I haven't updated for a few days because I haven't actually been doing anything except sitting on the couch coughing my way through a mild cold and trying to get myself to work on all my overdue papers. Not terribly exciting, I'm afraid.
I did succeed in finishing two of them, which leaves one still overdue and another not due until early January. Unfortunately it's the overdue one that's holding me up. I'm flailing about it for reasons I can't quite pin down, but I think they have to do with wanting the paper to be amazing because it's for my favorite class. I'm intimidated, I suppose. Some part of my brain is telling me I'm not good enough to write this paper. It's lying, I know, but that doesn't stop me from listening.
Fortunately it's for Professor Awesome's class and he's being, well, awesome about it. I at least have a very general outline now, so maybe I can just start writing and worry about the quality once I've gotten past all that horrible white space.
Besides that I'm just waiting for (my one and only) payday so I have an excuse to leave the house for groceries. Depending on the size of the paycheck, I may check out the German Christmas Market (which I'm told is somewhere on Southbank), splurge on a cup of Glühwein, and maybe see The Hobbit. If, that is, I get that last overdue paper done. I'll consider it a reward.
Observation of the day: Even when it feels cold enough to snow here, it doesn't. Or at least it hasn't, yet. Today was all rainy though, which I still love.
December 19, 2012
December 15, 2012
So... that happened
It's been a rather intense weekend. And there's still more to go...
Thursday night I ended up meeting mostly the same crew from Monday night, Professor Awesome included. This time I managed to go the whole night without disremembering, falling, or otherwise injuring myself. I did spend money that I really shouldn't have, but besides that it was fun. I kind of wish I'd gotten to know my classmates a little sooner.
Unfortunately this led to another day of sleeping and being useless on Friday. I managed to be well rested and ready for work this morning though, so again, yay me!
This is where things get a bit schizophrenic. My shift started pretty well, actually. I got my assigned rooms (a reduced number since I was basically starting back at square one after re-training) and actually got them all done two hours before my shift was due to end. I was quite proud of myself. I offered to help out with anything outstanding since I was scheduled to be there a while longer, and was assigned another room.
That's when it all fell apart.
Basically, everything that could go wrong with the room did. I could not get the fucking duvet cover on properly, so it took me ages to do the bed. That was the first time my supervisor popped in and told me I needed to go faster. Then the vacuum (sorry, Hoover) barely worked. Then my back tried to give out on me while I was cleaning the tub, so that took longer than usual as well. By this point my supervisor had been in two more times, making sure to say "you need to go faster" at least once or twice per visit. Finally one of the spray bottles of cleaner fell apart in my hand and spilled all over the carpet.
I still managed to hold it together, in spite of my supervisor lurking and making sure I knew I had to move faster.
Finally all I had to do was put away the trolley (the stuff with all the linens and whatnot that maids drag around the halls to avoid running back and forth to the linen closets) and vacuum the hallway. Unfortunately the porters hadn't bothered to empty the thing of dirty linen the entire day so it wouldn't fit in the closet until I called to get someone to clean it out already. Meanwhile I ran back to my section to finish the vacuuming while the porter emptied the trolley, which was where I was confronted yet again by the supervisor, telling me I need to go faster.
If anyone heard a CRACK around 5:30pm GMT (that's 11:30am back home), that was my sanity giving way.
A meltdown ensued involving lots of crying and several other supervisors trying to convince me not to quit. To be honest I have no idea why they even cared if I stayed or not... the only feedback I've ever gotten from this any of them is that I'm not fast enough. Even the assistant head of housekeeping got involved and basically tried to prop me up by saying that he knows it's a stressful job, but that's good because it prepares you and makes you stronger.
Uhm. Ok.
What I wish I'd said at the time is: "Seriously? If that were true, I'd be the motherfucking Hulk by now. Stress =/= strength, stress = more and more anxiety until I end up in an institution screaming HULK SMASH at the motherfucking orderlies."
Instead I told him I'd think about it and get back to him. Not that I plan to do either. I'm so very gone from that place.
So, I'm unemployed again. Now I just have to figure out What To Do Next. Fortunately I have a list started, so I'm on the way. Number One is to concentrate on getting my end of term papers done. Once they're in the bag, I'll intensify the job hunt and make a very careful budget for the next month or so.
Also at the top of my list: pretending that I do not have a sore throat or a mouth full of cold sores. (HULK SMASH!)
Thursday night I ended up meeting mostly the same crew from Monday night, Professor Awesome included. This time I managed to go the whole night without disremembering, falling, or otherwise injuring myself. I did spend money that I really shouldn't have, but besides that it was fun. I kind of wish I'd gotten to know my classmates a little sooner.
Unfortunately this led to another day of sleeping and being useless on Friday. I managed to be well rested and ready for work this morning though, so again, yay me!
This is where things get a bit schizophrenic. My shift started pretty well, actually. I got my assigned rooms (a reduced number since I was basically starting back at square one after re-training) and actually got them all done two hours before my shift was due to end. I was quite proud of myself. I offered to help out with anything outstanding since I was scheduled to be there a while longer, and was assigned another room.
That's when it all fell apart.
Basically, everything that could go wrong with the room did. I could not get the fucking duvet cover on properly, so it took me ages to do the bed. That was the first time my supervisor popped in and told me I needed to go faster. Then the vacuum (sorry, Hoover) barely worked. Then my back tried to give out on me while I was cleaning the tub, so that took longer than usual as well. By this point my supervisor had been in two more times, making sure to say "you need to go faster" at least once or twice per visit. Finally one of the spray bottles of cleaner fell apart in my hand and spilled all over the carpet.
I still managed to hold it together, in spite of my supervisor lurking and making sure I knew I had to move faster.
Finally all I had to do was put away the trolley (the stuff with all the linens and whatnot that maids drag around the halls to avoid running back and forth to the linen closets) and vacuum the hallway. Unfortunately the porters hadn't bothered to empty the thing of dirty linen the entire day so it wouldn't fit in the closet until I called to get someone to clean it out already. Meanwhile I ran back to my section to finish the vacuuming while the porter emptied the trolley, which was where I was confronted yet again by the supervisor, telling me I need to go faster.
If anyone heard a CRACK around 5:30pm GMT (that's 11:30am back home), that was my sanity giving way.
A meltdown ensued involving lots of crying and several other supervisors trying to convince me not to quit. To be honest I have no idea why they even cared if I stayed or not... the only feedback I've ever gotten from this any of them is that I'm not fast enough. Even the assistant head of housekeeping got involved and basically tried to prop me up by saying that he knows it's a stressful job, but that's good because it prepares you and makes you stronger.
Uhm. Ok.
What I wish I'd said at the time is: "Seriously? If that were true, I'd be the motherfucking Hulk by now. Stress =/= strength, stress = more and more anxiety until I end up in an institution screaming HULK SMASH at the motherfucking orderlies."
Instead I told him I'd think about it and get back to him. Not that I plan to do either. I'm so very gone from that place.
So, I'm unemployed again. Now I just have to figure out What To Do Next. Fortunately I have a list started, so I'm on the way. Number One is to concentrate on getting my end of term papers done. Once they're in the bag, I'll intensify the job hunt and make a very careful budget for the next month or so.
Also at the top of my list: pretending that I do not have a sore throat or a mouth full of cold sores. (HULK SMASH!)
December 12, 2012
(Sort of) Movie review: Magic Mike
(Things get a wee bit ranty up in here, but I tried to keep it somewhat light after venting off all The Rage in my first draft. Enjoy!)
After a day of stuffing film theory in my head, I got a text from the roomie: "Was thinking Magic Mike, tomato soup, tuna melts."
My response: "OOMG YES PLS." (sic.)
Much amazing food was had and I even managed to get a bit more studying in during the snore-inducing "plot" scenes. I also became kind of curious about the movie, so popped onto IMDb to check it out, which was when I stumbled onto a thread honking about the "double standard" of the movie.
Seriously you guys. I could not stop laughing.
Basically the arguments against the film and the primarily female audience's reactions were made by men crossing their arms and HRMPHing something about how if someone made a movie about female strippers and they made such a big deal about seeing it, women would have an absolute snit.
First of all, at least three movies about female strippers spring immediately to mind. Showgirls, Striptease, and Dancing at the Blue Iguana. Those are just off the top of my head. Already these poor men are losing the battle.
Second, cry me a river. For real. If there isn't a single man out there decrying this film as the direct result of a bruised ego, I'll eat my laptop. They can wave their double standards! flag all they want, but if they conquered their discomfort long enough to watch the film they'd see how misogynist it is. Women are portrayed as either pathetically screaming and waving money around or ready to leap into bed with the object of their lust without a single thought. The male strippers in the movie love their jobs, because they spend their working hours having their egos stroked and their off hours having their dicks stroked, both by slathering fangirls. The one "normal" woman in the film is so shrewish in her rejection of the lifestyle that she swiftly becomes intolerable.
Does this detract from my enjoyment of the film? Hell no. Especially with the DVD release, which allowed me to skip right past all that pesky plot and just watch the dance scenes. I did see it in the theater as well and although I did not witness any of the screaming exuberance that seems to irk so many of these harping men, my friend and I joked throughout about throwing quarters at the screen and get to the damn dance sequences already. And also Matthew McConaughey because he is fucking hilarious in this movie. Alright alright alright indeed.
Most guys I know probably do not feel this way. I'm sure most of them are perfectly fine with the women in their lives, be they wives, girlfriends, sisters, or friends, appreciating the, er, aesthetics of the movie. They may be a little threatened by our attraction to the film's stars, but most of them understand that we women feel the same way when our significant others' eyes start to fall out of their heads during trailers with Angelina Jolie in them. And if we women celebrate the existence of Magic Mike a little more vocally than men are "allowed" to cheer on the lovely Ms. Jolie's topless scenes, it's because women have spent so much time in the passive, "looked at" role and men in the active, "looking" role. If you don't believe me, I have reams of film studies essays to back me up. When this position is ever-so-rarely reversed, we get a little excited.
We shouldn't have to apologize for that. Or for this:
You're welcome, my male-enamored friends.
After a day of stuffing film theory in my head, I got a text from the roomie: "Was thinking Magic Mike, tomato soup, tuna melts."
My response: "OOMG YES PLS." (sic.)
Much amazing food was had and I even managed to get a bit more studying in during the snore-inducing "plot" scenes. I also became kind of curious about the movie, so popped onto IMDb to check it out, which was when I stumbled onto a thread honking about the "double standard" of the movie.
Seriously you guys. I could not stop laughing.
Basically the arguments against the film and the primarily female audience's reactions were made by men crossing their arms and HRMPHing something about how if someone made a movie about female strippers and they made such a big deal about seeing it, women would have an absolute snit.
First of all, at least three movies about female strippers spring immediately to mind. Showgirls, Striptease, and Dancing at the Blue Iguana. Those are just off the top of my head. Already these poor men are losing the battle.
Second, cry me a river. For real. If there isn't a single man out there decrying this film as the direct result of a bruised ego, I'll eat my laptop. They can wave their double standards! flag all they want, but if they conquered their discomfort long enough to watch the film they'd see how misogynist it is. Women are portrayed as either pathetically screaming and waving money around or ready to leap into bed with the object of their lust without a single thought. The male strippers in the movie love their jobs, because they spend their working hours having their egos stroked and their off hours having their dicks stroked, both by slathering fangirls. The one "normal" woman in the film is so shrewish in her rejection of the lifestyle that she swiftly becomes intolerable.
Does this detract from my enjoyment of the film? Hell no. Especially with the DVD release, which allowed me to skip right past all that pesky plot and just watch the dance scenes. I did see it in the theater as well and although I did not witness any of the screaming exuberance that seems to irk so many of these harping men, my friend and I joked throughout about throwing quarters at the screen and get to the damn dance sequences already. And also Matthew McConaughey because he is fucking hilarious in this movie. Alright alright alright indeed.
Most guys I know probably do not feel this way. I'm sure most of them are perfectly fine with the women in their lives, be they wives, girlfriends, sisters, or friends, appreciating the, er, aesthetics of the movie. They may be a little threatened by our attraction to the film's stars, but most of them understand that we women feel the same way when our significant others' eyes start to fall out of their heads during trailers with Angelina Jolie in them. And if we women celebrate the existence of Magic Mike a little more vocally than men are "allowed" to cheer on the lovely Ms. Jolie's topless scenes, it's because women have spent so much time in the passive, "looked at" role and men in the active, "looking" role. If you don't believe me, I have reams of film studies essays to back me up. When this position is ever-so-rarely reversed, we get a little excited.
We shouldn't have to apologize for that. Or for this:
You're welcome, my male-enamored friends.
I should be writing my paper, but...
I didn't post the past few days because I was engaged in/recovering from the quintessential student experience of closing down the pub with my fellow students and also Professor Awesome. Because he's, you know. Awesome.
Speaking of quintessential experiences, I also had one later that night as I wandered drunkenly around central London attempting to find where my Night Bus picks up. It took a long time and a very helpful mystery man named Adam to get me there. Along the way I had a disagreement with the pavement. I lost.
Speaking of quintessential experiences, I also had one later that night as I wandered drunkenly around central London attempting to find where my Night Bus picks up. It took a long time and a very helpful mystery man named Adam to get me there. Along the way I had a disagreement with the pavement. I lost.
Pavement 1, Melanie 0
But before all the fun got started, I successfully sold two textbooks and netted nearly £18, which means I got to buy litter for the cats and food for all of us last night. Because I'm not gonna lie, the litterbox situation had reached Defcon One and all of us were suffering.
I also attended a Christmas party for the Film Studies department. One of the many things I love about attending University in England is that there is free wine at every event. I mean, every event. There were also nibbles, and I had my first mince pie (which, in spite of the name, contain no meat).
Random observation of the day: American college students love buying rounds. Just because they can. Bless them. Or possibly curse them.
December 9, 2012
What a difference a competent manager makes...
I think I figured out a way to conquer the snooze button problem... adding my cell phone in as an alternate alarm so I have to hit snooze twice as often, which wakes me up more effectively. Worked like a charm this morning!
Today was an interesting day at work. Which is saying a lot because let's face it, being a maid at a major Mystery Hotel Chain is not that interesting.
Thanks to my skive day yesterday, I was oblivious to the staff meeting that started at 9am this morning. I showed up at 10am and had missed most of the meeting already, but I did get there in time for the Housekeeping manager to basically chew the entire maid staff a collective new asshole. Then I got called up to her office for a one-on-one meeting, which made me pretty nervous after my lateness, my skive day, and the fact that I know I'm well behind the curve as far as work performance.
It turns out she just wanted to straighten out all the lack of training I got as a result of being the only part-time new hire. She had been away my first two weeks so hadn't been able to check in until now, only to find that nobody bothered to actually train me properly. Rather than sending me off on my own again, she paired me up with an extremely skilled and very nice gentleman maid (about 85% of the maids are dudes, which is sort of hilarious) who taught me some actual useful tricks that required very little short-cutting to get the rooms clean. Frankly, they should have sent me out with this guy much sooner because I finally learned the real trick to putting a duvet cover on in under 30 second, without breaking your arms - or even a sweat - in the process.
I'm still going to keep looking for another job, because this one is really just too physically intense for me at this point, and also it pays terribly (just a hair above minimum wage and about 25% under London living wage). But at least I feel less stressed about this job in the meantime.
Random observation of the day: I always feel kind of bad when people tell me their English is "not so good." I've yet to meet someone who told me that whose English skills are not perfectly acceptable. Not to mention the fact that I certainly don't speak a second language, like, at all, so as far as I'm concerned they're a hell of a lot better at languages than I am. I wish they'd stop being so hard on themselves... I admire the hell out of them.
Today was an interesting day at work. Which is saying a lot because let's face it, being a maid at a major Mystery Hotel Chain is not that interesting.
Thanks to my skive day yesterday, I was oblivious to the staff meeting that started at 9am this morning. I showed up at 10am and had missed most of the meeting already, but I did get there in time for the Housekeeping manager to basically chew the entire maid staff a collective new asshole. Then I got called up to her office for a one-on-one meeting, which made me pretty nervous after my lateness, my skive day, and the fact that I know I'm well behind the curve as far as work performance.
It turns out she just wanted to straighten out all the lack of training I got as a result of being the only part-time new hire. She had been away my first two weeks so hadn't been able to check in until now, only to find that nobody bothered to actually train me properly. Rather than sending me off on my own again, she paired me up with an extremely skilled and very nice gentleman maid (about 85% of the maids are dudes, which is sort of hilarious) who taught me some actual useful tricks that required very little short-cutting to get the rooms clean. Frankly, they should have sent me out with this guy much sooner because I finally learned the real trick to putting a duvet cover on in under 30 second, without breaking your arms - or even a sweat - in the process.
I'm still going to keep looking for another job, because this one is really just too physically intense for me at this point, and also it pays terribly (just a hair above minimum wage and about 25% under London living wage). But at least I feel less stressed about this job in the meantime.
Random observation of the day: I always feel kind of bad when people tell me their English is "not so good." I've yet to meet someone who told me that whose English skills are not perfectly acceptable. Not to mention the fact that I certainly don't speak a second language, like, at all, so as far as I'm concerned they're a hell of a lot better at languages than I am. I wish they'd stop being so hard on themselves... I admire the hell out of them.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)