The Perils Of Moving House

I’ve lived in a fair amount of places. Having been a student and someone with a history of making dreadful mistakes, I’m rarely in the same place for more than a year. Since I began university I’ve lived in nine different houses or flats, with friends, partners and strangers. That’s six years of cardboard boxes. There’s something really exciting about acquiring a new bedroom, a bit like buying a new notebook and staring at the blank pages whilst trying to decide what to write. I hang up pictures and photos, arrange my books in specific orders and usually buy a new duvet. I like new things.

On the other hoof, moving out is probably one of my least favourite experiences (tied with harrowing medical procedures and hurting my back falling down the steps of the Eiffel Tower). It’s the yin and yang of home-making that eventually you need to pack up a materialistic summary of your life and ferry it somewhere else. I hate moving out.

How I Fell Out Love With The iPhone

It had seemed like a big win at the time. It was 2010. I had just started my boring data entry job and it was election day. My housemate and I were worried the Tories were going to win, so on the way home I stopped in at an Orange store and upgraded my Blackberry for an iPhone 3GS. All evening I watched the Alternative Election show and distracted myself with a twitter application and Angry Birds. I connected it to my laptop and named it Murphy. It was love at first sight.

Part of the iPhone’s charm it that it didn’t seem soley for the rich and famous. I signed up for a two year contact for £35 a month (something I wouldn’t dream of doing now but there you go) and the phone was mine. Nowadays, the class-beating accessibility of owning an iPhone has all but worn off.

Five Job Applications That Never Got A Response

Applying for jobs is a long, hard process. On Jobseekers you are required to apply for a minimum of three jobs a week but for anyone who’s really desperate the figure is a lot higher. It’s rarely just enough to send a CV, most websites have long intricate forms that usually take ten or fifteen minutes to fill in. Job seeking generally takes up most of the morning and some of the afternoon.

So it’s especially infuriating when employers never get back to you. With unemployment figures at depressing highs, it’s rare that you will ever get feedback on why you were successful. Generally, it seems that the majority of your applications fall into a black hole or spam folder where nobody ever reads your CV. This must be the answer for being perpetually ignored, right? I applied for some great jobs last year. Jobs that I would be brilliant in, jobs that I saw and thought “I have to work for this company”, jobs that I would describe as my “dream”. But I never got a response. Why, companies, why?

Would You Like Any Salad?

Hello Internet. I got a job. I am working in a cafe. I wear an apron and my morning shifts start at half seven in the morning. On Monday I spent four hours washing pots and didn’t like it, but on Tuesday I made sandwiches and it was very fun. Basically you get to choose what you put in the sandwiches. I made a cajun pepper pate, chorizo, sundried tomatos, rocket and feta cheese sandwich and then ate it for lunch. I am a great sandwich artist.

Guest Interview: Velcro Adams

Welcome to this blog’s First Ever Interview Post! I’ve scoured the world for a writer accomplished and interesting enough to carry the weight of the First Ever Interview on their shoulders and I’ve found quite the character. I caught up with Velcro Adams, this year’s favourite furry prodigy and asked him to type out some answers to the questions I know have all been on your mind.

The Lynx Defect

Every time a Lynx advert comes on the television, part of me dies inside. The part with the boobs and uterus. Is there anything more mainstreamly degrading to women than a Lynx promotion? The not-so-subliminal-message of “use this and women will have sex with you” isn’t a new one, but Lynx throws a middle finger to subtlety with adverts showing women literally falling from the sky. And this is where I get ranty.

Internet Abuse Is Not Acceptable

I was looking through my old Livejournal accounts looking for embarrassing teenage posts to talk about when I found this gem of an entry.

(Really NSFW)

First World Anxieties

It is common to get freaked out by stuff. More than 1 in 10 people in Great Britain are likely to have an anxiety disorder at some stage in their life and 13% of the adult population will develop a phobia of something. It’s easy to feel guilty about it since it’s not like you’ve lived through an earthquake or your town cannot get clean water, but us tricky humans are built with natural defences that make us crazy nervous during situations we find stressful. Here are some examples that are totally normal and not at all weird or anything.

The Office Owl

I got one of those wooden “construct your own” gifts for Christmas. It was an owl. I had a lot of fun making it so I wanted to write a blog about it, but what do you say about a pieced together owl? I did it a bit wrong anyway so the wings are reaching out like it wants a hug. So instead I wrote a story about an owl who works in an office and interspersed the words with pictures from when I put my wooden owl together. Maverick.

Could You Live Off Fifty Pounds A Week?

Fifty quid used to sound like a lot. As a teenager I could create a quality entertainment package of CDs and DVDs out of that money, if I had it. When you’re younger, fifty pounds makes you feel rich.

Nowadays, in adulthood, fifty pounds doesn’t get you very far. For one thing, mum isn’t cooking your meals any more and dad won’t give you a lift to where you want to go. Job Seekers allowance pays £50.95, more if you’re over 25 (as if a 24 year old is any different). A lot of people think that, since unemployed people aren’t contributing, they don’t even deserve that. We live in a world of bank balances, vague withdrawals at the cash point. People expect you to be able to go for a pint or a lunch with them without bankrupting yourself. But could you live on £50 a week?