purchases made by whom, when and how, and all sorts of stuff that frankly make me shudder. There is just so much work to do! I feel like I've gone in over my head with this one well and truly, but I'm telling ya... if I get this done right, if this baby actually works and I manage to create this seeminly massive and rather complex system from scratch - and write codes and macros along the way - I'm gonna feel SO good!
And if I don't, at least I had a real dabble with Microsoft Access. Hurrah for me.
Lots happened, apart from getting rejected for 2 hot jobs in quick succession; I got the rejection letters this week, and shredded one with relish this morning. The feed-me-20-pages-at-one-go-come-on shredder at work makes this really satisfying whirr-grind noise as paper goes through it, and I thought there wasn't a more fitting end to that sad 2-line letter of regret.
Without divulging too much about my client, part of what I have to do is set up an online bookstore as both a reseller and a publisher. I am practically doing this alone, although I do get by with a little help from my newfound friends at the workplace. What I've also begun to realise is that there is only so much one can do with Excel as far as database management goes. As of yesterday, I've been creating a comprehensive bookshop database from scratch, replete with purchase order details, history of purchases made by whom, when and how, and all sorts of stuff that frankly make me shudder. There is just so much work to do! I feel like I've gone in over my head with this one well and truly, but I'm telling ya... if I get this done right, if this baby actually works and I manage to create this seeminly massive and rather complex system from scratch - and write codes and macros along the way - I'm gonna feel SO good!
And if I don't, at least I had a real dabble with Microsoft Access. Hurrah for me.
Friday, May 20, 2005
~ Down ~
Just found out I didn't get interviews for 2 jobs I really liked and wanted.
Doesn't help that these were the applications I worked the hardest on.
I would've liked to have been considered, at least for the first interview. Just to be within sniffing distance of the jobs. Just to know that the gruelling hours I've put in after I come home knackered, cold and hungry have at least been well spent and acknowledged.
I hate Selection Criterias. Because they make me invest so much of myself just so I can get slapped in the face by The Tuna of Rejection. It huuuurts, it actually really huuuurts...
Doesn't help that these were the applications I worked the hardest on.
I would've liked to have been considered, at least for the first interview. Just to be within sniffing distance of the jobs. Just to know that the gruelling hours I've put in after I come home knackered, cold and hungry have at least been well spent and acknowledged.
I hate Selection Criterias. Because they make me invest so much of myself just so I can get slapped in the face by The Tuna of Rejection. It huuuurts, it actually really huuuurts...
Thursday, May 19, 2005
~ What's in a Name ~
Ever since God named Adam, and then gave him charge to name every living creature - including his wife Eve - mankind has been impressed with the intrinsic link between the identity and the name.
I've grown up bearing a first name that is pretty special. I have to admit that I am rather jealous of its uniqueness, and I was terribly upset when my friend's mother called to tell me that she had mentioned my name to her friend who was having a baby - and the friend immediately decided to brand her baby girl with MY name. (Granted, General Motors came up with that one first, but STILL?!) I think I actually cried over that one - that was how upset I was. I felt robbed of my personality and identity, unreasonable as that sounds. It was wrong of me, but I was angry with the unoriginal friend of my friend's mother because taking my name had somehow diminished my uniqueness. And how DARE she make me less special.
Same feelings came up when an Ah-Lian shop was so enamoured with my name after an old boyfriend had engraved it on a bracelet, that they engraved it on another bracelet and displayed that on their shopfront. I was secretly glad when I heard they closed down.
The funny thing about names? It doesn't matter how many gorgeous people you've met who've borne a particular name, like Suzy for example. Once you've met an Awful Suzy, you tend to regard that name with some measure of Yuck. (Disclaimer: I personally know no one named Suzy.)
When Tony and I chance upon a name we deem quite dodgy, we'll rule it out as a name to inflict on any poor future kids we might have. We've built quite a list as a result; a what-NOT-to-name-our-kid list. This includes all the names of our old flames; our friend's old flames; our relatives not yet deceased; our friends; our friend's children; Shakespeare characters like Lysander and Romeo; Hollywood Celebrity children with names like Tallulah and Apple; memorable television characters like The Fonz; Canberra suburbs like Bruce, Gordon and Kaleen; work colleagues, schoolmates and general acquaintances that cause(d) us grief, pain and suffering; and names that just wouldn't go with our surname. Like Herbert.
This gets all the more complicated as I realise how much I want a unique name for my future offspring. I honestly love having a special name and I suspect it's actually a pride thing which means it's BAD, but I still would prefer a more unique name to a more common one. Tony, however, isn't saddled with such baggage and would be quite happy naming our daughter Jane if he actually liked the name.
But yes, this has been a good measure of how quickly I transfer the character of any person to his or her name. Case in point: I don't think I'd name my daughter Gail, not because I think my bridesmaid's a meanie or that the name generally blows... but I see naming my kid after her as some weird cloning exercise. Gail will always be Gail as I've always known her. I'd like to keep her unique in my heart.
Likewise, all my run-ins with most females whose names actually start with the letter V have been reeking with bad juju. The only other V names I haven't met are Valentine, Viola/Violet, and Vana. (I know a Vera. Vera is very nice. Victoria, Vanessa and Velma are normal people. The rest make me break out in cold sweat and want to make for the hills.)
So yes... if I want to keep a tally of how many people I ought to agape better, all I have to do is run through this list. Brilliant system, isn't it.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
~ Tony Turns 30 ~
We managed to celebrate Tony's birthday this past weekend; an interesting occurence since Tony really doesn't like making a fuss of his birthday EVER, but this year marks his 30th. The trick, my friend, was not to let him get away with a non-event for once, and yet celebrate it in such a way that he didn't mind the attention TOO much and it didn't embarrass him.
I also had to make it a surprise, because as soon as I were to tell him that a bunch of us want to herald his 30th year with him, he'd try to wheedle out of it for sure.
While I'd be quite comfortable if the congregation sang a birthday song and did a few Hip-Hip-Hurrahs (the norm, after Sunday morning announcements), doing that to Tony was tantamount to making him walk to work in his underwear. It's very ironic that he would marry someone like me who would blog about this, but I try to be sensitive.
What I did instead was to mention in passing that Aileen had invited us to her place for lunch on Sunday, and to make it up to him, we'd celebrate his birthday quietly on Saturday. Even THAT had its little drama because he was initially hesitant about wasting a productive Saturday afternoon on a birthday lunch in a chi-chi restaurant. It wasn't until I faked annoyance that he eventually complied.
Saturday lunch turned out intimate and delicious. We had lunch at The Green Herring - a truly gourmet cottage experience. I don't quite know how to explain it, but the blue eye cod I had melted in my mouth along with the lemon butter, and his beef pie thingy was tender, succulent, and absolutely satisfying. We spent the rest of the Saturday afternoon NOT doing housework and working on assignments and freelance jobs, but just snuggling under the covers and watching 5 hours of West Wing reruns on his work laptop.
Sunday morning, he looked worriedly at the church newsletter to make sure his birthday wasn't on it, winced towards the end of the announcements as he anticipated the birthday song, and when neither happened, beamed.
The afternoon fellowship after bible class was uneventful; a handful wished him a Happy Birthday quietly and moved along to other topics. We had split into classes according to gender, so while he was blissfully unaware in one room, I was tying up loose ends in the other.
It was only until he drove up to Aileen's place and noticed the Chapman's car parked in front, that the side of his mouth twitched as he said, "I think I've just been set up."
And as soon as he walked in, the Chapmans, Kirkpatricks, Randalls, Audrey and Aileen started singing Happy Birthday as boisterously as possible. I think that was the most fun part.
The lunch was simple and quick, filled with weird anecdotes about prosthetic legs, the definition of Thongs in different countries, and health check ups for primary school students in Singapore. He was presented with 3 cakes - one chocolate cherry ripe mudcake, one sponge cake with icing and rainbow sprinkles, and one upside down tupperware covered with 30 stuck-on Mars Bars.
He admitted very grudgingly later that he had actually enjoyed himself. Surprise, surprise...
And that, my friend, is how you bully your introverted husband into celebrating Life. He'll learn to appreciate it eventually.
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
~ A Good Day at the Grind ~
My life is SO NORMAL now, I've resorted to blogging about work.
Grab a cat and prepare to hurl it into the air, ladeez and gentlemen... I had a better than okay day at the office today. I clinched not one, not TWO, but THREE radio interviews for my boss and he consequently did a cheerleader wiggle in his seat and the whole clench-fists-and-turn-an-imaginary-grind routine.
You have to understand that this was done despite a lot of pet peeves.
One, I cannot STAND telemarketing. Tried it, didn't suck at it, but don't ever want to do it again in a hurry. This goes for giving a sales pitch of ANY kind - and especially when this involved begging the media.
Two, I have zilch idea about the radio stations in Melbourne. I don't know which stations deal with what kind of demographic, where Geelong ACTUALLY is (even though people have tried to draw me a bad map), and up till last year, had no real idea of the difference between talkback radio and the FM stations. I am a moron. So yes, calling up all radio stations - including every single community radio station that caters to perhaps 300,000 people in Dandenong or something - and trying to clinch a radio interview Australia-style, was terribly daunting.
Three, negotiating Australia-style has always been foreign to me. Have we talked about this before? I think Australians are too friendly. Ironically, I've heard the same sentiment said of the Americans by Australians. But yes... all this calling up, saying hello and then ASKING HOW THEIR DAY WAS... foreign concept in Singapore, especially when it's cold calls. Singaporeans are more transactional in their phone conversations. We get the connection ("Hello?"), we ask for the person in questions ("Ah Seng, ah?") and then we launch straight into the topic ("You got sell camera here or not?"). We get a little more formal with people we don't know, but other than that... it's the same pattern. We don't ask how their day was, unless we love them.
But here, no~o... I've got to work it in the conversation. Better yet, the name of my client isn't the shortest in the Guinness records either. So yes, here's what a typical cold call sounded like the whole of today:
Then comes the following types of responses:
Type 1 - Smooth Operator
Type 2 - Honest and Hesitant
Type 3 - Strong and Silent
After the nth time, I think I've gotten the hi-how's-your-day part down pat. I have mustered the art of faking sincere friendliness.
You see, very much like the How-Do-You-Do that we were taught in primary school only to never apply them in a Singapore context, the Hi-How's-Your-Day doesn't require a REAL answer. You say Fine-Thank-You-And-Yours? back. And act very surprised when they actually tell you how their lunch was terrible.
The problem is, I've been trained to only ask people how their day was, if I really wanted to hear what they had to say. Likewise, if anyone were to ask how my day's been, I'd tell them on a scale of 1 to 10 - and then elaborate.
So yes, you see? The real triumph isn't just clinching 3 interviews... it's also the assimilation into a strange, fake-greeting culture that, up till today, had always eluded me.
So... How's Your Day Been? Fine, thanks!
Grab a cat and prepare to hurl it into the air, ladeez and gentlemen... I had a better than okay day at the office today. I clinched not one, not TWO, but THREE radio interviews for my boss and he consequently did a cheerleader wiggle in his seat and the whole clench-fists-and-turn-an-imaginary-grind routine.
You have to understand that this was done despite a lot of pet peeves.
One, I cannot STAND telemarketing. Tried it, didn't suck at it, but don't ever want to do it again in a hurry. This goes for giving a sales pitch of ANY kind - and especially when this involved begging the media.
Two, I have zilch idea about the radio stations in Melbourne. I don't know which stations deal with what kind of demographic, where Geelong ACTUALLY is (even though people have tried to draw me a bad map), and up till last year, had no real idea of the difference between talkback radio and the FM stations. I am a moron. So yes, calling up all radio stations - including every single community radio station that caters to perhaps 300,000 people in Dandenong or something - and trying to clinch a radio interview Australia-style, was terribly daunting.
Three, negotiating Australia-style has always been foreign to me. Have we talked about this before? I think Australians are too friendly. Ironically, I've heard the same sentiment said of the Americans by Australians. But yes... all this calling up, saying hello and then ASKING HOW THEIR DAY WAS... foreign concept in Singapore, especially when it's cold calls. Singaporeans are more transactional in their phone conversations. We get the connection ("Hello?"), we ask for the person in questions ("Ah Seng, ah?") and then we launch straight into the topic ("You got sell camera here or not?"). We get a little more formal with people we don't know, but other than that... it's the same pattern. We don't ask how their day was, unless we love them.
But here, no~o... I've got to work it in the conversation. Better yet, the name of my client isn't the shortest in the Guinness records either. So yes, here's what a typical cold call sounded like the whole of today:
Radio guy: 3-blah-blah-blah-F-M, this is Graeme speaking, how can I help you?
Me: Hi, Graeme? My name is Velle and I'm calling from the [INSERT 18 SYLLABLES HERE]. How's your day been so far?
Then comes the following types of responses:
Type 1 - Smooth Operator
Radio Guy: Oh, my day's been alright. What about you?
Me: Yes, it's been good too... for a Monday/Tuesday/Wednesday morning/afternoon/evening
Radio Guy: (laughs along)
Type 2 - Honest and Hesitant
Radio Guy: Uh... could you say that again?
Me: Oh, I'm calling from the [INSERT 18 SYLLABLES HERE, STUMBLE TWICE, ENDS UP BEING 28 SYLLABLES]
Radio Guy: Oh... uh, what do you do?
Type 3 - Strong and Silent
Radio Guy: Good.
Me: (Hears the crickets before filling in the silence with...) That's good to know. I faxed over a media release at around 4 yesterday afternoon... did your radio station receive it?
Radio Guy: No idea. The fax machine isn't with me.
Me: (Waits for elaboration. Nothing happens. Definitely not a radio personality.)
You see, very much like the How-Do-You-Do that we were taught in primary school only to never apply them in a Singapore context, the Hi-How's-Your-Day doesn't require a REAL answer. You say Fine-Thank-You-And-Yours? back. And act very surprised when they actually tell you how their lunch was terrible.
The problem is, I've been trained to only ask people how their day was, if I really wanted to hear what they had to say. Likewise, if anyone were to ask how my day's been, I'd tell them on a scale of 1 to 10 - and then elaborate.
So yes, you see? The real triumph isn't just clinching 3 interviews... it's also the assimilation into a strange, fake-greeting culture that, up till today, had always eluded me.
So... How's Your Day Been? Fine, thanks!
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
~ Roosters, Racers, and other drivel ~
I think my body is protesting the ruthlessly quick passing of the weekend. When my phone alarm - which sounds like a hyperventilative rooster, don't ask - went off this morning, I distinctly had this conversation in my head:
"That's because you run around dressed like Aboriginals."
Point taken. I really need warmer clothes. All this work clothes I used to wear in Singapore ain't doing much for me in this weather. For the most part of this morning in the office, I was hunched over my computer still clad in my corduroy jacket. My spree on Saturday meant I got myself a wonderfully bright cardigan... but getting work clothes that didn't reek of bad Australian fashion was a lot more difficult to find - and a lot less affordable.
And it's only Autumn!
I watched the Spanish Grand Prix last night. Tony taped it on Sunday so after dinner and before Desperate Housewives, I snuggled under what is now the TV dooner, and watched 14 cars make 66 laps around the track. Tony was rooting for Mark Webber. (He's from Queanbeyan. That makes him, like, a local International celebrity) and I was keeping my eye on Schumacher. I dozed off very quickly after Schumacher's front tyre punctured the second time. Must have been from disgust with the Ferrari team.
I know I'm rambling about nothing much and I really feel like this is a pile of drivel... but until I've been inspired to actually blog beautifully, you might just have to be patient and motivated to pray very hard that I find a nice job that doesn't take me 2 hours a day to get there and back, and numbs my brains out meanwhile.
Me: What? It's ringing already?I think part of the problem lies in so much energy being used to keep myself warm. It's getting cold again in Canberra. There are nights that leave my teeth chattering in my head. Tony recounts what his PhD supervisor - a Russian who'd lived just south of Moscow - had commented as soon as someone had complained to him about how cold it is in Canberra.
Me: You must have set it last night by accident.
Me: Turn it off! Turn it off! The light in the room... it's Saturday, lah! Go back to sleep!
Brain to hand: Kill the alarm before Tony wakes, quick.
(Silence.)
"That's because you run around dressed like Aboriginals."
Point taken. I really need warmer clothes. All this work clothes I used to wear in Singapore ain't doing much for me in this weather. For the most part of this morning in the office, I was hunched over my computer still clad in my corduroy jacket. My spree on Saturday meant I got myself a wonderfully bright cardigan... but getting work clothes that didn't reek of bad Australian fashion was a lot more difficult to find - and a lot less affordable.
And it's only Autumn!
I watched the Spanish Grand Prix last night. Tony taped it on Sunday so after dinner and before Desperate Housewives, I snuggled under what is now the TV dooner, and watched 14 cars make 66 laps around the track. Tony was rooting for Mark Webber. (He's from Queanbeyan. That makes him, like, a local International celebrity) and I was keeping my eye on Schumacher. I dozed off very quickly after Schumacher's front tyre punctured the second time. Must have been from disgust with the Ferrari team.
I know I'm rambling about nothing much and I really feel like this is a pile of drivel... but until I've been inspired to actually blog beautifully, you might just have to be patient and motivated to pray very hard that I find a nice job that doesn't take me 2 hours a day to get there and back, and numbs my brains out meanwhile.
Saturday, May 07, 2005
~ Splendid Day ~
So I'm all happy and sunny and wearing baby pink again because I just had a SPLENDID DAY.
Splendid Day means not doing anything much of consequence. Splendid Day included reclaiming some of my old lifestyle habits back... like taking care of my hair and expanding my wardrobe. Splendid Day also meant not putting away the groceries because Beloved Husband whom I Adore and am Totally Sorry I Made His Week Awful Because I Had An Awful Week had lovingly gone home with everything after the grocery shopping, so as to leave me alone in a beeg beeg mall to have my Splendid Day.
I rewarded both of us with a big pot of chicken curry this evening. Splendid Day stipulates that all baby potatoes in home made curries shall turn out beautifully soft yet firm. Splendid Day also ensured just the right level of burn in the curry, and that none should splash on white shirt or baby pink jumper. Splendid Day left just enough curry to feed us both for another meal, so I won't need to think about cooking for either tomorrow or Monday afternoon.
It's been SUCH a needed reprieve. I'm not really sure what it was about this past week that made me shrivel up into a ball in the middle of it all and just weep. I'm sure it's accumulative somehow, coupled with an overall lower self-esteem because of the sad estate of my job hunt. I've said this before (although that was really more of a rant): serious job hunting is immensely draining, particularly when you always want to get it just right. I submitted two resumes this week, and while it was brilliant that I was called 10 hours later for a job interview, just the process of investing the time, energy, and emotion in each application ON TOP of a normal work week and a freelance job (and housework, and cooking...) left me almost bereft of the will to wear baby pink tops.
BTW, if you're a Singaporean, the bigger Australian companies tend to want a statement addressing their Selection Criteria. This, by far, is the biggest pain in the butt I've ever come across, with unwritten rules and codes on the 'right words', and the 'right technique of answering' and all that jazz. I've filled out 3 so far, and I don't get better at it each time. It's hard, hard work and easily demands a 1,000 word 'essay' on the absolute nothing you've achieved.
I had an interview with the airport yesterday. Yes, this was the interview that was offered 10 hours after I submitted my resume on Wednesday night. The interview was at half past ten in the morning and for a whole other set of reasons, I ended up at the airport 45 minutes early and $12 poorer. (There are no public buses going to the airport. Tony has decreed that if I do indeed get the post of Marketing Coordinator for the airport, I have to lobby Action Bus Services for buses to the airport. "It's just ridiculous, " he says.)
The job advert stated that they wanted, amongst other things, someone Creative, who Pays Attention To Detail, has Excellent Written Communication, has Proven Event Management Experience, and MIGHT HAVE a Working Knowledge of the Adobe Creative suite. Which is why I was caught completely off guard when the first question out of the Marketing Director's lips pertained to Macromedia Dreamweaver... and JAVA SCRIPTING.
Hello, if you wanted a Web Designer, SAY SO, LAH! Then I would have stayed clear of your job ad and saved myself the angst, a $12 bus fare, and half a day's sacrificed pay.
Round Two of Interview with Airport comes up on Wednesday. I am so not holding my breath, lor.
Didn't help the airport's PR when the bus driver of my $12 private bus ride from the airport MISSED MY STOP, and I ended up late meeting Tony by half an hour.
Meanwhile on the freelance design front, I got patronised on Thursday night into actually believing that I was stupid and paranoid for worrying that my artwork could not be sent by email. I was told I should quit worrying, and save myself or anyone else the unnecessary trip down to the printer when all I needed to do was to send the artwork by email "because printers have really big inboxes; they really DO! It's their JOB to get big files!"
Not 111mb ones, they can't!
I really should have known better. I DID THIS FOR A LIVING! How could I have been silly enough to be blindsided by someone whose knowledge of 'desktop publishing' stops at Microsoft Word? But blindsided I was and on Thursday night at 11.15pm, I was standing over a peaceful, sleeping Tony, trying to muster the courage to break it to him that I had to go to Fyshwick the next morning and he had to drive me there.
One day, I will look back at all this with fondness. For now, I am just hanging in there, totally grateful that I've married someone so patient with me.
Splendid Day means not doing anything much of consequence. Splendid Day included reclaiming some of my old lifestyle habits back... like taking care of my hair and expanding my wardrobe. Splendid Day also meant not putting away the groceries because Beloved Husband whom I Adore and am Totally Sorry I Made His Week Awful Because I Had An Awful Week had lovingly gone home with everything after the grocery shopping, so as to leave me alone in a beeg beeg mall to have my Splendid Day.
I rewarded both of us with a big pot of chicken curry this evening. Splendid Day stipulates that all baby potatoes in home made curries shall turn out beautifully soft yet firm. Splendid Day also ensured just the right level of burn in the curry, and that none should splash on white shirt or baby pink jumper. Splendid Day left just enough curry to feed us both for another meal, so I won't need to think about cooking for either tomorrow or Monday afternoon.
It's been SUCH a needed reprieve. I'm not really sure what it was about this past week that made me shrivel up into a ball in the middle of it all and just weep. I'm sure it's accumulative somehow, coupled with an overall lower self-esteem because of the sad estate of my job hunt. I've said this before (although that was really more of a rant): serious job hunting is immensely draining, particularly when you always want to get it just right. I submitted two resumes this week, and while it was brilliant that I was called 10 hours later for a job interview, just the process of investing the time, energy, and emotion in each application ON TOP of a normal work week and a freelance job (and housework, and cooking...) left me almost bereft of the will to wear baby pink tops.
BTW, if you're a Singaporean, the bigger Australian companies tend to want a statement addressing their Selection Criteria. This, by far, is the biggest pain in the butt I've ever come across, with unwritten rules and codes on the 'right words', and the 'right technique of answering' and all that jazz. I've filled out 3 so far, and I don't get better at it each time. It's hard, hard work and easily demands a 1,000 word 'essay' on the absolute nothing you've achieved.
I had an interview with the airport yesterday. Yes, this was the interview that was offered 10 hours after I submitted my resume on Wednesday night. The interview was at half past ten in the morning and for a whole other set of reasons, I ended up at the airport 45 minutes early and $12 poorer. (There are no public buses going to the airport. Tony has decreed that if I do indeed get the post of Marketing Coordinator for the airport, I have to lobby Action Bus Services for buses to the airport. "It's just ridiculous, " he says.)
The job advert stated that they wanted, amongst other things, someone Creative, who Pays Attention To Detail, has Excellent Written Communication, has Proven Event Management Experience, and MIGHT HAVE a Working Knowledge of the Adobe Creative suite. Which is why I was caught completely off guard when the first question out of the Marketing Director's lips pertained to Macromedia Dreamweaver... and JAVA SCRIPTING.
Hello, if you wanted a Web Designer, SAY SO, LAH! Then I would have stayed clear of your job ad and saved myself the angst, a $12 bus fare, and half a day's sacrificed pay.
Round Two of Interview with Airport comes up on Wednesday. I am so not holding my breath, lor.
Didn't help the airport's PR when the bus driver of my $12 private bus ride from the airport MISSED MY STOP, and I ended up late meeting Tony by half an hour.
Meanwhile on the freelance design front, I got patronised on Thursday night into actually believing that I was stupid and paranoid for worrying that my artwork could not be sent by email. I was told I should quit worrying, and save myself or anyone else the unnecessary trip down to the printer when all I needed to do was to send the artwork by email "because printers have really big inboxes; they really DO! It's their JOB to get big files!"
Not 111mb ones, they can't!
I really should have known better. I DID THIS FOR A LIVING! How could I have been silly enough to be blindsided by someone whose knowledge of 'desktop publishing' stops at Microsoft Word? But blindsided I was and on Thursday night at 11.15pm, I was standing over a peaceful, sleeping Tony, trying to muster the courage to break it to him that I had to go to Fyshwick the next morning and he had to drive me there.
One day, I will look back at all this with fondness. For now, I am just hanging in there, totally grateful that I've married someone so patient with me.
Friday, May 06, 2005
~ Waiting for the Weekend ~
List of things I'd like to indulge in this weekend
Accomplishing any one of these items would be a real treat.
- Treat my hair
- Buy a nice black work jacket
- Buy a nice black working bag
- Buy a nice pair of black work shoes to replace lousy, blister-giving ones with the flaking insoles, that walked the whole of Fyshwick
- Buy a nice, knit top
- Buy a nice work skirt
Accomplishing any one of these items would be a real treat.
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
~ Suck in your breath; this is a long, hard one. ~
Absolutely Grumpy. Absolutely Knackered. Not very impressed with the world at the moment.
What is it about looking for jobs that just saps the living daylights out of individuals? Is it the absolute bore of going through the same material over and over to try and squash your life and embellish your limited experience so it can answer a few nebulous statements like "shows great attention to detail"? Or is it just the very deflating suspicion niggling at the back of your mind that
a) You will spend the better part of 4 nights looking at this stupid document and answering their inane questions, only to have the email get lost in the clutter.
b) You will spend what could have been blogging/West Wing Rerun time on the computer schlogging over this stupid job application, only to miss clinching the interview because you DON'T HAVE A DRIVER'S LICENSE BECAUSE YOU ARE A SINGAPOREAN WHO COULDN'T AFFORD IT IN THE FIRST PLACE.
c) You will spend ridiculous lengths of time editing and re-editing your work, only to click 'send' and be glossed over for the interview because you are Chinese, and they have a vague idea of Chinese people mixing up their Rs and Ls or faking cringe-worthy Aussie (pronounced oZZie) accents so they figure, "Let's not have the Chinese lady go anywhere near the communication job".
The last one is a bit unfair but since my present job is a bit lonesome, I don't care.
I just spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to put together an application with some written examples included. It's a long story, concerning the use of !#%@#%@^!% PHOTOSHOP and Adobe Acrobat and not having enough sleep or fun for the last month. The bottomline is that I am really unhappy with working and looking for new jobs at the same time. On top of it all - and I know I shouldn't complain but the timing couldn't be worse - I'm doing the marketing collateral for this University choir that's coming to Canberra from Lubbock, Texas. That's actually a fun project for me... but it'd be a lot more fun if I didn't have to niggle over inconsequential details.
I'm complaining about churchwork! I should stop.
Back to looking for a job, while having a job.
Know what I miss about Singapore? TAXIS! The last thing I want to do after waking up at 6.15am for work in this freezing cold , is to stand and wait for buses at 6.15pm after work in this freezing cold. I know I haven't flown the notorious Singapore Flag of crazy overtime and workaholism but you know what? Sitting 8.5 hours straight at the computer without actually having any proper discourse with anyone in the office is unbelievably draining, not be mention boring. To come back home and have my ego shot down further with a badly cooked meal by moi, and then spend another chunk of time trying to resuscitate a photoshop file that crashed the computer 4 times...
You know what I REALLY miss about Singapore? SHOPPING, dammit. I have not SHOPPED for far too long because my best friend and man of my life hates shopping - and it doesn't help that stores here close at 5pm, and there are only really 4 malls. And all I really want to do now is to have a weekend where I can just go and shop, buy clothes and shoes and not worry about crossing some stupid budget I had put on myself, go for a massage, treat my hair, do something about my nails because 2 broke, and just have fun the way I've always had after a long, hard day at work.
By the way, watching Jamie Oliver's School Dinners after spoiling my own dinner was a bad idea. I have the intense need to slap a dozen British school children for being such incredible brats. I NEED AN OUTLET!!!!!
What is it about looking for jobs that just saps the living daylights out of individuals? Is it the absolute bore of going through the same material over and over to try and squash your life and embellish your limited experience so it can answer a few nebulous statements like "shows great attention to detail"? Or is it just the very deflating suspicion niggling at the back of your mind that
a) You will spend the better part of 4 nights looking at this stupid document and answering their inane questions, only to have the email get lost in the clutter.
b) You will spend what could have been blogging/West Wing Rerun time on the computer schlogging over this stupid job application, only to miss clinching the interview because you DON'T HAVE A DRIVER'S LICENSE BECAUSE YOU ARE A SINGAPOREAN WHO COULDN'T AFFORD IT IN THE FIRST PLACE.
c) You will spend ridiculous lengths of time editing and re-editing your work, only to click 'send' and be glossed over for the interview because you are Chinese, and they have a vague idea of Chinese people mixing up their Rs and Ls or faking cringe-worthy Aussie (pronounced oZZie) accents so they figure, "Let's not have the Chinese lady go anywhere near the communication job".
The last one is a bit unfair but since my present job is a bit lonesome, I don't care.
I just spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to put together an application with some written examples included. It's a long story, concerning the use of !#%@#%@^!% PHOTOSHOP and Adobe Acrobat and not having enough sleep or fun for the last month. The bottomline is that I am really unhappy with working and looking for new jobs at the same time. On top of it all - and I know I shouldn't complain but the timing couldn't be worse - I'm doing the marketing collateral for this University choir that's coming to Canberra from Lubbock, Texas. That's actually a fun project for me... but it'd be a lot more fun if I didn't have to niggle over inconsequential details.
I'm complaining about churchwork! I should stop.
Back to looking for a job, while having a job.
Know what I miss about Singapore? TAXIS! The last thing I want to do after waking up at 6.15am for work in this freezing cold , is to stand and wait for buses at 6.15pm after work in this freezing cold. I know I haven't flown the notorious Singapore Flag of crazy overtime and workaholism but you know what? Sitting 8.5 hours straight at the computer without actually having any proper discourse with anyone in the office is unbelievably draining, not be mention boring. To come back home and have my ego shot down further with a badly cooked meal by moi, and then spend another chunk of time trying to resuscitate a photoshop file that crashed the computer 4 times...
You know what I REALLY miss about Singapore? SHOPPING, dammit. I have not SHOPPED for far too long because my best friend and man of my life hates shopping - and it doesn't help that stores here close at 5pm, and there are only really 4 malls. And all I really want to do now is to have a weekend where I can just go and shop, buy clothes and shoes and not worry about crossing some stupid budget I had put on myself, go for a massage, treat my hair, do something about my nails because 2 broke, and just have fun the way I've always had after a long, hard day at work.
By the way, watching Jamie Oliver's School Dinners after spoiling my own dinner was a bad idea. I have the intense need to slap a dozen British school children for being such incredible brats. I NEED AN OUTLET!!!!!
