Hello again

So. I've had another day's work. Two days of paid work in two years. Outstanding.

Centrelink is unbelievably crappy. Wanna know how much you can earn before it cuts into the dole? I would have thought $200 a week would be reasonable, so I guessed it would be more like $100. I was so wrong. A person can earn the sizeable total of $31 a week before it affects the dole. You heard me.

Anyway. Turns out there's another book I've started re-reading as soon as I finished it. Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace. First thing of his I've read, and since he killed himself in September 2008, he won't be producing anything else soon. Quick sum-up: I very much enjoyed the book, despite its size, lengthy and sometimes (in my opinion) unnecessary footnotes. Although I enjoyed it, I had to re-read it out of confusion. First, it's really bloody long - 1000 or so pages with the footnotes - and very complex. Plus I found the ending so confusing I went back to the beginning to see if that would ease my confusion. I'm only half way through the second reading, so I'll fill you in again when I finish the re-read.

My sister's wedding is less than a month away. Bridesmaid's dresses still not received (or paid for). So I can't buy shoes... looks like that's gonna be another last minute thing. Just like have the adjustments to the dresses done. Joy.

No hope

Of course I didn't get the job. That's the way my fucked-up life goes.

Anyway. Tomorrow I've got a day of paid work. One day. After almost two years of searching.

Sucks to be me.

I could have a job

Bloody hell. It's taken more than two years from the time I was told my former job was being made redundant, to the redundancy taking effect, through 17 months of searching for employment. It's been a nightmare - financially, self-esteem-wise... in so many ways.

But I'm waiting to hear if I've got a part-time job until November. It's not my dream role, but it's a paying position. And god knows I need it for my confidence, to avoid becoming homeless, and lots of other reasons.

Fingers crossed!

Update: Friday So, I had a phone interview for this job a couple of weeks ago. Next Thursday, I'll meet one of the people with who (whom?) I had the interview. Experience tells me they'll then change their minds and I won't get it. Still, fingers crossed (just a little less tightly).

New PM

So. Julia's PM, Kevin's out. Stoked! Some people have expressed concern about "the way it happened". Pffft. That's politics, or pretty much any job, I say. If you're not performing, and have lost the support of your peers (and in this case, people giving their views to opinion polls) you're out.

Perhaps people are uncomfortable with the timing of Kev going, given the appearance of instability in the ALP so close to a looming election. Again, pffffft. Should Labor have stuck with someone who was clearly becoming a political liability, therefore giving up any electoral lead it might/may still have? I don't think so. And yes, I'm concerned the voting public won't accept a female PM, and one given little time to prove herself (or otherwise) before the election, but I'd rather it this way than stumbling through to the election with Rudd being accused of arrogance, failure to listen, surrounding himself with yes-men, etc.

And that's pretty much all I have to say about that.

Comments on the blog's new look? I like the colour scheme much more than the previous one. Otherwise, not much going on in my life. Trying to get back into journalism and scaring crap out of myself in the process, plus fighting writer's block. Off to a friend's wedding next weekend. It's going to be formal so I'm dragging out an old dress. That's scary in itself! And never let it be said this blog focuses only on the big or small picture: here we've got the nation and the individual mentioned... in one post no less.

Sucks to be me

That is all.

Oh, and happy winter.

Ranting

You know what? Potential employers with unrealistic expectations can take their McJobs and shove them.

I've recently been rejected for a job, for the umpteenth time in these 16 months of unemployment. No surprise there. It was a two day a week admin role, earning a grand total of $259 each week before tax. But after the interview - which took place with four hours' notice, and meant I had to re-arrange travel plans. Fuckers - the arseholes said they'd decided to not go with me because I'd been honest about the fact that I'd have to look for another job to fit in around the two day a week role.

So what they really wanted was someone with full-time availability for approximately half of the legislated minimum wage. Realistically, the only people I can think of in that position are stay-at-home parents, with partners earning a gazillion dollars, who just want to earn play money. Totally not me, in other words.

Anyway.


In other news, the cunt who said the job I had for seven years was redundant has been asked to leave the organisation... because they're a fucking useless waste of space (the person, not the organisation). Of course, it's been phrased as "seeking other opportunities" but the reality is they were really bad at their job, the organisation's profile has taken a major battering because of it, and their contract wasn't renewed at very short notice. What a shame. I hope it takes them at least two years to find another role. Cunt.

Well

Poor Christine Nixon continued to cop a flogging. Ridiculous. She went back to the commission after I posted and was understandably a little defensive. I would be too in that kind of situation. She had to stand up for herself.

When I checked, The Dawn Chorus didn't have anything on Christine's treatment in the media, which I found kinda surprising for a feminist blog. It's a Joan Kirner scenario all over again - treat her like shit because she happens to be an older, fat woman.

Anyway.

Christine Nixon

Fucking media. Leave Christine Nixon alone.

As a former journalist, never thought I'd be moaning about the quality of media coverage in this city. But here I am. Find ourselves in strange places sometimes.

So, my problem with the recent reporting of Christine and what she did or didn't do on February 7 last year is that, in my view, it's sexist, biased, and just ridiculous. I've never met her, but count myself as an admirer. In her roles as former Chief Commissioner of Victoria Police and now head of the Bushfire Reconstruction Authority, she's warm, personable, honest, accountable, etc etc. Yeah, she's a really good media operator, but we frankly see very little of them. I have no doubt she's as much of a politician as anyone we regularly see in the news or read about, but she comes across really well. Is she doing a good job or not? That's not for me to decide or judge.

However, the fact that she's been made to apologise for EATING, and/or leaving the Incident Control Centre (ICC) on Black Saturday, is absolute bullshit. I reckon her being put over a barrel like this comes from the fact that she's a woman, and not a small one. Have questions been asked of senior men in emergency services about when they left the ICC on Feb 7 and what they did after, and did they eat? And had the questions been asked, were the answers reported? Like fuck they were. So no. Some sexist fuckers with an axe to grind have been let loose and Christine's copping it. Pun unintended. Jesus. I know the journos are just doing their jobs, but in this case, the coverage seems unbalanced. I know for a fact that some senior men left the ICC relatively early on Feb 7, and while food is often available in such places during major incidents, I can pretty much guarantee some wouldn't have eaten there. But they haven't been criticised for that.

The Dawn Chorus might have written up something on this topic. I'll check and get back to you.

Rant over.

Sorry it's been a while between posts. Motivation lacking.

Also not bleak

Drifting into sleep with rain pattering on the roof and window.

Drinking tea. It's taken me 37 years but I'm loving a cuppa with milk and two sugars.

My nieces and nephews, who are so cute they make my ovaries ache.

That is all.

Not bleak

I've been asked to be a godmother! To my best friend's youngest son. What an honour! I'm kinda shocked that anyone would think I'm able enough to be a potential substitute parent, but so thrilled I cried when they asked me. Probably proving I'm no where near emotionally stable enough for the role...

My friend's premmie baby is home! Going to see them today. Can't wait!

Bleak

Procrastination's just the way I roll, br'a. I've been putting off writing about this for a long time.

Things have been shitful for what seems like forever. This all began in early February last year when the job I'd been in for a week short of seven years was made redundant. I worked for an emergency service and live in Victoria and most people know what happened on February 7 - lots of the state burned and 173 people died in those fires, and up until a few days before, I would have been able to help in that situation. I know that's selfish but I'm the kind of person who likes to make a difference in people's lives, even if in the tiniest way. Instead, I had to sit on the sidelines, transfixed in horror, and wonder if my former workmates, some who I was (and remain) very close to, were OK.

Then the global financial crisis began to really affect the job market. I thought it would be difficult to find another job even before the GFC began to bite, but had no idea it would take more than a year. There's no end in sight, and it's fairly soul-destroying. I've always been one of those people who, rightly or wrongly, has a lot of their self-identity bound up in their job. So I thought I handled the loss of much of my identity pretty well. Until recently, when it seems like a lot of my world is falling apart and it's made worse by the fact I just can't get a job - any fucking job, and believe me, I've applied for a lot. I seem to be unemployable, which confirms for me what being made redundant made me think - that I'm a shit employee. Or potential employee. Whatever. All this has resurfaced because a couple of weeks ago I was one of the final two candidates for a job I really wanted (duh! I'm desperate) and at which I would have been really good. I wasn't going to allow myself to get excited about the possibility of being employed again. But did. And now am struggling because I've once again failed. Fuck.

Which leads me to: Centrelink. Jesus Christ. I got a redundancy payout, and lived off it for a year. But finally ran out of money and had to resort to the dole. And dealing with the Federal Government is not my idea of a good time. Nor is surviving on the government's idea of an income. Truly, reporting my financial situation to Centrelink to see if I was eligible for the dole was more invasive than a Pap smear. Yes, I'm lucky to live in a country with a welfare system. And that I can access that welfare system. But the fact remains that after I pay rent, I've got $120 a month to live on. That's right, you heard me. $120 A MONTH. Which doesn't even cover petrol for a week. Let alone food, bills, entertainment, hairdresser, charity donations... you know, all those things which make a life. It's utterly unrealistic and makes the pain of dealing with the bureaucracy worse.

Here's an example of how retarded it all is. I rock up to the dole office, take a deep breath and say 'I need to sign up for the dole'. "Oh, you don't come in to the office. You need to ring us first. Use that phone over there."

That phone over there, in the open, where all who are in the office can hear? Yep, that one.

On hold. Gets answered. "I need to sign up for the dole, please."

"We need to ask you some questions. It'll take about 15 minutes. Is that OK?"

Forty-five minutes later, and still only half-way through the questionnaire. Computer system's down. I have to call back the next day.

Call back. On hold. Have to go through all the questions again, plus the ones they didn't get to. "You'll need to see one of our staff members. The earliest appointment's in a week. Then we'll consider payment."

Appointment in a week. And still no payment? What if I had literally no money? Christ. Luckily, things weren't quite that bad. Yet.

Go to the appointment. Staff member answers the phone in the middle of the akin-to-Pap-smear-invasive-questions. Is nearly in tears. "I'm sorry, there's just been a major family trauma..."

Fuck. Am I supposed to comfort her? Ask if she needs a break. No, she's OK and wants to continue, she replies. Except she's shaking and crying. Jesus. I want to be more sympathetic but the fact is, I'm here for her/the government's help. Anyway. "You are eligible. You'll get payment in a week. That payment will be... TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS," she says excitedly, as if telling me I've just won first prize in the world's smallest and most inadequate lottery.

All that for $200? No wonder I put off resorting to Centrelink for as long as I did. I don't know how people manage on "benefits" of any kind for any period of time. Adjusting to not having money is one of the hardest things I've dealt with in my life.

Oh dear

Jesus, I can be harsh. That previous post was perhaps a little too honest or unconsidered. Still, guess I was venting.

Hmmm. Father's funeral. The night before, I was with all my siblings, their partners and children for the first time in about a year. And it was the first time we'd all stayed in one place for almost 20 years. Surprisingly, given our rocky relationships, there were no fights. Nor the day of the funeral or the day after. Weird. But nice.

His funeral was nice enough as funerals go. It was hard to see my youngest siblings desperately sad. It was good to see some people I haven't since seen my childhood - pity about the circumstance. It was touching to see some people connected with where I used to work - and which he was involved with a few years back - attend and bring flowers, though it was several hours away from where they're based.

He was a Vietnam veteran and was spoken about as a hero, all-round good bloke and how he'll be sadly missed. I'm having trouble reconciling the 'hero/nice guy' stuff with the reality of my violent, prolonged nightmare of a childhood. I'll get there.

Another short one

Saw my friend's premature baby boy a week or so ago. He's the tiniest thing I've ever seen. I cried at his minisculeness. And that it'd been such a close thing - his sister died at 31 weeks two years ago and the reason for his delivery by emergency caesar was the same thing was happening to him. But he's OK, putting on weight and such a cutie. Awwww.

And as for my father? He died about 9am today. I still feel nothing. Sorry that my siblings are upset, but that's all. I had the opportunity to go and 'say goodbye' but decided there was no point. He's effectively been dead to me for a long, long time. Visiting him while he was comatose seemed ridiculous. It would make no difference to him, and not to me, either. And I wasn't sure I could keep myself nice - ie, not whisper to him what a cunt I thought he was - so staying away was the best decision I oould make. Will I regret that decision? I strongly doubt it. And I would never say this about anyone else with cancer, but I feel it exposed his inherent weakness. Five weeks or so from diagnosis to death. He didn't even try to fight, it seems. Ironic since he spent so much time being a violent bastard when I was growing up. If it was anyone else, I'd say their body was simply overwhelmed, riddled with cancer and that's why they died so quickly. But him? Weak bastard.

Quick update

Briefly:

Was honoured to be asked by a friend to be one of her birth partners. The baby boy was due early March. Except he was born by emergency caesarean on January 10. He was born in country Victoria before being flown to Melb. He's been in neo-natal intensive care but is improving every day. Thankfully. A bed in Melb was found for his mum four days later... ridiculous. But she's OK too. He'll be in hospital until he reaches about six pounds or his expected birthdate, whichever eventuates first.

Birthday was lovely, thanks. Celebrations went on for several days and there'll even be a post-birthday treat next weekend, courtesy of a friend who wants to outrageously spoil me. Yay! But now I'm oooooooolllllllllldddddddd...

Shared those gorgeous butternut snap/caramel/chocolate treats around. Proud of myself for doing so! Have bought a stepper, which I vow to use at least twice a week. And will swim twice a week. And walk. And cut out most of the crap I eat. Fuck.

My youngest sibling is getting married. Was originally scheduled for October but has been brought forward to May because of the whole dying father situation. I'm a bridesmaid. Oh god, I'm likely to look like a walking wall of fabric. Although yes, I totally realise the day's not about me.

Dying father: he's been having radiotherapy and steriods but there's been complications (he has diabetes and the drugs are fucking with his blood sugar, apparently, plus he's got infections from somewhere.) Prognosis: steady.

That's about it. Although dealing with federal government bureaucracy has been... interesting. And time consuming. More about that later.

Sweet tooth?

One of my closest friends is a really good cook. Of everything, but particularly sweet stuff. Which I can't get enough of, which is problematic because I'm a porker and need to lose weight, but love food much more than exercise. And have no ability to say no to most foods. Anyway. She gave me about 12 kilos of rocky road for Christmas, and of course it was glorious, and of course I ate it in about three days. Ok, 12 kilos might be an exaggeration. But not much of one.

Right. Now picture this. Butternut snap biscuit. With homemade caramel on top, a good two centimetres thick. And about a centimetre of chocolate on top of the caramel. You're either drooling with desire or close to vomiting at the thought of all that gooey, chocolate-y, crunchy biscuit-y taste sensation goodness, aren't you? Me, I'm stoked to have a friend who so generously makes things like that for me! Slight problem though: she makes them each year for my birthday because they're one of my favourite things in the world (and she's a champion!). And I'm 37 tomorrow, so I've got a huge container full of them in the fridge. And I don't want to share, but nor should I eat them if I don't want to induce diabetes!

Such a dilemma ;)

Oh, and think I forgot to say: happy new year to all out there (Ahem... all two readers I know of!)

Thank fuck that's done with...

Last year was, frankly, cunty. I'm consequently really glad 2009 is over. More on that soon. Very soon. Promise.

Meanwhile, so many resolutions, so little willpower.