Tito Jackson.

This is odd - I'm blogging about the Jackson clan - not something I ever thought I would blog about; the Jackson's, (be it Michael, The Jackson Five or, any other incarnation), are not a subject that I am interested in. I will admit that Michael Jackson has done some good songs but, on the whole, he does not interest me, worry me, yes but I don't think that's all his fault, not with the upbringing and life he has lead.

Anyway...

Tito Jackson. I was not that familiar with him until a programme I watched, (which was on channel four last Thursday night), called 'The Jackson's Are Coming'. It was about Tito Jackson and some of the other Jackson clan, moving to Devon yes, Devon in the U.K. On first thought it might strike you as a bizarre idea as it did me, but having watched it I can understand why Tito Jackson thought that it might have been a good idea.

The Jackson's are not your average, normal family but that is not because they don't want to be. The world looks at Michael Jackson who, without doubt, has 'problems' and the entire Jackson clan is judged by him. A mistake as they are NOT all Michael. Tito Jackson was the guitar player in the Jackson Five, since then he has attempted to have a normal life. Like anyone, he has had to deal with the downers of life, (his e-wife was murdered by her boyfriend), and has endeavoured to find some type of normality. He is an intelligent, thoughtful and caring person who clings onto his privacy yet found himself in a strange situation that this programme followers.

Matt Fiddes, a friend of the Jackson family for years, a bodyguard to Michael in the past, (stemming from the fact he's a martial arts expert and friend of Uri Geller), is a Devon lad. Members of the Jackson clan have stayed with them and somehow, the idea was born that Devon would be a place where Tito and others of the clan could find a peaceful, normal life something that Los Angeles, (there usual home), does not give them. With paparazzi at their gate, helicopters hoovering over their garden I can understand why, a small town in Devon might be appealing.

We presume that all the Jackson's want attention from the media, from us, from the world but Tito and his dear old mum, sure as hell don't. It is unclear who presented the notion that Devon could be a sanctuary from public intrusion, I have a feeling it was Matt Fiddes, I say this because he does not turn out to be the trusted friend Tito believed him to be. To cut a long story short, Fiddes betrays them wanting to use Tito and the Jackson's for his own means.

I found myself feeling desperately sorry for Tito Jackson, he is a man I found myself liking, sympathise with and wishing that he could escape the media and public intrusion. I wanted him to hit Matt Fiddes for his betrayal but ended up admiring him for not doing so instead, he was a model of professionalism and good sense. Plainly the man has been betrayed before.

It was a fascinating programme, an insight into a family who, unfortunately, can never really be 'normal' but that is not their fault. Generally speaking, the Jackson are, at heart, like any other family, yes there's the whole Michael thing but the rest of them just want to get on with living.

I wish Tito and his family well; I do hope that they do manage 'normal' but I fear that a combination of the media, the public and the on-going strange goings on in Michael Jackson's life will never allow that.

That's Another Fine Mess You Got Me Into!

After a bad night of ineffective sleep, I woke with a odd calmness - didn't I have a interview to attend? - yes I did - so, why calm? - well, who knows, calm I seemed to be if, somewhat sleepy with it.

Had my breakfast, got spruced up, (again), and set off for my second interview of the week. Now, I had read the job advert and was fairly certain I could cover the basics, it was just that I had never been a Clinical Trials Administrator before. I had some notion of what clinical trials entail - the testing of drugs etc, etc.

I arrived in plenty of time, took a seat, (as told), and awaited the interview. To this point I had managed to maintain a calm but something was stirring, the knowledge that after a calm spell the storm hits. I'm over doing it using the word, 'storm', but it does some up what happened next...

I started to get a coughing fit. Yesterday, (after that days events), I had seemed to descend into a case of the coughs, husky voice and slight fever. It had lessened when I got up this morning but, sat there, waiting to me called, it returned. I was greeted by one of my interviewers, to which I responded with a coughing fit - taken to the interview room, asked to sit, coughing fit followed. From then on in things fell apart. The coughing made me self conscious; I could feel my cheeks blazing up with embarrassment and when I was asked if I knew what clinical trials were I responsed with a babbled load of nonsense, (coughs in between), I knew there was no saving this interview.

I walked out of that building feeling like bollocks! The only good thing was that the coughing had suddenly disappeared! Plainly there's no frecking God!

Anyhoo...

On the way home I found myself not heading straight there but, heading for the local cemetery. I should explain that the said cemetery is one of my favourite places. Cemeteries, generally, are places I like; peaceful and full of life...wildlife that is and, stories. Headstones are great inspirations for imagining the lives of people. My local cemetery has the added bonus of a old section - headstones with dates like 1742 that are leaning towards one side with engravings barely readable. It also, has some really old tombs which I lurve.

I took the long walk around the old part of the cemetery, walking slowly so I could take in the peace and calm of the place. Smiled as birds scampered around tree tops, playfully told off trees that dripped dew onto me and delighted at the sight of a grey squirrel sitting on a cemetery bench. I ended up in front of one of the tombs and smiled at the inscription on it's gate, 'I hold the keys to Hell and Hades', impressive to say the least.

By the time I got home, calm had been reinstalled and I absently resigned myself to the fact I wasn't getting that job.

Never miiiiinnnnnd...



Here's some nice music to calllmmmm...

Demon Seed - Nine Inch Nails

and, on that subject...

Demon Seed Trailer, (a good film, watch it, it's grrrreaaat!)

Oh Fuck, I'm Lost!

Preparation, dear reader is a huge percentage of the battle. Yes, in regards to job interviews you need to be prepared so...

Yesterday afternoon I was reading/researching/planning, the same this morning to the point of a nervous, stress level, worthy of a breakdown.

Anyhooo...

Got myself spruced up, gave myself bags of time and then set off...

I got fucking lost!

I had directions, (ain't Google maps a wonder?), and I was half familiar with the route as, along it, is a public, country park, I take my lovely dog Jasper to. Past that, cross the round-a-bout and Bob's ya uncle, as they say. Bollocks was it. No Bob to be seen instead, I ended up in the next fucking county, (it should be noted I live near the border of another county so that does not sound as fucking female as you maybe, sat there, thinking!). The realisation that I was bollocking things up, sent a silent panic through my system so I turned around and tried again.

Now, turning around when you're lost, is not fun - you don't know the road, the area and, you are beginning to start to doubt your ability to drive a car. Bloody hell! So, muggins here heads back and tries to spot the place and....
'bollocks, drove past the sodding...where can I turn...bollocks...here we go, heck there it is...'
...and does a 'Starsky and Hutch' turn into the...er, turning. I'm telling you, loose earth shot into the air. An observer would have either, drove their fist into the air while yelling expletives or, laughed their frecking arse off.

Anyhoo...

Got to the interview with a few minutes to spare.

The interview?

Well, I was sat there trying not to cough, (I've got the start of a chesty one brewing behind my ribs), while a heater was on full blast near me. I tried not to think about how red my face must be, (combination of said heater and near-lost panic), and tried to appear as composed and together as possible, silently, thankful for the glass of water that had been provided.

Now, tomorrow morning I do it again.....ahhhhhhhhhhh!

Woolworths and MFI

The news today, that Woolworths and MFI are facing administration, is somewhat of a shock. Woolworths have had 'problems' before but the fact it will soon be no-more, is very bad news indeed. Apparently over 25,000 people might loose their jobs which is not good news at any point in the year but, with Christmas drawing nearer, it is harsh.

As someone who was made redundant earlier this year and, is struggling to find gainful employment, I feel truly sorry for the staff of Woolworths and MFI - unfortuantly folks, you are about to join a growing number of the unemployed.

Here's a link to the full story at the BBC -
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/business/7751064.stm

Mr Moon Please Don't Leave Me!

And, what did I say about Fridays? (see last post). So, explain why I have an interview Friday morning - at least it's in the morning so I might...MIGHT be able to appreciate the, 'Thank Fuck it's Friday', feeling.

I won't place a bet on it though.

I could moan more but I have a greater worry. My other 'arf recorded the programme, 'Catastrophe',(Monday C4 9pm) yesterday which we watched today. Interesting stuff which made me feel like the underachiever that I am. Imagine it, if only I had applied myself when I was younger, I could be one of those experts that did 'sound-bits' on this programme. I could be examing the night sky or looking for fossils which would be a Hell of a lot better then being a unqualified, unemployed nobody.

Anyhooo...

Well, the programme was very informative and I would recommend it to anyone but there was one point that has left me worried - the moon is moving away from us every year.
Yes, you should be worried too. If it wasn't for the moon you, me, we, would not be here in the first place, (all to do with tides and stuff...), and, it's gradual moving away from us is something that I find VERY concerning. Unfortunately the programme did not share the results of the moons departure; I guess the Sun will burn us to a shrivel first but still, I AM WORRIED!

I am now going to-
a. finish my tea;
b. find a dark corner to hide in and worry I mean I don't need this with two...TWO sodding job interviews this week!!!!!!

Thursday's Child.

What is it about Thursdays? I ask because I have another interview this coming Thursday, which makes that two on the trot. I could have arranged it for this coming Friday instead but, quite frankly, I like Fridays too much. Not that I dislike Thursdays, you understand, it's more that Fridays, (being the end of the week), have now become akin to a significant day to me. They are the doorway to the weekend, which means, I can allow myself a little bit of relief from the stress and guilt of being jobless.

Being jobless is definitely a case of stress and guilt especially, when you have been out of work for over six months, (as I have), and it can be over-whelming at times. The burden of not feeling as if you're 'pulling your weight', can get to the point of near consuming nastiness. As a rule I tend to feel stress and guilt at the drop of a hat, not a fun thing. I also, suffer from self doubt, low self esteem and so little confidence that a hermit would seem to be living the 'high life' in comparison. Sad really but then I do have an excuse, a crippling, (as in emotional not physical), upbringing and, therefore, a tendency for depression. When I think about it it's amazing that I have have been in 'gainful' employment at all. It's also, amazing that I haven't slashed my wrists...cowardliness is a life safer you know.

I Do Not Belong Here.

Well, do you want to know how my job interview went today? As I can't here your response I'll presume that you do.

Firstly, I'll fill you in on the events just prior to it. The nerves, the self-doubt and the fear you know how it goes, (or do you?). I did reasonably well yesterday apart from a slight funny moment in the evening. I actually apologised to my other 'arf, as we were doing the washing up after dinner - apologised for screwing up. He was a bit bemused at what I meant until I explained that I would screw up the interview and let him down. Being the man he is, he told me off and backed that up, with a firm statement that I had not let him down and he did not think I would. He's a gem that man of mine. I got his point though, I was apologising for screwing up something I hadn't screwed up and really that was helping no-one.

I wasn't too bad this morning; read through some info. about the company, wrote down a few more questions and decided that I could do this...yes Sir, this gal can do this shit....yeah! (mentally punches the air with her fist).

I got there early, sat in the car for a few moments to compromise myself, which I needed because I had nearly taken the wrong turning to the place. After a huge intake of breath and a quick mental word to myself I embarked onwards.

As soon as I entered the foray I knew that I was out of my league. In the swish world of top executive brown leather chairs, decor to impress what's-her-name who does that programme about people decor...yes, it was plain to little-miss retail/customer service background that she had entered a realm she had no business being in.

I did my best, honestly I did. I was polite, listened, asked questions, smiled and tried to show a happy, enthusiastic person but fear that my face showed that I knew I did not belong there.

Bollocks!

Anyway, at least my palms weren't sweaty - there's a first...(sad sigh).

Who Me...No Sergeant?!

Who me, what, really, a interview, what Thursday...seriously!!??

Yes, it's true, just when I was about to carry on from my first post the oddest of things happened, I got asked to go for an interview. Not bad considering that I had only e-mailed my C.V. (to said person), that morning, (yesterday), and I am not at all accustomed to getting a reply to such things, (thoughtful pause). Thinking about it, that makes me sound like someone who someone else, would not want to reply to...(another thoughtful pause)...not altogether false.

The last time I was asked to go for an interview was months a go; I had reached the point of surrender after all, just the curtsy of a, 'Dear John' is a novelty in my world, (is that me or is that the way it is now?), so an actually invite to meet is a shock. I am so shocked that I am yet to get nervous about it which is not at all like me. Interviews have a nervous effect upon many people but with me it can be as ridiculous as getting the shakes and sweaty palms, the later of which I don't get any other time. What goes on in a persons system to cause it to come to the conclusion that making the palms sweat is going to help? The human body is equipped with many modes to protect itself but really, what help do sweaty palms provide? None for crying out loud!

Back on point - the interview.

Ironed my outfit so I can, at least, attempt at being presentable. Skipped through the website, (of the company I have the interview at), and taken some notes. Read through the job description, just to check that neither them or me, have had a funny turn in relation to going to this thing. Thought up some appropriate questions. Now, is there anything I've forgotten - probably? Anyway, it's not as if I'm going to get the darn thing which yes, is not the attitude but it certainly is, what experience has taught me so far.

Now, if I could only win the lottery tonight then I wouldn't have to frecking go!



I have to have a yarn about what's happened today in regards to John Sergeant and the whole 'Strictly Come Dancing', bollocks.

I have an important point to make on this matter...wait for it...it's important...
The Strictly judges are told to judge the dancing of the contestants. The public are told to, vote for their favourites. Two different agendas there folks so, logic suggests, two different outcomes will arise. There is no point moaning about the public when you are asking them to do something different from the judges. Unfortunately, this has lead to John Sergeant stepping down from the show which is a shame as he has done nothing wrong. Good spirited, good sportsmanship, good humour and a whole good guy thing has made him the nations favourite and a possible national treasure.

I guess it proves a point, the public might like you but that means nowt in the world of dance!

The Rug Pulled from Beneath Ones Feet.

Earlier on in the year I was made redundant, to be precise, last January so the fact it has taken me until mid November, a painful ten months later, is a clue to how I took the incident. ‘Incident’ is a good word for it. I know thousands of people are made redundant, it happens regularly in the working world, ‘part and parcel’, as they say, BUT I had never been made redundant before this. No, I was a virgin at the whole redundancy business and, I’m telling you, I ain’t fucking in a hurry to repeat it.

We returned to work, after last Christmas, to be sat down and told that the company was fucking up, (my own translation of what was said by the bitch…I mean my old boss), and that people had to be made redundant. The policy was, last in, first out sooo…with a mere five years under my belt….yes a MERE FIVE YEARS, I knew I was for the chop. I mean compared to the life sentence other arseholes, ooops, colleagues, had served I was a newbie! Anyway, a time frame was set in place, meetings organised where those under consideration for the chop had a chance to come up with ideas to save the failing shite of a….to save the business, (ten months and the bitterness still oozes), which I did. Not that that helped me.

Anyway, with the 99.9% certainty I was going to be one of the lambs I started to, tentatively, look for a new job.
The thing is, (here’s some words of wisdom here), life’s shitty parts don’t always register with you until they actually slap you in the face.

The ‘day’ arrived, where we were to be told. I thought I’d be okay but heck, the shock shook me. After five years of service I was, effectively, told to fuck off and kicked on the rubbish dump and left in a state of complete, ‘where’s that rug that was under my feet?’ People, (I’m telling you), redundancy is not a nice thing to happen to a person and this is coming from someone who has been through some shite in her sorry life, (some self made…(slaps self on the side of the head)).

Anyway, I’ll tell more in the next post as I’m getting all angry and need to hit something.