A Serious Lack Of Motivation

Am I bothered though?


No.


I am not. I am quite simply unbothered and totally disengaged. 


My interview yesterday was a complete waste of everyone's time. They had no set questions, were not writing any notes and just talked the WHOLE time. I have never experienced an interview like it at all.  I wonder why I even bothered to brush my hair or wash for it. Because the interview panel had not. No-one even admired my lipstick. They looked really unkempt and dirty.I decided that they have no idea what they are looking for and were just sort of hoping for a disneyesque lightening bolt moment; when they find their prince/princess small cute animals will appear and everyone would have burst into song. Needless to say this did not happen when I was in the room. Thank god as I would have killed the animals. 


 So screw that. I don't want it even if I am offered it. 


Which is lucky as I had an epiphany of sorts on my way to the interview which went along the lines of "I have already lived in London for 4 or so years and this commuting business is actually well, quite distressing. I want to be able to walk to work and to be able to walk to see my friends, not traipse around on tubes for up to 3 hours a day, wondering if my pits smell and when I can next get off and buy some pocket deodorant" 


Consequently I am looking for jobs nearer home. We shall see how this works out.


In Other News...

• Mother has abandoned me for a week.
• I have spent the day listening and singing along to Prince Royce, whilst trying to dance the bachata. I have failed miserably on both counts; mostly because my ability to rap and speak Spanish is pretty lame and dancing the bachata alone is pretty weird. Funny though.
• I did not work Apple Bottom Jeans into my interview, but as they were talking so much I just sung it in my head. 
• Each time I attempt to locate my future ex-husband I fail. But Nan likes the visits to her care home which are a by-product of this completely futile infatuation. 

Cameron, Clegg, Cuts and Campaigns

The Current Campaign of My Life
In the last couple of days, a few very unfortunate things have happened (this is since Team Win of the pub quiz on Wednesday night). Consequently  I am in the process of starting a campaign or at the very least trying to find a campaign that I feel an affinity with relating to the cause  that has got my goat = My Nan, she is 91.


What has happened?
Quite simply my dear old Nan's nursing home is shutting down. We found out thanks to The Great British postal system on Thursday, a whole week after the letter was sent.  It is shutting down due to financial reasons. I blame the following people - Cameron, Clegg, The Bank of England, My Local Authority et al. 


My Rhino
A long with a few honoured friends another love of my life is probably my Nan. I am not ashamed to admit this. She is great. A total living legend. Everyone who knows my Nan can not help but love her. She is amazing for the following reasons;

• She never really learnt to cook anything but rock cakes, and these were always a truly teeth splitting exercise;
• She will respond to all her nicknames with a wink and a giggle; Rhino, Dinosaur, Noonle, Moan, Gorgeous, Sexbomb, Cheekytots, Rachel/Bruno (names given to her by Granddad in preference of her actual name - he did not like it, but married her TWICE in spite of this, they divorced once you see);
• She worked until she was in her 80s. I REPEAT SHE WORKED UNTIL SHE WAS IN HER 80s;
• She would cycle everywhere until her mid 70s when a little unwelcome guest called cancer decided to host itself in her stomach. She won, it got evicted, but she stopped cycling;
• She would in her 80s come and visit me at university. She would down pints of guiness, wacth the rugby and the grand prix with my housemates, come to the union, have a dance and do a few shots of aftershock with us. She could out drink us. The wild thing;
• She has since the age of about 13 had a pint of guiness everyday, without fail;
• Again since the age of 13 she has used vinegar for everything - to wash her hair, brush her teeth, moisturise, clean the house, feed her family, clean wounds everything;
• Until about 86 she would still dance on tables at family events;
• She still thinks there is someone "mug enough" to marry and impregnate me.

I really could go on about her forever. This list does not do the Old Rhino any justice at all. But rest assured if you met her you would LOVE her. Absolutely LOVE her.


Visiting Time: The Pimp Daddy Game
When I go and see my Nan my heart always sinks a little bit. She has dementia, so is not as "on it and as all over it" as she once was. But we always have a laugh. Generally we take her into a family room and then like chavs on a bus play out some 'choons for her on our iphones/pods. I got caught the other day singing outrageously and dancing provocatively towards her with tinsel as a feather boaesque prop whilst my parents were having some sort  of snore of a conversation in the corner (they are divorced), before they realised the floor show had started. 


Dad rolls his eyes and sighs "Please explain to me what our 30 something year old daughter is doing to Nan right now?"


Mum leans forwards pats him on the knees and laughs "Oh, H, it is fine. Mum likes this game, they call it the Pimp Daddy Game,because they think it sounds funny, ruddy idiots, you are lucky your other two kids aren't here with the walking stick and hat, that is when it can get out of control!".


Dad takes a sip of his over brewed tea and splutters "Pimp Daddy Game? What the hell is wrong with you lot? She is 91 show some respect."


I continue to gyrate around the room with the tinsel whilst playing "Crazy in Love" out of my ipod. Nan loves that track, it reminds her of my 21st birthday. She made some great shapes that day. She is repeating/squealing the lyrics "Uh oh uh oh uh oh" and clapping off beat.


"Anyway H, she is 29 and she is 91, they are both adults and if they want to play this stupid game, then I can't stop them. You know what they are like."


Dad then drops his tea on the floor. Nan points and laughs at him. Mum stands up and starts dancing with me. Nan is attempting to slap her thigh like a panto character in excitement. Dad looks upset.I am not sure if he is disturbed or feeling left out...  


And then, out of no where, he leaps out of his chair and starts shaking his thing like it is 1977 and D.I.S.C.O is back in the room. 


We continue in this dance frenzy for about 6-7 minutes, when my mum suddenly sits down and starts acting all normally. Me and dad continue. I then sit down. Dad is then funking out all over the room by himself for about 30 seconds when he realises why me and mum have sat down. The care home staff are in the doorway laughing their heads off with a few other residents. 


I remember thinking to myself at that moment, this is not the first time I have been caught dancing like a  dick for my nan in here and it won't be the last. The thing is, after getting that letter, it probably is. 

What now?

Since that visit and the letterofdoom I have been writing to all manner of people and visiting different care homes. It seems like this could be about to get complicated. They want to shove her to the back of the list and reassess her finances, there was no mention of reassessing her health. Just how much money she has in her pension pot. Fuck that, the woman has health needs, which unfortunately as a family we are not able to support her with adequately otherwise she would still be with us. 

 I have also been doing a lot of research about the care home crisis in this country. I feel a bit embarrassed and ashamed that I had not realised how bad it was. Normally, as I was teaching I was always primarily concerned with resources and funding at work, not anything to do with my family. Thankfully free time has allowed a change of course. 

I am truly disgusted at how this whole situation has been handled by the home and everyone connected with it. It is really very upsetting. She is 91. She worked until her 80s. She is a totally lovely little old lady. And just before Christmas they are telling her to leave her home of two and a half years. It makes me so sad. It is so cold.

I really hope that I can do something beyond dancing around the care home to make this situation better for my nan and other people in a similar situation. IT IS UNACCEPTABLE.

The following articles/discussions have proved a good basis for me to get a better grip of what the situation in the country is, have a read:

• Southern Cross Scandal 
• Protect Those In Home Care
• Human Rights and The Elderly 

In other news...

I am still of course still learning to rap (nan loved my reworked version of "Apple Bottom Jeans") and applying for jobs.

Key Skillz

Softcore or Hardcore?
The past few days have been spent attempting to tweak my C.V in a bid to manipulate it into something beyond fantastic and closer to mind blowing. I now have a range of C.Vs; professional, academic, low-skilled, high-skilled and so on and so forth. I have done this so I am more marketable across a range of jobs. Any H.R person worth their weight in bullshit I am sure will quickly identify the hybridity of templates I have used. I decided it was best to ask for C.V advice through the means of twitter, just to check I had not made too many fundamental errors, and I got back the following (actually very useful) links;

• The lovely people at Target Jobs UK http://targetjobs.co.uk/careers-advice/applications-and-cvs
• The equally lovely people at Guardian Jobs http://jobs.guardian.co.uk/cv-advice/
• And the Monstrous people (joke, please laugh) at Monster Careers http://career-advice.monster.co.uk/cvs-applications/cv-advice/the-worst-cv-mistake-ever/article.aspx
• Further kudos goes to the exceptional help and advice I got from Epilepsy Action who explained to me very clearly that I can still apply for jobs even when they ask for a driving licence (if you are epileptic and have frequent seizures you can not drive). As I was in the same job for 3 years and got diagnosed whilst in my last job I never worried about it, but it has put me off applying for particular jobs in recent weeks when they say "Full Clean Driving Licence". More information about that can be found here http://www.epilepsy.org.uk/info/equality/where-equality-act-can-help/employment .

Details over. 


Now one of the things I have been examining and thinking about are my skills. What skills do I have? Do I have any skills whatsoever? Are they 'soft' skills or are they 'hard' skills are they even key skills? I really still have no idea. But I compiled a list of sorts and came up with the following;

• Excellent communication skills, both written and spoken =I suffer from both writers and verbal diarrhoea.
•  The ability to make complex issues clear and simple =because I am quite simple I go to great lengths to find explanations of things (not Wikipedia even, more like CBEEBIES) which are exceptionally visual and basic so I can understand them and then regurgitate it for someone else.
• Good knowledge and understanding of current educational issues = I am former teacher you know. I know who Gove is.
• Specialist knowledge related to Sociology and Educational Policy = the degree.
• Good organisational and forward planning skills = I can set my alarm and I can check my facebook events on a regular basis if I choose too. I don't.
• Exceptionally competent IT Skills = I can turn a computer on and surf the net. BANG!
• Knitting, Hula-hooping, dancing, Spanish, harmonica, uke, drawing, writing = mediocre and fad like hobbies I have.

So after making this list ,I was faced with a sad truth. I have nothing out of the ordinary or exceptional to offer anyone. I don't even have enthusiasm. But I do have my precious lackofshame. So, in knowledge of my lackofshame and my ability to present in front of people. I have decided to add something new to my repertoire of disappointing skills:

 I am going to learn to rap. This is not going to be like my aforementioned fad hobbies. I am going to do this with a purpose. 

For what fucking  rapping purpose?
I have come across two rapping teachers in my life. One was my primary school teacher, who taught me to rap my times tables, she was aided by a terrible video with a fake Madonna lookalike. Thanks to her and the fake Madonna with no conical boobs I still know my two times table. The other teacher I came across was in Central America, she was a Christian,who liked Christian Rap. She was also a maths teacher and she would rap about maths to the kids. Now this is where my advantage lies; I am a sex and drugs and rock 'n' roll teacher. So I am going to rap about that.Dangerous.But there is plenty of workable material out there for me to use. You must remember I am also the idiot who in an interview lesson behaved like a dog and took 20 bananas into another one. So in light of my lack of skills I need to do something to come across as enthusiastic and dedicated. When I get offered my next interview, my aim, and this is serious, is for me to work a rap verse into it.  


I think the advantage of having rapping as a skill is quite clear;

• It can demonstrate my personality and confidence.
• I will be able to highlight my poor humour.
• By composing my own raps I will be able to show that I am both literate and culturally astute (as in I am down with the kids).

I have started this task with gusto by attempting to learn the following raps;

• Apple Bottom Jeans by T-Pain
• Get Ur Freak On by Missy Elliot

Neither are particularly fast and they both have very recognisable backing tracks, so if I rework the lyrics to suit the purpose of an interview I think it could go down quite well. 

In other news

• I never made it to the beautician.
• I found my dog reading from the laptop today, ironically it was on a page about dogs on-line. He was pawing at the screen and the keyboard.