Just a short post this evening to keep my blog up to date as I have not been able to think of a thing to write about since Wednesday.
Well, that’s not exactly true as plenty of food for thought has crossed my mind but the urge to transform it into coherent literature has been absent.
That’s the way I roll. The notion to write, the inner push that comes from deep down within just takes hold of me and I begin to type and word and thought lead me on a journey and occasionally I end up writing something completely different to what I had in mind.
I think that is why I could never write a book. I just like to let the thought process take control and see where I end up. Writing a fictional story is too clinical for my taste. If I could let it all just flood out without thinking too much, just let instinct take over then I could see a career in fiction beckon me. Alas, I don’t seem to have that type of talent.
Of course I could always write non-fiction but that would take research and it could end up a rather droll read which no publishing company would be at all interested in. So it appears writing my blog for pleasure will be as far as my literary career will progress. So be it.
Of course I do have a couple of short stories published on the internet. I have them posted on a website called Booksie if anyone would like to take the time to search them out. They date back years to when I was doing a short story writing course, yet another unfinished project and I thought I may as well put them out there. I would hate to write something reasonably coherent and not have it be seen.
I am a Gemini for anyone interested in Astrology and although I tend to be skeptical of those who read the stars I feel I do have many traits that those born under the Gemini star-sign possess. Either that or I am just reading into it what I want to believe.
Gemini is of course the sign of the twin and I do at times feel I am a bit of a split personality and never more so than when it comes to my writing. I like my work being read but I get embarrassed by it too and balk at times when Linda starts telling people how I like to write lest they search me out and decide that my work is a decrepit and pathetic effort not worthy of note and nothing more than the cringe-worthy scrawling of a literary wannabe. Perhaps that has more to do with self consciousness than any split personality which can be attributed to star-signs.
The week itself has been a run of the mill affair, the fly which landed in the coffee of our supervisor on Friday perhaps a fitting metaphor for life at the “Happiness Factory” but the only real downer was the two hours I spent on the Bar Code Sorter on Thursday which gave me the feeling that pulling my intestines out through my nostrils with a giant hook would be preferable to the mind-numbing, patience shattering experience which I had to endure, watching letter after letter race along rows of conveyor belts, eventually arriving at their destination and slamming into their appropriate stacker with all the force of a test vehicle being thrust into a wall to see how well it crumples.
As I whiled away the the first two hours at work on Friday, mind wandering, life force ebbing, it occurred to me that I should attempt to make 2013 a year of major change, a turning point in my life which I can look back upon with pride in the years which will follow and be able to say, “that is the year fortune favoured me!”.
As a working class man, the lowest point of the food chain in the industrial world, I am doing a menial job every day, bereft of any real required skill, a task which I have often wondered if a trained chimp could perform. As such we are subject to the changing tides of industrial relations practice and are affected by any change in workplace laws and as the country is almost certain to swing to the right at the next election with the probable Prime Minister a steely conservative already pandering to business interests while still in opposition, promising to cut red tape and make industry more productive, the likely victims of this right wing purge are people like me who have to rely on award wages to survive. If the Workchoices legislation enacted by the last conservative government of Australia are anything to go by, then the writing is on the wall for pitiful workers in establishments such as the one where I work.
Now I certainly don’t mean to bring politics into my blog. I don’t care who a person votes for but it needs to be said unless you walk a mile in another person’s shoes then you really don’t know what you are talking about when discussing their life. So it is with those who believe wages should be cut and unions brought into line and perhaps abolished. Unless you have worked for a corporation similar to the one I do and suffered the pitiful culture enacted by those who run the place then you have no right to place an opinion on what should happen to those like me and the institutions we join to protect ourselves.
So the feeling which enveloped me on Friday was one that enticed me to look out for myself in 2013, to improve my lot, to sail my ship away from the prevailing winds of changing industrial relations laws and to find shelter in a safer harbour where the evil of those who wish to cut my rights and conditions without empathy cannot reach.
I am also planning a trip to Europe. I have been to the United Kingdom once before, many years ago and went to Turkey a few years later but the continent has been in my sights and mind for years since then and I am going to bite the bullet next year and go. Go now while I can for who knows what the future may hold.
So 2013 is looking full and I only hope that I can act on all I wish and need to do.
Tomorrow we begin the descent to Christmas, the last month of the year will begin it’s slow disintegration and the effort and performance of we who inhabit the lowliest rungs in the communications industry will increase as we attempt to meet our December 25 deadline. I’m sure we will survive.
So to all of you out there on this fine Sunday evening, wherever you may be, I hope you are enjoying life and looking forward to the coming week with a sense of hope.
Take care.
Well, that’s not exactly true as plenty of food for thought has crossed my mind but the urge to transform it into coherent literature has been absent.
That’s the way I roll. The notion to write, the inner push that comes from deep down within just takes hold of me and I begin to type and word and thought lead me on a journey and occasionally I end up writing something completely different to what I had in mind.
I think that is why I could never write a book. I just like to let the thought process take control and see where I end up. Writing a fictional story is too clinical for my taste. If I could let it all just flood out without thinking too much, just let instinct take over then I could see a career in fiction beckon me. Alas, I don’t seem to have that type of talent.
Of course I could always write non-fiction but that would take research and it could end up a rather droll read which no publishing company would be at all interested in. So it appears writing my blog for pleasure will be as far as my literary career will progress. So be it.
Of course I do have a couple of short stories published on the internet. I have them posted on a website called Booksie if anyone would like to take the time to search them out. They date back years to when I was doing a short story writing course, yet another unfinished project and I thought I may as well put them out there. I would hate to write something reasonably coherent and not have it be seen.
I am a Gemini for anyone interested in Astrology and although I tend to be skeptical of those who read the stars I feel I do have many traits that those born under the Gemini star-sign possess. Either that or I am just reading into it what I want to believe.
Gemini is of course the sign of the twin and I do at times feel I am a bit of a split personality and never more so than when it comes to my writing. I like my work being read but I get embarrassed by it too and balk at times when Linda starts telling people how I like to write lest they search me out and decide that my work is a decrepit and pathetic effort not worthy of note and nothing more than the cringe-worthy scrawling of a literary wannabe. Perhaps that has more to do with self consciousness than any split personality which can be attributed to star-signs.
The week itself has been a run of the mill affair, the fly which landed in the coffee of our supervisor on Friday perhaps a fitting metaphor for life at the “Happiness Factory” but the only real downer was the two hours I spent on the Bar Code Sorter on Thursday which gave me the feeling that pulling my intestines out through my nostrils with a giant hook would be preferable to the mind-numbing, patience shattering experience which I had to endure, watching letter after letter race along rows of conveyor belts, eventually arriving at their destination and slamming into their appropriate stacker with all the force of a test vehicle being thrust into a wall to see how well it crumples.
As I whiled away the the first two hours at work on Friday, mind wandering, life force ebbing, it occurred to me that I should attempt to make 2013 a year of major change, a turning point in my life which I can look back upon with pride in the years which will follow and be able to say, “that is the year fortune favoured me!”.
As a working class man, the lowest point of the food chain in the industrial world, I am doing a menial job every day, bereft of any real required skill, a task which I have often wondered if a trained chimp could perform. As such we are subject to the changing tides of industrial relations practice and are affected by any change in workplace laws and as the country is almost certain to swing to the right at the next election with the probable Prime Minister a steely conservative already pandering to business interests while still in opposition, promising to cut red tape and make industry more productive, the likely victims of this right wing purge are people like me who have to rely on award wages to survive. If the Workchoices legislation enacted by the last conservative government of Australia are anything to go by, then the writing is on the wall for pitiful workers in establishments such as the one where I work.
Now I certainly don’t mean to bring politics into my blog. I don’t care who a person votes for but it needs to be said unless you walk a mile in another person’s shoes then you really don’t know what you are talking about when discussing their life. So it is with those who believe wages should be cut and unions brought into line and perhaps abolished. Unless you have worked for a corporation similar to the one I do and suffered the pitiful culture enacted by those who run the place then you have no right to place an opinion on what should happen to those like me and the institutions we join to protect ourselves.
So the feeling which enveloped me on Friday was one that enticed me to look out for myself in 2013, to improve my lot, to sail my ship away from the prevailing winds of changing industrial relations laws and to find shelter in a safer harbour where the evil of those who wish to cut my rights and conditions without empathy cannot reach.
I am also planning a trip to Europe. I have been to the United Kingdom once before, many years ago and went to Turkey a few years later but the continent has been in my sights and mind for years since then and I am going to bite the bullet next year and go. Go now while I can for who knows what the future may hold.
So 2013 is looking full and I only hope that I can act on all I wish and need to do.
Tomorrow we begin the descent to Christmas, the last month of the year will begin it’s slow disintegration and the effort and performance of we who inhabit the lowliest rungs in the communications industry will increase as we attempt to meet our December 25 deadline. I’m sure we will survive.
So to all of you out there on this fine Sunday evening, wherever you may be, I hope you are enjoying life and looking forward to the coming week with a sense of hope.
Take care.
Strange Notations From a Laborious Life 