Pages

Friday 20 February 2015

Treasure Chest

Those that know me well, know that I'm a very sentimental person. I keep wrappers, hand-written notes, ticket stubs and receipts from things like the snacks I bought from a petrol station on the way out of Cape Town at 4AM while witnessing a drunk girl scream at the staff that her boyfriend was, in fact, not her boyfriend.

Let me get to the reason that I do this. 

When I was like 8 or 9 (maybe older) I would wonder why I couldn't remember everything on a day to day basis. For instance, being able to recall any exact moment from the previous week. Not general happenings, but very specific things. Say I would be brushing my hair and think, “OK, next week at this time I am going to remember this exact moment,” and then I would try and clear my mind and stroke my hair with my brush and try to burn that moment into my mind so I would be able to recall it. 

And of course, because this is a ridiculous notion, I wouldn't remember to remember what I said I would and the next week would go by and I’d get all cross with myself the next time I had one of these existential moments and I'd swear to myself I would remember whatever it was this time. What was most frustrating to me was that I could remember seemingly 'bigger' things such as the taste in my mouth when I hit my head on my desk retrieving my rogue pencil. 

As you are now probably well aware, I am slightly obsessed with capturing moments. Moments, whether huge and important or small and comfortably significant, only live for as long as those moments last and then they become memories, destined to exist only in our minds. Memories are extremely fragile little things that are susceptible to the taint of time and can become warped or, worse yet, forgotten when our minds grow dark. I like to make sure that this won't happen to me.

So my wallet is jam packed with random things and bits of paper that each keep a particular memory alive in my mind every time I look at them. I have items of jewellery that serve the same purpose, as well as books, pens, letters, key rings, shoes and even a pair of plastic googly eyes. I don't hoard things by any means, in fact I function in quite the opposite way, but when it comes time to spring clean or clear out old stuff I no longer use or wear, there are things that have survived many a chuck. These are the the little things that help me remember what matters to me: the precious moments.

Tuesday 10 February 2015

Work for yourself

Today was my first day of work. Like proper, salary-earning work. And so begins my first little jaunt into adulthood.


Cue Ron's incredibly apt depiction of being very much like "Shiiiiiiiiit dude".

Now this is exciting stuff. This is what my education for the past 4 years has been for. To become an employable and functioning member of society with a certain set of skills that someone needs that they will pay me a decent sum of money to do so that I can carry on living and supporting myself and my future family. Right? 

Dude. Nothing terrifies me more than that thought. Let me explain.

Last week I went for 2 interviews for a job at 2 different companies. For the second interview, I was 5 minutes early and I sat waiting for 20 minutes which I didn't mind because these are things that you learn to live with if you're getting desperate. After introductions and taking our seats I was asked about my education and experience. 

Thereafter I produced my portfolio, being a designer, and began to provide examples of my work. I then discovered that these people were actually looking for someone who would do everything other bloody thing under the sun other than what I applied to do. And I was then told, quite saucily, that I was to provide examples of my writing abilities, among other things. 

And then - sweet baby Jesus - this was said to me: 
"You know, if you're really hungry for something you have to work hard for it." 
This coming from someone who did not take 5 minutes to ask me about myself as a person and not as a potential asset, from someone who had not bothered to ask me about my strengths and weaknesses and from someone who had the audacity to make me wait 15 minutes and then rush me during the interview. I just stared at her. If she had bothered to take the slightest interest in me as a human being she would know that I know aaaaaaall about hard work and being hungry.

On the other hand, the first interview that I went to last week was with the company I now work for - a place that wants intelligent human beings who want to grow, not educated drones who require financial sustenance.

What I'm trying to say is, I view this little jaunt into adulthood as another step in an adventure (of which there are many more) and not as a settling down into a predetermined (dare I say) rut. I know that this is not a unique opinion all my own and I'm not the first noodle to figure this out but I felt it needed saying in light of my recent experience. 

I know that I will be my own boss one day - however that comes about. I had a moment now while typing that where I wanted to say "I know I'll work for myself one day" but I didn't say that because I already do and I think that perfectly sums up my thoughts. 

You need to work for yourself because you want to; because you find it enriching; because it's your dream; because it helps others; because it's your friggen purpose - not because that's what your mom and dad said you had to do.

Kbye
x

PS. Before the De Klerks of the world see this and have a conniption, I know that this is written form a position of privilege where one can afford to contemplate what kind of work they would like to do and to what end. And I am checking that at the door.