Monday, September 26, 2011

Job search

I seriously think that online job applications are basically only the first tests in the line of so many more.

There must me a tiny little camera hidden somewhere, peeking into our living room, recording what we're doing, how we're acting when we're applying and, finally, what sort of swear words we're coming up with.

Seriously, one would think that multi-million-whichever-currency companies would have a proper web site where nothing will fail to load, collapse or cause your whole computer to freeze. How hard is it?

These must be the retardedest sites there are and those who make it through the application get a plus in a little notebook. Check - we're keeping this one, says a committee, dressed in white and hidden behind the glass wall.

Why doesn't my network never fail when I'm paying bills or when I'm getting bothered by someone on the chat?! It only drops dead all of a sudden when I'm writing a paper, uploading some files or - like now - in the middle of a job application.

I lost my nerves three times, completely and utterly pissed off by the whole situation that's going on. No job pisses me off, but looking for one definitely doesn't make me feel any better.

Fuck you and your fricken web site!

And if I don't get a job because of this post, so be it!

Fuck you!

Sunday, September 25, 2011

Kung fu

If I were to be reborn as someone else, in another time, in another world and in another reality, I would definitely be a kung fu master. I'd be a horrible student at first, I'd be lazy and I'd avoid all conflict, but in the end, I'd be doing some serious ass whooping. I wouldn't have a choice, since I'd have to defend my life, my family and, ultimately, my honour.

I just love dreaming kung fu stuff. I gotta say that I love dreaming isn't a sentence you'd often hear from me, probably because I've been having nightmares for years now and every time I lay my head I can only hope this one won't cause me a mild stroke in my sleep.

But dreaming kung fu style [which I obviously can't find another name for] is seriously enthralling. I have a feeling that I have a smile on my face, even if I'm in a deadly dangerous situation in my sleep.

It's interesting that I'm very keen in my dreams. Very poignant, agile and sly - none of which I am in my boring, real life. This time I'm a family guys and from as much as I can figure out (since there's usually more than one dream entwined in my head), I'm sort of a family guy, dealing with heritage stuff - armours on the wall and all. Or maybe it's just the time.

I'm in my house and there's a couple of people around me. Members of my family, but also some staff which obviously makes the house look the way it does. Cozy, but kind of dark, with green popping out of every corner, making my study look like a fostered little jungle.

There's someone at the door and I find myself in the hallway. I don't know why (since I have staff to do it), but I'm that nice and I just keep talking to the weird-looking guy standing in front of me. He's asking for something and I'm all super nice about it (just the way that I am...), but the others have this terrified look on their faces.

I seem not to be bothered by it and go for my study to pick up whatever this guy was looking for. As I'm turning my back towards the whole bunch in the hallway and leaving, there's a whole swap mission going on in there. As if it were a theatre and the whole stage had to be changed for the short period that the curtain is down. Or by the time I return.

The gut feeling that I posses in my real life is obviously left out in my dream because I'm quite nonchalant about the whole story and I'm not even bothered a bit that someone came to my home to assassin me and most probably everything I care for. Even the armours on the wall.

To my own surprise, I end up with some giant chop sticks (and a bunch of them) and squat behind a pretty bush palm tree. It's in the corner of my study, so I couldn't be seen from the outside, even though there's a whole glass wall opening up towards to (again, very green) garden.

Maybe it's the drama or maybe it's just me, but the uninvited guest didn't prefer the common way to enter my study (meaning the doors), but came in with a crash, breaking the whole glass construction which used to separate the inner from the outer jungle.

So there we are, two (obviously) übercool kung fu guys, starting a fight with giant chopsticks about something that no one really knows about. Probably something that we heard about from our grandparents' neighbours' herbalist or whatever, but it seems to be very important, because there's a bunch of chopsticks in my hands and I'm all up for a fight.

Having as much bad luck in my life as I do (I'm just an Oh, bollocks! kind of a guy), this is where I wake up. No Kill-Bill fights, no heads flying around, no revenge on a bad-ass yellow bike - nothing.

The last thing I remember is evicting the members of my household that were, surprisingly, still standing on the door and [more than obviously] enjoying the fight. Maybe it's the era, maybe it's the honour, maybe it's Japan. I don't know.

But it sure as hell would be cool to be a bad-ass kung fu master!

Here's a photo that has nothing to do with the story, but has chopsticks in it.

Saturday, September 24, 2011

A dream house

What a dream house, huh? Almost like the dream house. It's very close, if you ask me.

A place you can call home. Finally. After decades of torture by the family, room mates, noisy neighbours, loud traffic, crazy quarter and, last but not the least, a bad vibe.

I passed by this house on my way to the-little-guy-I'm-tutoring's house and not for the first time. Maybe it's the seasons and maybe it's me, but I've never noticed this house before.

Quite weird actually, since I'm usually the one to scan the surroundings. Maybe it's my affection towards the world (not) and maybe it's my obsession of having to know where I am and where the nearest exit is.

So, I was passing there the other day - again - but this time noticing the house almost devoured by ivy, standing there, in the middle of the street. It's located quite awkwardly, at the top of a dead-end street, but turned completely towards the street, the open space and a tiny green patch across the street.

It's a fancy neighbourhood, but I haven't even gone there much in the last ten or so years. Maybe it's because I went to school there and it kind of reminded me of the bad stuff more than it made me go visit it and recall the few non-painful memories I have of that place.

This was another memory in creation and I'm still not sure whether it's a good one or a bad one.

As I lifted my head as I was about to climb the last couple of stairs that take me upwards through the part, I saw this lovely house and found myself standing in the street, staring at the house. To any passer-by it would seem as if I were planning to rob the house and therefore scanning the windows, the gates and the surroundings.

I was simply bedazzled by it. There was a weird moment of silence and, although I could see a woman passing behind me, walking her dog, there wasn't a sound to be heard. I felt like I was floating in space, together with the house, the opened window that was uncovering the insides of the house and the ivy that would eventually pretty much eat up the whole house if it were unattended.

I somehow felt like a character in one of those movies, where a girl and a guy start a family, search for a new home and then park inside of a house with a for-sale sigh, imagining their life, their kids and their future in it.

There was no for-sale sign, but I still saw a film roll in front of my eyes. I saw myself on the terrace on the eastern side of the house, chilling in a wicker chair, enjoying the cool shade and waiting for a couple of my friends to drop by for a cozy hang out.

The grin on my face suddenly gets clouded over by a horrible thought - will I ever have this? Is it possible that I could get my hands on a place like this? And for what cost - a thirty-year loan from the bank - or worse?

Will I spend the rest of my life trying to overloud my neighbours and outspeak my family? The idea of an eternal housing agony pops the bubble and I'm back in the middle of the street, cars driving by, people walking past, the world still going round, faster than ever.

I tilt my head, take out my iPod and hope to save the image as it was in my head and not as it is to anyone standing in front of it.

I was there and I was happy, even if it was only in my head and it only lasted a short minute.

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Sushi time

So, I'm going to a Japanese restaurant tomorrow.

People living in big cities and, well, not here might find this sentence not so much far from the ordinary, but living in a crap city like this, you don't get the chance to go to a foreign restaurant and often as you'd like.

First of all, the choice is miserable. Italian boils down to pizza places, Mexican gets you down to two overprices mess-hall-looking cafeterias and Chinese is, well, Chinese.

The most exotic you can get is Indian and Japanese, first of them being way overprices for a bowl of rice and overcooked vegetables and the other one turned into an überfancy penthouse lounge bar in a skyscraper at the central square.

The choice is, as you can notice, crap.

Nevertheless, there's a new restaurant called 花札 or Hanafuda, meaning something like flower cards or floral playing cards. I don't see the point, but I guess it's just me.

We've booked a table (which sounds really ridiculous, because I rarely eat out) and we'll see what the food's like. Luckily, they're having some special freshly-opened-place menus, so I'm hoping I won't have to get a loan from the bank to pay for the food.

It's been ages since I've had some umi - too long, if I might add. I think it was in Stockholm back in 2004. Geez, I really gotta move. Anyway, some midori and shoyu and I'll be happy.

Believe it or not, this is the peak of my day. Go figure.

Edit: Japanese delight postponed. Meh.

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

I need a job to be able to party.

It must be one of those retarded paradoxes like Once one reaches nirvana, one is ready to cross over or One must look into oneself to fully see others or One must have nothing to gain everything.

Without a job I'm broke. Without a job I've got time to party. Without a job I don't have money to party. With a job I don't have the time to party.

With a job I don't have the will to do anything except shut down the blinds and turn up the music, so that I don't hear or see anything from the outside world.

Which brings me to the conclusion that I need a job to get money to make it work somehow and, finally, party. So, I need a job that doesn't involve people, that doesn't involve me sitting in an office all day long and which pays decent enough to be able to life off.

I don't need much really. I'm not into stuff and clothes and so. I like to get myself a little something from time to time, but when people ask me what I'd like (like my siblings or someone), I usually have no idea. Now that I think of it, I'm not sure whether it's good or bad.

In any case, the job search is on. I'm going global and I'm hoping I won't have to get out of my flat.

No people, no public transportation, no hassle. And I'll do anything.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

101 Words

When I was a kid, I was fascinated by the centrifugal force, space travel and the way microwaves work. Now I'm enthralled by an afternoon off, a bus that arrives on time and a green light right when I'm about to cross.

In the past I was only looking into the future; towards what I was going to do, what I was going to achieve and the paths I was going to take. Now I'm only looking backwards; craving the past moments and the memories that put a grin on my face.

Does it have to be like this, Murphy?

Thursday, September 8, 2011

My bed (as weird as it sounds)

There is rarely a more soothing feeling than laying down in one own's bed. Even as I wanted to type this up, I had trouble getting out of it, but it's a good thing I did, since I probably wouldn't remember it tomorrow morning.

I don't know why it's like that, but there was a time when my bed was the most comfort I'd get. Maybe I'm just not that much into affection, or I haven't lived with someone long enough. But the cozy feeling I get once my head touches the sheets is simply beyond anything that has happened that day.

Sometimes, when I'm having a bad day, the only comfort I'm aiming for is my bed. I find myself jumping up my street, knowing that I'll be in the warm, fuzzy and soothing lap of my world.

Usually when I'm very drunk. Or frozen. Or both.

The bed's nothing special. IKEA style, make-it-yourself and all that crap. Like that's possible. I can't say it was easy putting it together, but I'm glad I got it. The mattress is not one of those you see advertized by blond moms with gigantic grins. The wooden skeleton had probably been recycled five times already and carries more of a packaging smell than the actual wood.

The good thing is it's wide. 160 centimeters, although I was aiming for 180. That would've been fun, since it would probably take at least a third of the usable space in my squalor. 160 will simply have to do.

The mattress is already starting to wear off, keeping in mind that I sit on its upper part most of the time - including now, as I'm typing this. The quilt is thin but warm, causing both fuzzy and goose-bumpy feelings once pulled over my body. Especially since I tend to go mummy style, especially during the winter.

Mmm, I'm almost looking forward to it. But I'm not.

I should probably work on getting a fresh set of linen, pillow cases and whatever comes along, but since I've spent most of my life sleeping pillowless, I kind of put it aside every time I think of it.

The last pillow I owned was tossed into the trash a long time ago. I got it from my sister and I remember it had the Melmac-born Alf on it. Ultra thin as it was, it didn't take long for it to wear down, so it was only a matter of time when it would go beyond the reach of recognition.

As it has. I digress.

Now that I've written this, I have no idea why I even got up from the coziness that I had already dived into. I might as well just dive back in.

Edit: I woke up with a stiff neck. Go figure.

Coastline Comeback

I was so eager to write a new post now that I'm back from the coast. There was a story to be told as I was sitting in the car, trying to stay awake on my way home.

And what I come to is a new interface. I'm never sure whether I dislike it or not. But I surely can't write now...


Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...