%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |
For the avoidance of doubt... Yes... I definitely have an opinion... |
|
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Welcome to my Blog!! About me: I'm not really a blogger... But I do like to put the world to rights and you can bet I have an opinion on most things. I'm a little Welsh dragon that left the Land of My Fathers far behind me. I've flown far and wide.... and ended up in the land down under This blog is filled with all the stuff that's going on in my life, and in my head, which can be a little cookey on times, so you have been warned!! And let's not forget my opinions and musing - I have a few of those as well. So pull up a pew, grab a hot, steaming mug of something yummy, and maybe a cake to: Life is always better with cake don't you think. And read... ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** I just starting blogging with the following groups: ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** I also write a Xmas Blog that kicks off 1st December.... "Invalid Item"  ....tag along for elvishness and merriment
|
| Prompt from "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" – “Write the first thing that comes to mind when you think of one of these three smells: spearmint, paint remover, or strong perfume/cologne.” Perfume is supposed, in theory, to be a  pleasant  scent  that’s  attractive  and  enticing  , maybe even a little arousing   . Yet there are times when it is anything but, at least in my opinion and experience, and I am of course talking about those that dose themselves in it so much so that I fear they may be  flammable . So, why do some people insist on wearing strong  perfume/cologne  ? I have NO IDEA! I find it perplexing. Clearly these individual have gone “nose blind” as they seem completely obvious to it.There are days when I step into a meeting room, or other small confined area, and feel completely overwhelmed by the scents assaulting me  . It’s not that I necessarily find the perfumes unpleasant – when used appropriately and in smaller measures – it’s just the shear amount. It’s almost like they’ve bathed in the stuff, which must be detrimental to their health  ;  it gives me headaches . And when you have multiple offenders, these wafts of opposing aromas do little to complement just other. I always know it’s bad when my throat starts tickling and I can “taste” it in the back of my mouth – yuk… There are times when I’ve had to excuse myself in fits of coughing; often complete with streaming eyes – thank goodness for water proof mascara.I understand that perfume/cologne, like most things in life, is a matter of, and expression of, personal taste. I just wish it wasn’t forced down my throat… and nostrils.. |
| Prompt from "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" - School's back in session pretty much everywhere now, so tell us...what were your best and worst subjects when you were a student? Hmm...  school... It feels like a life time ago, which is probably is; it's been eighteen years since I left it. It's interesting to look back and realise how much I've changed, AND how much I've stayed the same. When I was back there, "living it", my best and favourite subjects were largely based on what I was good at and which teachers I liked the most. I was useless at   Design and Technology for example... I hated using the machinery and couldn't get my head around wood work or electronics  . Couple that with my slight accident prone nature and we had a recipe for disaster; or at least several trips to the nurses office - I still have a scar where a soldering iron met my finger during a bout of daydreaming. I found the subject very masculine and boring, and I was by no means a "girly girl". The teacher was rather dry , with a very broad northern accent, which we used to mimic (mean children!!). Would it have been a different story if he'd been more dynamic, and made the syllabus more appealing and broad ranging? Maybe... It certainly would have helped if his voice hadn't sent me to sleep or into a daze each lesson. Looking back, I basically wrote this lesson off. I didn't mind if I was late. Used to glaze over when I got told off for being late. I think I even use to arrange doctor's appointments or guitar lessons to clash. The fact is I'm not the most gifted, hands on, creative person. I'd love to be able to paint or design stuff.... anything... but I can't. I'm not useless. My drawings closely resemble their intended subject, but you won't find any of my work hanging in the Tate gallery or winning the Artprize. Banksy is safe!!I was good at  Sports  - not Olympics good - but I represented my school at interschool meets/competitions. I represented my region at County level for swimming, netball, hockey and athletics; occasionally cross-country. I was even a member of a netball league, playing against teams from the police and alike. Not bad for a 14 years old... When my GCSEs came around it was natural for me to choose Physical Education as a subject. Part physical and part academician, it fitted me perfectly. There was also a lot of emphasis placed on sport at my school, so my abilities gave me a status of sorts. Although I still managed to get singled out and bullied so it wasn't a complete win.My favourite were probably History and English. The teachers were characters. Known throughout the school for their personalities. My English teacher was actually American, and he told the worst, sarcastic, one liners that I still love and smile at; Mr K, "What career do you want Stephanie?" Me, "I'm gonna be a criminal psychologist Sir." Mr K, "Good choice, and if you don't do that you could just do half of it." Me, "What do you mean? Just a psychologist?" Mr K, "Nope a criminal." Me, - rolls eyes...  Mr Banks - History - had a booming voice. He's been known to reduce people to tears  . You did NOT want to get shouted at by him. But if you got on his good side, he was forever in your corner. He taught me the importance of negotiation - mostly on homework deadlines. Overall I guess you could say I was a  studious pupil . The "hard" or "core" subjects appealed to me because they had structure and definitive answers - at least they did at that level of education. WW2 always started when Germany invaded Poland, there's only one answer to the square root of 206116, and magnesium always burns green. At GSCEs we had a stable of core subject we had to take: Maths, English Language, Single Science and a language(I chose French). We could then choose four other subjects to add to of lists; History, Geography, P.E. and Child Development were my choices, with the addition of English Literature as well. Apart from Child Dev and P.E a very dry lot.It was only after I left school - actually education completely - that I began to appreciate some of the other subjects that perhaps were over looked due to beige teaching methods... In fact if I had my time over again the subjects would be quite different. I love to cook and bake so   Cookery would have definitely replaced child dev. P.E would have been replaced by Psychology - something that wasn't available at my school until after I left. And I think I'd have given Design Tech a proper go and tried to match the subject more with my interests and personality; reconditioned lampshades with jam jars and drift wood...On the plus side by school French comes in handy, and isn't too bad, even after all these years. |
| It has been almost eight months since I put pen to paper, or more accurately fingers to keyboard, and attempt to write anything. I knew this year would be life altering, perspective changing, and bring with it challenges I couldn't even begin to imagine; that's what happens when a baby comes along. On 16th March 2016 Theia Everleigh Di Stefano graced and blessed us with her presence. Pink, wriggling and screaming she came into the world via caesarean section and was greeted by a smiling and doting dad, a somewhat overwhelmed and slightly out of it mum, and a theatre full of medical staff. Her arrival marked the end of a very stressful six weeks of hospital confinement. I could finally go home with my husband and see my beautiful furry baby, Indy. Our family was now complete. Recovering from the C-section was/is no easy feat.... I'm still recovering five and a half months on. The day after was surreal: relearning how to walk - I know that may sound silly and over the top, which it probably is, but it's still true; having to be helped up and guide the two foot from the bed to the chair by two other people; feeling proud of managing a shower all on my own, all be it on wobbly legs; and passing the peeing requirements to prove they hadn't inadvertently nicked my bladder during the operation. Within twenty-four hours of Theia taking her first "real" breaths we were sitting at home, at our dinning room table, sipping tea and coffee, and generally feeling a bit stunned by the whole situation. We had our baby girl. We were at home. OMG were we really ready for this.... Too late. The next few weeks were full of postnatal baby check-ups, hospital appointments, and trying desperately not to spin out of control. I had been adamant that I had wanted some time to readjust, just me, Guy, Theia and Indy, much to my mothers annoyance. Guy had even been at loggerheads with my parents over them visiting us three days after arriving home. In the end they didn't visit. I decision I have lived to regret. One month and one day after Theia was born my father passed away, having never seen his granddaughter face to face. My mother had travelled up a week before his death, but he had decided to stay at home. We had planned to travel down to see them, and the rest of the family, the following weekend, but as fate would have it the rest of the family met Theia sooner than expected and not for joyous reasons. While there were reasons why we stopped my parents from visiting so soon after arriving home from hospital; hospital appointments, blood tests, and the threat of an overnight stay, I still live with the guilt that, in retrospect, there was nothing wrong and that Theia somehow missed out. I have been lucky in that I haven't experienced postnatal depression. Although, as I asked my health visitor, I am grieving so would I even know I had it? Probably not. There have been many moments of joy and happiness over the last five months. Theia is a smiley, happy little girl, who giggles and squeals and loves all the love, cuddles and attention that everyone bestows upon her. We, as first time parents, were in awe of her when she rolled over, cooed at her when she started giggling, smiling, and "baby talking", and are enjoying to chaos and mess of weaning. But the time is tinged with sadness. Deep rooted and raw. Her first Christmas will be our first without my dad. My mother has already told me she is "cancelling" Christmas and that she wont be doing it at her house, which I can understand. She was married to my dad for almost 49 years. Family events will be very hard for her. But we don't get that option. And it's something I am very grateful to Theia for. We HAVE to move on. To smile. To laugh. To make memories. She forces us to live and live well. This week I'm back at work. Guy is on daddy duty, and annoyingly, but not unsurprisingly, he's excelling at it. He was born to be a dad. Me, I have to work and learn at it. But to Guy, it seems written in his DNA. It's both strange and comforting slipping back into my role. The familiarity of it calming and I feel as though I have found a little of my sense of self. That and the fact I can finally enjoy a hot cup of tea is reward enough. |
| 39) Do you exercise? Why or why not and what type of exercise do you do? About eighteen months ago, maybe a little more, I fell/slipped down the stairs at home and twisted the muscles and tendons in my foot; yes it was painful; no I couldn’t walk on it for ages without crutches; yes I out on a stupid amount of weight over the two month period and felt really crappy about myself. But this also gave me the kick up the butt I needed to join the gym – and actually go…. I joined up on a partner membership with my husband, and roped a colleague (and her other half) to join as well. After our week trial and induction we were all ready to have free rein over the leisure centre: swimming pool, gym, aqua classes, yoga/Pilates, and aerobic-like classes would all at our disposal, along with the steam room/sauna/whirlpool. I started off small; as I was still injured and could really do load baring activities, so it was just gentle tai chi, aqua aerobics, swimming and walking on the treadmill a few times a week. Over the course of three months I continue to increase my activities – graduating to jogging on the treadmill. Soon I was going five to six times a week; sometimes in the morning for a class of body balance or swimming, but mostly in the evening after the work rush. The weight was coming off nicely and my clothes were fitting better; eventually I started to lose the weight I’d steadily been piling on over a number of years. I felt great. I had more energy. I had more muscle tone – hell I was impressed I had muscles. It also helped me firmly fit into my target BMI for IVF. I continued going to the gym during my IVF cycle as much as I could. It was much harder. Playing with your hormone levels has a huge effect on your energy!!! I was so proud that I managed to run in the 5km muddy obstacle course for Cancer Research. However, towards the end of my cycle I was struggling. By boobs were huge and tender and my ovaries were swollen and full – I felt like an over stuffed chicken every time I took a step. Then the panic set in during our two week wait to see if the transfer had been successful and we were pregnant. I was obsessed with taking it easy – anything to help our little embryo stick. And once we’d received our big fat positive I was paranoid about the pregnancy being viable – I was also taking extra hormones to support the pregnancy – none of which is conducive to maintain a regular gym routine. Ten weeks turned into sixteen, when my hip, back, and pelvis decide simultaneously that walking was painful. The weeks stretched even further. Now at twenty-seven weeks I still haven’t stepped foot in the gym – in fairness I have been struggling to walk the dog… It’s so frustrating as I love going to the gym. I love the feel of achievement I got from seeing the improvements physically and in my performance. I had wanted to remain active throughout the pregnancy to help combat the weight gain and keep my fit for labour. The fact that I haven’t been able to do this made me feel awful – like a failure. But I remain positive. My hips have started to ease. Walking the dog isn’t painful at all. And with three months left with bump I may venture back – even if it’s just to the swimming pool or walking on the treadmill. I just have to avoid the New Year rush; the place is heaving at the moment with newbies in their sparkling outfits, power walking on the treadmills. I hate New Year at the gym. At the very least I can start walking Indy more often and for longer!!! I’m looking forward to going back more often once the baby has arrived – granted there will be a few months break while I re-coup. The gym has child care facilities which I plan on making use of once they are old enough. In the meantime Guy will just have to look after them for an hour or so, and we’ll have to add some lovely spring walks with the dog and pram into the mix. I also can’t wait for baby swimming/play classes – I am ACTUALLY excited about them. I want our little one to love the water – to love sports in general. |
| 12. Do you wear glasses or contacts? What is the hardest thing about having them? Would you ever consider having corrective surgery? I’ve had to wear glasses/contact lenses for the last 10 or so years. It started off with a slightly correction for when I watched TV, used a monitor, or drove the car, but it became steadily worse over the following 18 months or so, to the point that I was wearing my glasses all the time. I hate it. I was convinced I didn’t suit glasses, and it wasn’t helped by friends and family commenting on “how different” I looked with them. To top it off I would things like running, rock climbing, photography, even just walking in the rain a pain. They would fall out, slip down or fog up all the time, making things I used to enjoy rather less so. I can remember going out on a works evening meal one night and I decided to forgo the glasses as I thought they made unattractive. When I arrived everyone said they “hardly recognised” me without them and commented on how lovely I looked. I spent to whole night looking at the fuzzy faces/outlines of my colleagues. Looking back makes me laugh at how vain/insecure I was about the whole thing, but then I had only been wearing them for a short time and was still very conscious of them. I wasn’t brave enough to try contact lenses. In fact the idea of stick something in my eye freaked me out. I put it off as long as possible, but inevitability I made the decision to try them. I went to the opticians for my appointment and sat in the chair at still a possible while he popped each lense on my eye. I didn’t squirm at much as I thought I would. I was extremely proud of myself… until I realised they weren’t going to let me go until I had successfully removed and reinserted the lenses myself. This did not go well. I couldn’t for the life of me get the lenses out. I couldn’t get the hang of the pinching technique. Needless to say after half an hour of trying my eye were bloodshot and sore, but I persevered and eventually got them out. The popping them back in was the easier part it turned out. At the end of my session I walked away with a pack of trail lenses that would last be two weeks, some solution to clean them off in, and some eye drops – turns out dry eyes is a side effect. Fast forward nine years and now I’m a veteran of contact lenses and have moved on to the fortnightly constant wearing lenses; I’m naughty and sometimes wear them in the swimming pool, steam rooms, and saunas even though I know it will dry them out. And I’ve occasionally lost track of my days and worn them longer than I should have. I still have my glasses and wear them for three/four days in between lenses changes. My work colleagues often tell me I’m pulling a Clark Kent on them as I “look like a different person” when I wear them; seriously do not wear glasses into the office and cut your hair it really confuses people; I actually had my then boss ask where I was even though I was sitting at my desk – bizarre. Now that I’m pregnant I’m debating whether to go back to my glasses – did you know that, as well as all the other wonderful changes your body goes through, your eyes also change shape….. making wearing lenses dry and uncomfortable. First shoes and now lenses – I swear babies HATE fashion. I am tempted by correction surgery, although I do find it a little scary; well, a lot scary actually. I know many people so have sworn by it, but I’m not sure I am ready to go down that route yet. If it went wrong it’s a HUGE loss. And it’s not a silver bullet; it won’t necessarily give you perfect vision or remove the need for glasses/contact lenses (that depends entirely on the severity of your prescription), and your eyes change every decade or so due to natural aging – I think more people become short sighted (it might be long sighted I get confused) as they hit forty. I think if I was to elect for surgery I’d wait until I’m in my forties and my eyes have stabilised again. There will be more research done by that point on the side effects and more statistics available from those that were brave enough to try it. |
| Dear Me, 2016 is going to be a BIG year on many different levels. The biggest and most fundamental change/achievement this year is “scheduled” to happen around the beginning of April. This is when we’re going to welcome our little one into the world. It’s the realisation and completion of a journey we started over five years ago; one that part of me thought would never happen. To say it’s been emotional would be an understatement. It’s been hard, tiring, and on times soul destroying. So maybe it’s no surprise that my goals for this year focus on becoming a mum for the first time and my baby – Noo. These are my promises to me, my husband and Noo:  To enjoy to last few weeks of being just a couple. We’ve just over thirteen weeks left of being a twosome before we become parents, and while I’m looking forward to meeting our baby I’m very aware that life as we know it is going to change to dramatically. My friends have told me to make to most of the time we have together because as soon as the little one arrives our priorities are going to shift and romantic meals and gestures will be replaced by nighty bath and bedtime routines and stories with cuddles. It all makes me realise how much I don’t want to lose the “us”. I want us to remember that we’re more than just parents, we’re husband and wife to, and that won’t change just because we create a little mini-mee.  To continue write in my journey regularly.I may not get the chance or have the energy to logon to the computer every day to update an online diary/blog, but a handwritten journal may be more feasible. I want to continue with my pregnancy journal and then I want to create one for the first year of being a mum – I’ll of course be creating a baby journal to chart Noo’s progress as well. I’ve loved re-reading my chicken scratches about our early days of IVF. There is something very personal about a hand written diary as opposed to an electronic one. It capture so much more than just words; the accidental tea stains; the drops of tears; the pressure of the pen/pencil; and let’s not forget the doodles.  To enjoy my six and a half month maternity leave and make the most of my one-on-one time with my little Noo. Everyone tells me how precious the first year is and how quickly it goes so I don’t want to take it for granted. There are going to be so many “firsts” this year and I want to capture them all, whether that’s photos, videos or hand prints. We have three weeks together as a family in October, as Guy is taking the last six months of my 12 months maternity allowance, and I have three weeks holiday I’m tacking on to the end of the first six months so there’s a cross over. We’re thinking of going on our first “Family Holiday”. Going abroad may be a little too much for us, but we could rent a cottage and take the dog with us. There are plenty of places we’ve yet to visit in the UK and October is usually quiet mild – I’m thinking Loch Ness; Noo and Nessie…  To finish and edit my “Hello Little One” story. It will be nice to know why the story finally ends – or begins, depending on how you look at it. Our IVF journey has been draining, as well as humbling. I know how lucky we’ve been to get our Big Fat Positive in our first cycle and re-reading my notes and diary entries has brought a tear to my eye – which technically isn’t that difficult these days… I cried in “Honey! I Shrunk the Kids” on the weekend. I often joke that by the end of this pregnancy I will have been “pregnant” for eleven months not nine. IVF still feels like one of those taboo subjects that’s only spoken about in hushed tones, and only happens to “Other” people. I’ve come to learn that nothing could be further from the truth. I hope sharing my experiences cathartic, but also give reassurance to anyone starting on the same journey.  To start working on my Dragonoo series – a collections of children stories that focus on Noo, a part dragon, part kangaroo kiddlywink and the mischief they get up to.I’ve wanted to do this for so long. My sister and I have even talked about her illustrating the stories. In fact my sister is creating some wall art of dragonoos for Noo’s room. READI’m not sure how much time I’m going to get to read during 2016. I’ve a list of books to get through that I completely neglected last year, but I think I’ll be lucky if I read even a handful. I’m led to believe sleep will be at a premium, squeezed in between feeds and nappies changes, and there’ll be days when I won’t want, or be able, to get out of my PJs. It doesn’t sound like an ideal reading environment. But I enjoy reading and so I’ll just have to remind myself to take the time every so often – maybe when I’m relaxing in the bath, or perhaps while the baby is busy breastfeeding.  WRITEI always have this down as an aim each goal, and each year it’s a varying success. There always seems to be something that takes priority and nothing could be truer this year. There’ll be priorities on top of priorities that come before writing. And I have to be realistic, as much as I want to write even day it’s not going to happen, but I can promise that I‘ll write when I can, be it my diary, an outline, a character development, chapter entry or short story draft.  My last commitment to myself is to relax and not get too stress and annoyed if I don’t achieve many of my goals. I want to read, I want to write, I want to lose the baby weight, but sometimes the best laid plans fall apart. What matters, and will always matter, is my family and our happiness, and that means being the best wife, mum and Stephanie I can be. 2016 is going to be amazing and truly life changing in ways I can't yet imagine. Enjoy it. It will pass very quickly. Stevie Word Count ▼ |
| 1. How do you feel about getting older? Does it frighten you? Please you? Is there anything in particular that concerns you or that you look forward to? I never thought I would worry about getting older. It's something I knew would happen but thought would take a long time - possibly forever. I see my life, thus far, in chapters. There's the one where I was a child growing up in the UK and Saudi - where I learnt to walk, talk and swim; the one where I was a teenager in boarding school - where I developed my personality and had my heart broken a few time, as well as broke a few rules;and my twenties - where I learn to be on my own and independent, where I found love. Now I'm in my thirties - a time when I got married, when we had our first child, and hopefully buy our first house. The ending of these phasing never bothered be because I was ready to move on to the next, to see what happened next. I've just over five years left before I hit my forties, and there is a lot that I still want to achieve and experience, much of which will no doubt centre around our new family. I also have personal things I want to do. I want to finish my book and be published for a start. I haven't decided what my forties will entail - I'll decide that closer to the time and when I'm there. I suppose the idea of aging has never bothered me as much as mortality; although you could say that the two go hand in hand somewhat, all be it not exclusively. And its because we don't know how much time we have left that I "worry" about getting older. Of running out of time. For all I know I could be in the twilight of my life, or (hopefully more the case) I've still to hit my half way mark. The thought of wrinkles don't bother me too much and anyway there is anti-wrinkle cream. My grey hair can by covered or I can learn to love the new look. But the fear of losing my memories, control of my body, and who I am, scares me more than I can articulate. Of course there are some good things to growing old - caring less about what those who don't matter to me think, a self-assurance and understanding of what's really important to me, and the confidence to go after it and make it happen. I look back in fondness of the girl I used to be, but I wouldn't turn back the time; as much as I like the story told so far, its the bits that are yet unwritten that hold most interest to me. |
| 9) What are your goals or resolutions for 2016? 2016 is going to be a very busy year for both Guy and I. We've three months left to prepare for our little arrival - I think there are going to be a number of posts relating to babies in the coming months - and then the fun will really begin. The normal resolutions don't really count. I don't drink that much anyway and being pregnant I'm not drinking at all; something that I plan to continue when I breastfeed. I can't do much in the way of exercise as I have pain in my pelvis from the pregnancy, so can't really see me going to the gym that much. The truth is there are a lot of things that are going to be unknown; our lives are going to change dramatically and so rather than focusing on resolutions that will probably fall by the waste side or not be applicable, I think it’s more likely to be a case of just trying to keep our heads above water. I always say I’m going to make more time for my writing, and while I would love to believe this will be possible I know that I’m going to have my hands and head full of other priorities. I can only promise that I will try to fit some writing in – even if it’s just a diary of my thoughts and feelings, or a journal of how the little one is developing/growing. There are a few things I can try, although they sound pretty lame when I write them down: a) to eat healthily for the rest of the pregnancy and while breastfeeding b) to be as active as possible - I'm keen to try prenatal yoga and to start swimming again c) to lose at least half of the baby weight by the end of 2016 d) to be honest about my feelings during the rest of the pregnancy and early motherhood e) to be the best mum I can be f) to still find time for me and Guy |
| Do you have a tattoo? Describe it and tell us what it means to you. If you don't, tell us what you would get or why you would never get one. I have a tattoo on my lower back, along my spine. It’s a small dragon, very similar to the one of the cover of “the girl with the dragon tattoo” that sits in the middle of a tribal “v” shaped bar. I got it on a whim when I was about 19. I’d always wanted one and was in the parlour, with my then boyfriend, and got convinced to get one, they had a space available and before I knew it I was sitting in the chair. I don’t regret it; sometimes I wish I had spent more time selecting one, but to be honest it’s not something that I see of a daily basis and I often forget it’s there. Personally, I love tattoos. I didn’t find them painful either. It wasn’t painless, but it wasn’t as bad as a thought it would be. My tattooist actually commented on my pain threshold and could easy it was to tattoo me. I was almost like therapy sitting in the studio chatting away about anything and everything. I also find tattoos attractive – if done right. My husband has several on his arms; one on each of his biceps (an outline of Australia with a Welsh dragon in the middle, and a “Soldier On” emblem that he shares with his best friend), and forearm sleeves on both arms. I really like them. They are all black outline and the sleeves are a very detailed biomechanical design with a cobra on one and a scorpion on the other. I’m not sure if I’d like them if them with coloured in. I have been tempted to get more over the years. I want to get my wedding band tattooed and when we’ve had our children I’d like to get something with their names and dates of birth woven into the design. There is often a lot of comments and pre-judgement made about people with tattoos, often which is completely unfounded. Some of the nicest and most creative people I know have them. I believe they are an expression of that person; I love dragons and I’m Welsh so a tribal dragon and Celtic band seemed to fit for me; my husband is an Australian married to a Welsh woman – hence the Australia tattoo. Tattoos have become more accessible and the tattooist more creative so the last few decades and I’m sure it will continue. |
| Tell us about your first job. My first job was at a well know cinema chain as a “cast member” after college and on weekends. I only worked there for about 18 months, if that. It was my first introduction into the “real” world or the world of employment. There were only a few areas or tasks that needed to be done: selling tickets, showing “guests” to the screen and their seats, and cleaning the screens after a showing – yes there were other things like stopping under 18/15/12 seeing in appropriate films or asking rowdy members of the public to leave so other could enjoy the screen, but in general it was all very dull and boring. It did give me an appreciation of hard, and often unpleasant, work – mopping up spilt popcorn or drink is never nice, not to mention the “other” things people get up to in the back of cinemas when they think no one is watching, and there was a lot of standing around and being on my feet for long periods of time – sometimes 6 hours at a time, so my understanding of practical verse pretty shoes came into being there as well. Above all else I learnt what I thought my value was. What I wanted, or, more to the point, what I didn’t want to do or settle for. I knew it wasn’t forever. I wanted more. It was a valuable lesson to learn, as was an understanding that we all have to start somewhere and usually it’s at the ground level – there are nearly always people higher up or in management position – some of whom probably shouldn’t be there. There were perks!! Free cinema passes for friends and family AND early viewing screening for certain films. Maybe it’s where my love of films came from or at least continued to develop. It certainly was the start of my career – although a bid manager is a million miles away from working in a cinema. |
 Log in to Leave Feedback |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
