| 8:37p |
Memoirs of a Gypsygirl
Hello, friends! I am alive! Golly, ten days away from cyberspace is enough to make a modern girl feel non-existent. I mean, if you type your name into Google and nothing comes up, does that mean that you don't exist? Hmmm...very exi-something-alist, no? Mind you, if I type my real name into Google (yeah, that's right smartypants, my real surname ISN'T Gypsygirl), nothing comes up. But, of course, I will always have YOU, my loyal readers, and that makes me feel loads better.
Well. What can a girl report on if she's been away for ten days? If I was a spunky female singer-songwriter, then I'd write a natty little tune about it...oh, that's right, ol' Missy Higgins has already done it. Damn it!
So. It is my last day of work tomorrow. This past week has been hectic- who would have known that leaving a job would cause so much chaos? I feel like I've been cleaning up after myself after a year-long mud fight. There's so many things to pack away or get rid of- unruly files, teabags, notes scribbled that shouldn't have been scribbled at all (eg. what I REALLY thought about all of those pyjama designs). I have moved on from being crazy-jealous of the new girl to becoming good, kindred spirits with her. She actually took me out to lunch today to say 'thank you' for teaching her stuff. Wow! It's funny...now that I've worked with her, I am sad that we can't work together. But, if I wasn't leaving, then I wouldn't have met her at all. Ironic, huh? It's been really weird to know that I am leaving my job. A lot of people at work have been saying that they will miss me. And I feel a bit guilty, because I am not sad to leave. Today, I have left the guilts behind, and I am very glad that tomorrow is my last day! Even though this was my last week, the end still seemed too far away. There's only so many mornings that you can spend half-conscious on an hour-long bus ride to the city.
At the moment, I have stopped looking for jobs. The whole Internet job-finding thing was spinning me out. I mean, there are jobs being posted up there TWENTY-FOUR HOURS A DAY! After I apply for a job, I spent my time obsessing about all of the thousands of young jobhunters who could have emailed their application ONE MINUTE before me. The aforementioned young jobhunter would then have impressed the employer SO MUCH that the employer would then think, "Screw this lazy Carla Gypsygirl, who sends late emails! I am going to go and hire Jane Jobhunter instead!" As you may recall, I went for a junior photographer job with a magazine publisher. I had a second interview with the photographer, and I left feeling really odd. The photographer told me that I was more talented as a designer, and that I should instead wait for a design position to come up. It was strange having someone be so honest with me. It was also a very nice thing to say, and it is hard to believe. So anyway, the editor and I have now agreed that we would like to work together sometime. I just wish that that "sometime" was nowtime.
I am glad that another weekend is coming up, because last weekend was adorable. I took advantage of my last-ever (well, for awhile, anyway) weekly bus/train/ferry ticket, and I caught a ferry with my Geoff to Manly. By the way, readers, did any of you guys ever think that a "ferry" was actually a "fairy" when you were little? I did. So anyway, as per usual, Geoff and I had a tiff. I was all, "Let's stand outside- it's a glorious day!" and he was all, "Are you kidding? It's grey and crummy and my legs are tired!" So, we compromised and spent half the time standing outside on the deck of the ferry, and the other half lounging on the seats inside. Then, of course, I made Geoff have a deep and meaningful about Whether We Are Really Suited. As usual, we both decided, Yes, Except For When It Comes To Ferries. We had Macca's for lunch, which I would normally enjoy. However, the weekend before, I had a bit of a Macca's binge for lunch- two Cheeseburgers, fries and a chocolate thickshake. It was also hard to eat, because where do you look when there are topless girls everywhere, and you are also shouting to your boyfriend, "Eyes to the front! Eyes to the front!" Mind you, Geoff is a very good boy, and I didn't need to shout at him. I only did it to be funny. Anyway, after lunch, we shoved our stuff into one of those nifty beach lockers (highly recommended!) and plunged into the clear blue water. There were lots of big fishies, and Geoff tried to catch them with his bare hands. Then we lay about in the sun, ate gelato and went home in a dizzy, sun-induced haze.
I am a bit scared of the week that is coming up. In many ways, I feel like a spring that has been so tightly wound up. I feel that as soon as this nightmare fashion job is over, I will magically uncoil myself, and return to normal. I picture myself eating late breakfasts in the sunshine, going to the local shopping centre and enjoying myself a lot. But I am also scared that I will become hideously bored and insecure. I keep making rapid, ridiculous decisions. I am currently reading Memoirs of a Geisha, which is FANTASTIC. I have realised that I haven't actually read many books that are set in a non-Western culture. The other day, I decided that it might be cool if I become a geisha. Apparently, while being a geisha is a dying art, there are geisha in Japan who have business degrees and stuff, but also get to wear kimonos and all of that cool makeup. I told Geoff my new career plan on the phone, and he just said, "Okay." He said it in a very normal tone of voice. And I said, "What do you mean, 'OKAY'? I just said that I am going to become a GEISHA! Doesn't that shock you?" But the thing is, I say so many outrageous things all the time, that he is just used to it. Like lately, I have wanted to do the following things: become a model, go away and find myself, go back to working in fashion, go back to working in graphic design, study advertising, sell stuff at markets...you know, the list just goes on forever. Anyway, even though I don't know how to pronounce geisha (Gaysha? Geesha? Guysha?), I kept telling my friends that I was going to run off to Japan and become one. But then, someone (I forget who), said this rather enlightening thing to me: "Aren't geisha like, you know, PROSTITUTES?" You see, naive little old me (who hasn't finished the novel yet) thought that geisha just played their Japanese guitars and danced around and served tea and sake. I didn't know that they did OTHER stuff. Ooops.
So, the moral of the story is: don't quit your day job. Unless, of course, it SUCKS. Whereupon the moral is this: listen to yourself, but don't go off and become a bloody geisha. Just try and be an extra in the film, instead.
Until later,
Carla Gypsygirl xxx
(NOT Geishagirl) |