Showing posts with label rants and ramblings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rants and ramblings. Show all posts
Thursday, 20 February 2014
Wednesday, 22 January 2014
Unemployment rate drops to 7.1% and yet I remain unemployed. Where do I fit?
I worked incredibly hard for my GCSEs, achieved good 'A' levels and went on to pass my degree with first-class honours.
I came out of university and couldn't get a job. I ended up in the public sector in an admin role.
I moved on, and on, to the next temporary role I could find. All the while, applying for creative jobs.
I never 'knew' anyone in the creative industry; I never got a job in the creative industry.
I'm now 25 and my CV heaves like a dusty concertina, revealing lines of admin duties and mediocre responsibilities between the dirty folds.
Earlier in the week, I had a second interview. One other candidate was up against me. I was thrilled to be considered and hoped that my thorough experience and creative background would be enough to land me the role.
At the end of the day I am given the news that I am unsuccessful. I am 'overqualified'.
Pipped to the position because my CV is a bit too shiny with my A*s and my experience is a bit too advanced for this particular job.
In the past I have been a cleaner, a retail assistant, a receptionist, worked in IT, for charity, for the ambulance service...
I have taken jobs because I've had to earn money, and have tried to make them as enjoyable as possible by taking on additional tasks and responsibilities. I have managed to build entry-level roles into something really rather skilful and worthwhile.
But in this case, where I believed I had a real shot at something good, my achievements and efforts worked against me and I remain unemployed. What bitter statistic am I?
...Anyway, on to the next one!
*I'm not technically unemployed yet. I finish at my current job on Friday and am relocating to a different area.
I worked incredibly hard for my GCSEs, achieved good 'A' levels and went on to pass my degree with first-class honours.
I came out of university and couldn't get a job. I ended up in the public sector in an admin role.
I moved on, and on, to the next temporary role I could find. All the while, applying for creative jobs.
I never 'knew' anyone in the creative industry; I never got a job in the creative industry.
I'm now 25 and my CV heaves like a dusty concertina, revealing lines of admin duties and mediocre responsibilities between the dirty folds.
Earlier in the week, I had a second interview. One other candidate was up against me. I was thrilled to be considered and hoped that my thorough experience and creative background would be enough to land me the role.
At the end of the day I am given the news that I am unsuccessful. I am 'overqualified'.
Pipped to the position because my CV is a bit too shiny with my A*s and my experience is a bit too advanced for this particular job.
In the past I have been a cleaner, a retail assistant, a receptionist, worked in IT, for charity, for the ambulance service...
I have taken jobs because I've had to earn money, and have tried to make them as enjoyable as possible by taking on additional tasks and responsibilities. I have managed to build entry-level roles into something really rather skilful and worthwhile.
But in this case, where I believed I had a real shot at something good, my achievements and efforts worked against me and I remain unemployed. What bitter statistic am I?
...Anyway, on to the next one!
*I'm not technically unemployed yet. I finish at my current job on Friday and am relocating to a different area.
Wednesday, 2 May 2012
I remember my first pair of jeans. They were electric blue, from Gap kids, and had an elasticated waist with a fake zipper and big button. I wore them every weekend with either my Gap hoodie or Next hoodie. One day the button fell off: devastating! That signalled the end of my tom-boy era, I think.
Years later, my love of hoodies and elasticated waists has not faltered, though I have adjusted my everyday preferences slightly: hoodies and body-con skirts (grown-up, heavily restrictive but still elastic-esque I suppose), though more favourably, hoodies and pyjama bottoms.
Unfortunately, I can't wear pyjamas to work, or anywhere outside really. Airports are OK. However, when I wore them out to the Co-Op I might as well have been wearing a Tulisa name-badge judging from the looks I got. Normally, I wouldn't really mind looking like FHMs sexiest, but this year my fave magazine* failed hard, and the looks I got were representative of that. Chavtastic.
Here's the thing: I need jeans because they are useful! I wish I didn't and they weren't.
My search for good jeans never ends. It sporadically 'ends' in tears, or with a miserable pricey purchase.
I've always had shape to my legs - by shape, I mean thunder thighs and muscly calves - and since the sad departure of my grubby jeans in my grubby kiddy era, I have had to cope with the nightmare of trying to find ones that, well, kind of fit my adult figure. Whatabitch.
In contrast to my legs and bum, my waist is small small. So I have this choice to make when I do buy jeans:
1) Tight tight tight tight tight eeeeeshk tight - then have a huge gaping gap at the base of my back. DRAUGHTY.
2) Tight tight TIGHT - pause - tight tiiiiight OMG TIGHT shit too tight shit shit - then frantically peel off like a molty molting snake and then get them stuck on heels and feet and then tread on alternate leg of jean and wobble and crash into mirror and try to fling and flick them off whilst blood circulation returns to thighs.
NEITHER OF WHICH ARE IDEAL.
Before you dare suggest that ghastly JEGGING invention, I'll stop you and say NO they don't work either. Still super gapey and no loopholes for a belt- rubbish. Plus the name repulses me.
So, jean-makers. I wonder if you could make a pair of jeans which are pretty cool, can fit over the legs I actually need to be competitive in what I do and that I've worked hard for, and don't cause me severe physical and emotional trauma. Also, I don't want to flash my pants. I've heard that 7 For All Mankind may be the brand to provide the resolution to my conundrum, but ffs they're over £200.
Whatever, I'm getting back in my pjs.
*saracasm
Years later, my love of hoodies and elasticated waists has not faltered, though I have adjusted my everyday preferences slightly: hoodies and body-con skirts (grown-up, heavily restrictive but still elastic-esque I suppose), though more favourably, hoodies and pyjama bottoms.
Unfortunately, I can't wear pyjamas to work, or anywhere outside really. Airports are OK. However, when I wore them out to the Co-Op I might as well have been wearing a Tulisa name-badge judging from the looks I got. Normally, I wouldn't really mind looking like FHMs sexiest, but this year my fave magazine* failed hard, and the looks I got were representative of that. Chavtastic.
Here's the thing: I need jeans because they are useful! I wish I didn't and they weren't.
My search for good jeans never ends. It sporadically 'ends' in tears, or with a miserable pricey purchase.
I've always had shape to my legs - by shape, I mean thunder thighs and muscly calves - and since the sad departure of my grubby jeans in my grubby kiddy era, I have had to cope with the nightmare of trying to find ones that, well, kind of fit my adult figure. Whatabitch.
In contrast to my legs and bum, my waist is small small. So I have this choice to make when I do buy jeans:
1) Tight tight tight tight tight eeeeeshk tight - then have a huge gaping gap at the base of my back. DRAUGHTY.
2) Tight tight TIGHT - pause - tight tiiiiight OMG TIGHT shit too tight shit shit - then frantically peel off like a molty molting snake and then get them stuck on heels and feet and then tread on alternate leg of jean and wobble and crash into mirror and try to fling and flick them off whilst blood circulation returns to thighs.
NEITHER OF WHICH ARE IDEAL.
Before you dare suggest that ghastly JEGGING invention, I'll stop you and say NO they don't work either. Still super gapey and no loopholes for a belt- rubbish. Plus the name repulses me.
So, jean-makers. I wonder if you could make a pair of jeans which are pretty cool, can fit over the legs I actually need to be competitive in what I do and that I've worked hard for, and don't cause me severe physical and emotional trauma. Also, I don't want to flash my pants. I've heard that 7 For All Mankind may be the brand to provide the resolution to my conundrum, but ffs they're over £200.
Whatever, I'm getting back in my pjs.
*saracasm
Friday, 16 March 2012
When I'm travelling anywhere, most likely I'll see the majority of people thumb-smacking their phone keys, swiping a swish swizzle on their iPads, holding a Kindle (woe), or maybe just reading a book or the paper.
We become so engrossed in these activities that our spine suffers: contorting and stiffening while our focus remains with what's held in our hands, our gaze rarely becomes distracted, with our ears plugged in and attached like reins. Our necks lengthen and pull forward away from our bodies.
Where once we stood tall, it seems we are crumpling and creating a shape for ourselves which is unnatural, unattractive, and unhealthy.
Sat on the tube one day, beside me is a man playing a first-person shooter game on his PSP. Volume at full blast, really into it, cursing when he gets shot to pieces etc. Lovely! Sitting beside one another he looks half the height of me. His head barely reaches the level of my shoulder. As he gets up to leave the train, he's at least 6ft. I presume that on every journey his seating position is much the same as he divulges in the luxury of being shot to pieces in virtual reality.
Sat on the train another day I'm opposite a man with an iPad on his lap, thrashing away at some email that obviously determines his life or death in actual reality. Irritatingly, he keeps knocking my knees. He procedes to move his face closer and closer to the device as his anger builds, thus moving his face nearer my lap. Just no. I got up and stood for the rest of the journey while he continued to finger punch his tablet of fate.
We are all guilty of slouching. Heck, I love a good lounge! How comforting it is to slump and sink sometimes. But what is so worrying is the shape in which we are forcing our bodies into for hours and hours a day; at our desks, as we travel, as we sit: a big capital 'C'. Our skulls weigh a ton - sometimes you might've been bored and tried to weigh it by making yourself all relaxed and letting it fall onto your palm? Just me? Whatever. Imagine the strain your back is under trying to hold up that beastly boulder!
I don't remember 'hunchback' ever being the norm. Yet as I look over at young children holding an iPad in both hands, cross-legged and staring into the alluring screen trying to catapult a rabid bird into some domino house made of gold-encrusted bamboo poo sticks - their spine has no purpose. It's unset jelly, slowly and surely growing naturally into that curve.
As you sit, remember your spine. As you stand, remember your spine. As you bury yourself in your Kindletron or get wrapped up in your iPad (both physically impossible, may I add. With a real book you can actually bury your head in it. Have tried; have succeeded.) just remember that yeah, you are bendy, but never take for granted that you have the option to curl up and be a slinky OR stand tall and straight.
It'll be so much harder to straighten yourself up and out than succumb to setting in the jelly mould of a capital 'C'.
We become so engrossed in these activities that our spine suffers: contorting and stiffening while our focus remains with what's held in our hands, our gaze rarely becomes distracted, with our ears plugged in and attached like reins. Our necks lengthen and pull forward away from our bodies.
Where once we stood tall, it seems we are crumpling and creating a shape for ourselves which is unnatural, unattractive, and unhealthy.
Sat on the tube one day, beside me is a man playing a first-person shooter game on his PSP. Volume at full blast, really into it, cursing when he gets shot to pieces etc. Lovely! Sitting beside one another he looks half the height of me. His head barely reaches the level of my shoulder. As he gets up to leave the train, he's at least 6ft. I presume that on every journey his seating position is much the same as he divulges in the luxury of being shot to pieces in virtual reality.
Sat on the train another day I'm opposite a man with an iPad on his lap, thrashing away at some email that obviously determines his life or death in actual reality. Irritatingly, he keeps knocking my knees. He procedes to move his face closer and closer to the device as his anger builds, thus moving his face nearer my lap. Just no. I got up and stood for the rest of the journey while he continued to finger punch his tablet of fate.
We are all guilty of slouching. Heck, I love a good lounge! How comforting it is to slump and sink sometimes. But what is so worrying is the shape in which we are forcing our bodies into for hours and hours a day; at our desks, as we travel, as we sit: a big capital 'C'. Our skulls weigh a ton - sometimes you might've been bored and tried to weigh it by making yourself all relaxed and letting it fall onto your palm? Just me? Whatever. Imagine the strain your back is under trying to hold up that beastly boulder!
I don't remember 'hunchback' ever being the norm. Yet as I look over at young children holding an iPad in both hands, cross-legged and staring into the alluring screen trying to catapult a rabid bird into some domino house made of gold-encrusted bamboo poo sticks - their spine has no purpose. It's unset jelly, slowly and surely growing naturally into that curve.
As you sit, remember your spine. As you stand, remember your spine. As you bury yourself in your Kindletron or get wrapped up in your iPad (both physically impossible, may I add. With a real book you can actually bury your head in it. Have tried; have succeeded.) just remember that yeah, you are bendy, but never take for granted that you have the option to curl up and be a slinky OR stand tall and straight.
It'll be so much harder to straighten yourself up and out than succumb to setting in the jelly mould of a capital 'C'.
Saturday, 4 February 2012
*SWEEPS AWAY VIRTUAL LAYER OF DUST ACCUMULATED ON TOP OF BLOG*
My blog-writing style combines sitting, looking, tea-making, staring, glaring, cursor-moving, cursing, deleting, deleting more, etc. Not a good combo and hence why there has been so little content on the Kactus Plant for some time. However, I have tried to kick my lazy brain into gear to write a little post on a few things that were important for me in 2011.
Job
Coming back from Nepal I had 4000 Nepalese Rupees to my name, BUT it's a closed currency so I couldn't exchange them at Delhi airport or anywhere back home; making me a penniless fool. Instead of seeking out the black market, I tried my very hardest to find a job. Every day I applied for goodness knows how many and by the middle of the second week I'd bagged one at a media agency.
Applying for jobs makes you weary, and you forget who you are when you've looked at your CV one thousand million times and your name just looks wrong and hideous and you come to the conclusion that all fonts are UGLY. One bonus is that you know every synonym for the word 'responsible' and also 'also'. Sign up to all the agencies, talk to all your contacts and take advice from your friends; something always comes along in the end. Even if it isn't perfect, it's something.
Hair cut
I lopped off about 30cm of my hair last year. Felt good. It's nice to chop off something long and dead and the hairdresser will LOVE you. Double-whammy.
Yes
Saying 'yes' usually has means good things happen, and if they don't then at least you can just run away and say you tried it.
Nepal
See previous post here on being an adventurer.
Being brave
Intrinsically linked to the above, being brave is all encompassing. (And now I'm getting lazy...)
Tea
Solves all problems. Always. (That's being truthful and to the point, not lazy...)
Reading
I read a lot last year, though this was partly due to the fact I had a little too much spare time on my hands and books therefore in my hands. I have the hench new Murakami novel to read at some point but I know I'm going to have to take a few weeks out to dissect it all. There's nothing better to escape reality and plug into a wonderful fiction. I love sub-plots and unicorns.
Writing
Ok so that's one post done for 2012. Insightful. Hopefully a few more will follow and I'll stop being so lazy.
My blog-writing style combines sitting, looking, tea-making, staring, glaring, cursor-moving, cursing, deleting, deleting more, etc. Not a good combo and hence why there has been so little content on the Kactus Plant for some time. However, I have tried to kick my lazy brain into gear to write a little post on a few things that were important for me in 2011.
Job
Coming back from Nepal I had 4000 Nepalese Rupees to my name, BUT it's a closed currency so I couldn't exchange them at Delhi airport or anywhere back home; making me a penniless fool. Instead of seeking out the black market, I tried my very hardest to find a job. Every day I applied for goodness knows how many and by the middle of the second week I'd bagged one at a media agency.
Applying for jobs makes you weary, and you forget who you are when you've looked at your CV one thousand million times and your name just looks wrong and hideous and you come to the conclusion that all fonts are UGLY. One bonus is that you know every synonym for the word 'responsible' and also 'also'. Sign up to all the agencies, talk to all your contacts and take advice from your friends; something always comes along in the end. Even if it isn't perfect, it's something.
Hair cut
I lopped off about 30cm of my hair last year. Felt good. It's nice to chop off something long and dead and the hairdresser will LOVE you. Double-whammy.
Yes
Saying 'yes' usually has means good things happen, and if they don't then at least you can just run away and say you tried it.
Nepal
See previous post here on being an adventurer.
Being brave
Intrinsically linked to the above, being brave is all encompassing. (And now I'm getting lazy...)
Tea
Solves all problems. Always. (That's being truthful and to the point, not lazy...)
Reading
I read a lot last year, though this was partly due to the fact I had a little too much spare time on my hands and books therefore in my hands. I have the hench new Murakami novel to read at some point but I know I'm going to have to take a few weeks out to dissect it all. There's nothing better to escape reality and plug into a wonderful fiction. I love sub-plots and unicorns.
Writing
Ok so that's one post done for 2012. Insightful. Hopefully a few more will follow and I'll stop being so lazy.
Thursday, 10 November 2011
Welcoming delegates with plenty of grandeur and copious amounts of coffee and cake, this year’s European Women and Sport (EWS) conference was held at the 5* Grange City Hotel in London. EWS constitutes a network of individuals and organisations from 44 countries committed to achieving gender equality in sport; increasing the involvement of women at all levels and in all functions and roles.
175 delegates and guest speakers attended from all over Europe, dedicated, determined and keen to share ideas and initiatives to help achieve the EWS key objectives. As my first international conference experience, it was a pleasure to be involved with an event of such status, and a privilege to represent WSFF.
The opening reception took place at the handball arena on the Olympic Park and we were lucky enough to drive around the site on a gorgeous clear evening. With less than one year to go now you can really grasp what the park will look like when it’s complete; its flowing infrastructure is finally becoming realised.
The arena certainly makes an impact with its shell of copper cladding contrasting against a vibrant, colourful interior. Paul Deighton, LOCOG Chief Executive, was terribly excited to divulge that the outside had been coated with horse urine to preserve its deep colour and prevent rusting. Not many knew how to react to that; I applauded.
More excitingly, the exclusive London 2012 gender pin badge was unveiled for the first time. It is the fourth to have been issued in celebration of six strands of diversity, engaging all communities to support the Games next year and beyond.
The conference itself was made up of workshops, presentations and interactive question and answer sessions. Being the official photographer for the event, I tried to sneak into as many as possible whilst lugging around my paparazzi kit. I managed to catch a few minutes of the ‘More Women = More Medals’ session, where Helen Glover, athlete for British Rowing, spoke about her extreme career progression since 2008. Having never even stepped into a boat before, Helen was selected to become a potential professional athlete through UK Sport’s ‘Sporting Giants’ where she fit the specification: young, tall, with a sporty background. I’m currently Googling ‘How to become taller…’
'The commercial value of women's sport' workshop was led by Sue Tibballs, CEO here at WSFF, and Kelly Simmons, Head of National Game at The FA. The session focused on presenting our research looking at the state of sponsorship for women’s sport (hot off the press and will be released soon).
The panel discussions and plenary sessions on both days were incredibly impressive, pulling together a real mix of influential and well-respected individuals. It was truly inspiring to learn about the real initiatives and developments being made all over Europe to get the status of women in sport to where it needs to be.
Concluding the conference, the general theme was that there’s still a lot to be done, but progress is certainly being made. William Gaillard, Advisor to the President at UEFA, stated that women’s football, in particular, has come a long way; ‘like going from the Stone Age to the iPad in the space of a decade.’ By being creative and persistent, it is imperative that this trend is encouraged across all sports because as we know…
"Gender equality in sport is not just good for women, but good for sport." Amanda Bennett, Chair, EWS.
[Written during my internship at the Women's Sport and Fitness Foundation www.wsff.org.uk]
Saturday, 20 August 2011
Beach volleyballers Zara Dampney and Shauna Mullin are world-class sportswomen. I don't know if Marketing Week have trademarked the term that they'll be "renting out their rears" but if you haven't heard, that's what these ladies will be doing... dutifully. Betfair will be printing QR codes on the ladies' bikini bottoms having signed an exclusive advertising deal to see them through to the 2012 games.
Andy Lulham, UK sports and marketing PR at Betfair, says this:
“There is huge interest in beach volleyball and we want to ensure that our advertising campaign is seen and remembered by as many sports-fans as possible."
Ah, so you're targeting the 'SPORTS-fans'. Silly me! Though I do wonder how anyone is going to concentrate on any kind of game action when they're trying to line up their little QR bum codes on their little mobile screens.
The last time I watched beach volleyball, I definitely remember the players moving. Quite a bit actually. Oh, UNLESS, Betfair are going to get the women to stand in a line, stationary, just so that spectators can get a half-decent voyeuristic view. Stick it up on the big screen - far more efficient. Actually, sod the game, forget the sport, as long as Betfair get a good return on their rented rears..!
Wait a sec, Andy says more:
“As far as we’re aware this is the first time QR codes have been used in in-play sports advertising and what better way to test its effectiveness than by putting them on one of theplaces that is likely to get photographed the most.”
So, OK, let's apply this theory to the sport of men's gymnastics; in particular, the pommel horse or the still-bars. I wonder whether a brand with any kind of rep would ever think about plonking a QR code on the man-parts which are most likely to be viewed by spectators during these events. Hmmmmm.
You think that's a tenuous analogy?
Tuesday, 16 August 2011
1) Tuthuffers
- Train approaches platform.
- Commuters congregate in small huddles where train doors MAY halt at.
- Train reaches platform and slows.
- People suddenly decide to walk alongside the train - faster than it's moving - knocking into those standing on the edge of the platform as they try and catch up with the doors that've already passed.
- Throughout this process they tut and huff. One lady actually shouted 'Come on!' at me. Come on where? What?!!?! Panic.
Summary:
I don't understand how I always seem to be in the way and why I deserve any kind of tut. I tried to move along with the huffers but ended up miles away from any door and subsequently didn't get a seat. HUFF!!!!
I don't understand how I always seem to be in the way and why I deserve any kind of tut. I tried to move along with the huffers but ended up miles away from any door and subsequently didn't get a seat. HUFF!!!!
2) Cyclists cycling through pedestrian underpasses
- Big 'CYCLISTS DISMOUNT' sign in glaringly obvious position.
- Cyclists continue to cycle through underpass and ring their bell to notify me of their presence. OR, if they're not lucky enough to have a bell, they change their gears up and down. Yep. They crinkedy crunk through their gears to be as audible as possible without using their vocal capacity.
- To test whether they're able to say 'Excuse me please' - or produce any kind of sound from their mouth - I continue to walk in the middle of the pedestrian walkway to get a better view around the approaching blind corner. This results in getting barged by a rib-level handlebar.
- OH! So it turns out this gear-cruncher can speak! But it no longer matters. As he says 'Oh sorry! Are you OK?' he's already 3 metres away and accelerating around the corner - swerving around a Granny just ahead of me but thankfully avoids her ribs because they probably would've CRUMBLED.
Summary:
Can't people read? Most signs are there for a reason, and 'CYCLISTS DISMOUNT' is obviously there - primarily - to prevent bone-crushing. On a different occasion, I tried moving aside to let them pass as I couldn't be bothered to instigate another accident but then ended up bashing into another pedestrian trying to do the same as we went around the corner. Spent a good 3 seconds doing that awkward side-step-oop-which-way-you-going-there-haha-redface-lolz thing.
3) Peak/Off-Peak
- Off-peak trains get in to London at 10a.m. or later and I sometimes commute into London on these trains.
- I get on a train having bought my ticket - I think I'm maybe one minute earlier than normal so that's good! Hooray, maybe I'll be able to stand still on the Central Line escalator today! :)
- Ticket conductor comes whizzing through the carriage mumbling 'Any more tickets?' and I'm like 'Ooh, that's me! Hold on a sec! Come back! HEY!' and he walks back to where I'm sitting - by the window, next to a man with a big big bag on his lap so I am kinda hidden and peeping out, smiling and waving like a big big loser.
- Ticket conductor does a smirk and proceeds to tell me the ticket is not valid for this PEAK service. I'll have to pay a fine at the cost of a day ticket to London.
- My face looks like this: *_* and is the colour of an earthy beetroot.
- Me: 'What time does this train get into London?'
TC: '9.59a.m.'
Me: 'Oh.'
- Rummaging through my purse to get the ordeal over with, I can't be bothered to question him or holler or cry. I'm too embarrassed and eeeveryone trying to get a good look but HAHA the big big bag is covering me.
Summary:
Ticket conductors are really harsh.
Friday, 1 July 2011
That is Andrew Castle. Earlier he was trending on Twitter. As thousands of Wimbledon viewers hunted for the remote to hit mute during the Nadal/Murray semi-final, the twitterers that endured his commentary still found it infuriating, embarrassing, ridiculous, or a combo of all of the above. Personally, I found it quite hilarious. See highlights below:
Thinking out loud during the classic BBC super slow motion shot of the tennis ball with spin on it:
'That ball is full of irony...'
On Nadal:
'This is a man not lacking in the work-out department.'
'He cooks as well? Is there nothing he can't do!? Such a good bloke...' ♥
Having a giggle and getting too excited following Nadal's fall on his bum, throwing his racquet up in the air only to catch it pretty neatly in one fluid motion:
'Look! He's a juggler in his spare time. You could see him at the Moscow State Circus as well as winning these Grand Slams couldn't you!? Hehehe!'
Murray throws hat on ground in a grump. Andrew naturally responds with:
'Hats off to Murray.'
And finally:
'Murray is being beaten by the force of Nadal's personality.'
*
I think Andrew should make his way back to the GMTV sofa...
Sunday, 8 May 2011
Uh oh. I’m in one of those moods...
I came across an article written for The Atlantic which focused on the United States’ creative crisis. By analysing the role of ‘play’ in our childhood upbringing, education and its role in the workplace, Laura Seargeant Richardson suggests that in order to teach the youth to innovate and succeed within a creative economy, as well as increase our human potential, the formalisation of play must be a national effort. Unfortunately, there are a number of modern developments that are discouraging creative play and encouraging the growth of a bland society - not only in America but here in the UK.
Richardson suggests that we nurture the ‘superpowers of play’ :
‘Superpowers [...] are the physical and mental skills that we develop to adapt and thrive in a complex world, while exploring the creative opportunities made possible by global progress [...] They aren't narrowly defined subjects. And they aren't a technology platform. They are naturally occurring abilities we purposefully foster that amplify our human potential.’
The ‘extras’ that cannot easily be measured but enable us to do more, go further, push boundaries, break conventions. Innovate.
Super they may be, but how on earth do you identify and utilise these skills? And whose job is it to do so? Mum is a secondary school English teacher and continually finds that teenagers are unable to think flexibly and find it difficult to imagine and empathise- more so than they did a few years ago.
She asks: ‘Why do you think this word used?’
They reply: ‘Because it just is.’
Etc.
There's no point in trying to teach them to think outside the metaphorical box, they’ll be staring blankly at the box and waiting for it to give them an answer. Usually, the box = computer. You can't teach someone to create an imagination for themselves and you can't expect a teacher to do that.
In the UK where debt reigns and cuts are more like gaping bloody craters, it is the arts and creative programs that are abolished from schools and clubs first. What message does this send to the nation? Creative and extra-curricular tasks are made separate and subordinate to core literacies and numeracies and because of this, are able to be dismissed entirely. They're a nuisance! Opportunities for children and young people are diminishing and that is truly rubbish.
As we grow up our conventional playtime naturally decreases. We turn to other things to explore our playful mind, I guess. In most cases the divide between work and play is clear. However, Richardson reiterates the importance of play within the workplace as we mature and states that many industries are craving candidates that are able to work with their playful mind. In a recent IBM survey, 1500 CEOs identified creativity as the number one leadership competency of the future. They want work and play to mix because creativity creates good business.
In the long term, Richardson is optimistic that we, both young and old, will magically learn to embrace and excel our superpowers of play but her conclusion is ridiculously utopian:
‘[R]ather than measuring memorization as an indicator of progress, we will measure our children's ability to manipulate (deconstruct and hack), morph (think flexibly and be tolerant of change), and move (think "with their hands" and play productively). Standardized aptitude tests will be replaced by our abilities to see (observe and imagine), sense (have empathy and intrinsic motivation), and stretch (think abstractly and systemically). We will advance our abilities to collaborate and create.’
I find that hard to imagine when throughout each hour of the day we, at all ages, are reliant on things being given to us, fed to us, with no need for interpretation. The growth of the social networking sphere has meant that although opinions are encouraged, they're heavily influenced; copying is cooler. I think that's off-topic... Oopsy! Time to end.
Well, I’m off to find Rt Hon Michael Gove MP to discuss important matters such as these. In the meantime, click here to view The Guardian's handy interactive map to see the 206 organisations nationwide that will receive £0/nada/zilcho funding for the financial year 2012/13 and here for Richardson's original article.
*
If all else fails, force your children to play the piano whilst wearing a ravishing Chinese outfit. Good combo for superpowers. PEOWPEOW!
Thursday, 3 February 2011
Apple have hurriedly patented their portable stretchy napkin-esque device: the multi-touch skin. Apparently, this technology could pave the way for...
‘a plethora of future product concepts.’
Plethora, schmethora. In this post, I’m going to point out the disadvantages and downsides to this type of invention, just because I’m in that kind of mood.
(NB. I’m hoping you’ll also find some sensible critique that’s not influenced solely by hormonal fluctuation.)
Here is a technical drawing of the multi-touch skin (yes, really) :
Good.
Application in sporting equipment and training (i.e. Tennis)
‘The multi-touch skin is wrapped around the entire circumference of the handle and extends along the length of the handle and in this manner spans three dimensions of the object enabling multi-touch input as a player grasps the handle during play.’
Kit Eaton (tech writer at FastCompany) says the skin could be ‘darn useful’. Darn useful for CHEATING more like. As this kind of technology excels, athletes will rely more heavily on machines and computers to determine what’s right and what’s wrong. Human error will be unacceptable and technology will be ready and waiting to point out a 0.0001% deviation from perfection.
What happened to natural talent?
Touchy-feely-sweepy-slide-swish
It seems we are unable to make any finger movement other than swish and slide these days. It freaks me out when young kids already have this movement ingrained in their motor memory. I was sitting in a doctor’s waiting room and looked over to a little girl furiously playing Angry Birds on cool Dad’s iPhone. She must’ve been only three or four years old and was wearing Velcro shoes; I wonder if she could tie her laces. Tenuous analogy? Oh well. Even though cool Dad was getting five minutes peace, there was clear disconnection between the two of them. Little girl’s blinkers were on and up – nobody was going to interrupt her!
So anyway, Kit goes on to say...
‘Imagine a remote that merely relies upon the brush of your thumb to change channels.’
No problem! That’s pretty much what we have already, you doorstop! I’m not sure about you, but I don’t notice a greater difficulty in pressing a button cl-ick than a sweepy sa-woosh. But I guess we’ll eventually say bye-bye to the faithful button.
Boo hiss. I’m never going to be able to relieve any frustration by swoooooshing away from the One Show.
Replacing buttons with thumb sweeps make some things more ergonomic for some users. Those who are born into this touchy-feely techno-world have no problem picking up this way to interact with such gadgets, but to try and explain this kind of function to an older demographic just wouldn’t work.
Multi-touch skin guitar lessons for the super-unsociable
Using the napkin with a guitar could mean that...
‘The user could perform chords on the guitar fret in conjunction with instructional software shown on a display. The player’s chords on the multi-touch skin could be tracked and then analyzed by the instructional software to determine if the player is properly performing the chords. That would work nicely with Apple’s Garage Band ’11 iLife app for Guitar Lessons.’
Learning to play music through a screen and analytical software? My survey says NO. In my experience, music teachers are one of two breeds: scary and brilliant or lovely and useless. Without a combination of nagging, pestering, scolding and... crying, I don’t think I would’ve learnt as well as I did. I know that I wouldn’t have had the same relationship with a display screen anyway – computers are either off or on.
The influential presence of a human cannot be matched or replaced by a technology (at the moment), and it’d neverrr be able to be exactly the same. In addition, the words ‘tracked’, ‘analyzed’, ‘properly performing’ would rarely be heard within a musical teaching environment. Because music is so expressive and personal, it requires a human touch and human ear to guide a pupil through the learning process, and sometimes that doesn’t always mean playing all the correct notes all of the time.
So?
Yes, napkin technology is clever and perhaps useful in some contexts (you can research these for yourself) but it’s important to look at technology in a negative light sometimes. Because so much hype surrounds every new development; it’s easy to get wrapped up in the excitement. So, to conclude this post, the multi-touch skin and its potential application would discourage social interaction, it would cut out important life-experiences, and continue to endorse laziness with even greater dependence on computers and technology.
End.
Diagram and all excerpts in purple taken from http://www.patentlyapple.com/patently-apple/2011/01/apple-delves-into-three-dimensional-multi-touch-skins.html and http://www.fastcompany.com/1722569/apple-imagines-3-d-multitouch-everywhere (02.02.11)
Wednesday, 26 January 2011
So Andy Gray has been sacked by Sky, Richard Keys remains just about in-tact though mounting pressure has left Sky in a difficult position following the revelations of the past week. Where does this leave Sian Massey?
‘Apparently, a female lino today, bit of a looker’
‘A female linesman? [...] No, I wouldn’t. I definitely wouldn’t... I can see her from here.’
‘What do women know about the offside rule?’
The conversation between Andy Burton and Gray ahead of Saturday’s match between Wolves and Liverpool.
‘The game’s gone mad. See charming Karren Brady this morning complaining about sexism? Yeah. Do me a favour, love.’
Keys, on the newspaper column written by the West-Ham vice chair.
These comments and quips have not been blown out of proportion, they have been presented for what they are, and that is sexist. The term itself is flung about and used blandly to cover a number of sins, but the issue that’s most upsetting is the result of the media circus that has erupted around a qualified professional official who has done nothing but get on and do her job. Sian Massey has not uttered a word during the whole palaver, and unfortunately decided to step down from her match on Tuesday officiating for Crewe Alexandra and Bradford City. A completely unfair consequence which meant a highly-competent and experienced individual was not able to do carry out her employment duty as an assistant referee.
Even through the statements were captured when the men thought their mics were off, it’s a shame now that journalists are rummaging through old reels of footage, scavenging for quotes from any male presenter that has ever been in the limelight. There’s no need for the media to rub it in our faces that these kinds of remarks are made – we know already! But the fact that such an old-fashioned and shallow point of view is still prevalent within the sports world just shows how slow people adapt to change. On-air or off-air, it’s still an ideology that hinders a fair portrayal of women in today’s ‘modern’ society.
The fact that women have had to struggle for years to make it just about acceptable to have a female presence within a male dominated sport is bad enough, but why is it the norm to still be judged and talked about with all remarks based purely on gender?
Boring!
Monday, 17 January 2011
‘New’.
It seems that the definition of the word is lost during the month of January. New Year’s resolutions are far from revolutionary.
January allows brands and businesses to convince us that we have overindulged so much that we really should feel awful. If we’re not feeling awful about those mince pies, we should probably re-think the meaning of indulgence. Tut. Condescending voiceovers remind us of brands’ ethereal presence, and January is the perfect time for their products and services to re-emerge, just in-time to save humankind from fat, flab and feeling awful. New Year; new resolutions; new solutions... recycled from last year. If you weren’t thinking about losing weight, you should. Everyone else is! You must try this diet which allows you to snack, and this food which makes you never want to snack. Oh, and this diet which makes you look like Cheryl Baker! Hooray!
Sitting on the sofa becomes a sin as bouncy youthful enthusiastic enthusiasts show off their toned bods for a fitness DVD that was filmed 6 months ago. Oh, and not only is TV-watching frowned upon, but that sofa you’re lounging on certainly isn’t suitable for 2011. If you weren’t shopping on Boxing Day and taking advantage of the pre-VAT increase, you must be bonkers. I don’t own a sofa, but I’m still saturated with adverts from furniture stores whose pre-requisite for success is to use acronyms and acronyms alone. Who knows what they could stand for...
On this theme, January is also a time for shops to clear out stock. Those winter coats that were new-in two weeks ago are pushed aside to make way for swimwear and flip-flops. We know that the fashion stores operate on their own seasonal axis, though this doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t buy up the ‘SLASHED’ price goods which are still very much appropriate in this cold weather. However, sale items loiter in the corner well into February looking crumpled, dusty, and so last year as we stock up on florals and linen. Spring/Summer ‘11, innit!
Resolutions shouldn’t be restricted to be made in January alone. There’s far too much else going on anyway... playing with Christmas presents, for example. And before you ask, no I don’t have any resolutions as such. I’ll change what I want in my own time, when I have time!
Roll on February.
Monday, 22 November 2010
My boyfriend and I went to Cafe Rouge, simply because we had converted Tesco clubcard points to make prizes; in this case, restaurant vouchers. Our meal was fine, I had rice and vegetables in sauce and boy had meat and potatoes in sauce.
Whilst eating, I notice the lady beside me (she really is beside me. Waitresses made sure to cram in as many couples as close together as possible) is crying. Cringe and awkwardness. Then, I see a glimmer in the corner of my eye with my crow-like peripheral vision and realise that golly gosh, he's gone and proposed to her with a sparkly sparkly ring...
In Cafe Rouge. Right beside me. Right beside me and boy and our elbows and outdoor coats.
Trying to digest this, as well as the rice, vegetables and sauce I couldn't help but gawk a little bit. At this point I reflect that that's what the proposer would've wanted anyway, even if the proposee didn't. Although she had agreed to marry him, so I presume that she would share his opinion on the matter and so I continued to gawk and do not feel bad for doing so.
After they nabbed a couple of glasses of free champagne, proposee spends approximately 25 minutes calling and texting and status updating and social networkinging and tweet and pinpinging everyone in her phonebook. She doesn't know how to send multiple messages and so this is a lengthy process. Meanwhile, proposer just sits there... maybe he's looking smug, but I'm not looking at him, I'm (secretly) watching female fiancee; appauled by the (kinda lack of) drama unfolding.
Now, really. For one, am I that old-fashioned and romantic to think that a proposal on a busy Saturday evening at Cafe Rouge is not ideal? Nor is it very personal. I don't know. I don't judge the pair as a couple, but it certainly was interesting to see how this extraordinary tale unravelled. Secondly, the importance of being socially aware and 'being connected' to one another has a horrible affect on people's personal lives it seems. Those (precious?) moments after the proposal, she ain't gonna get them back is she! Ever!
Her thumbs hold onto distant memory of the proposer's words as they were translated into noughts and ones quicker than any nimble soul could ever get down on one knee.
Cafe Rouge proposal + super social networking. It's a thumbs down from me, I'm afraid.
Ugh.
Monday, 1 November 2010
Whilst walking along a busy main road you can combine the inhalation of fumes, the splash of murky polluted puddles, beepbeeps from the early morning perves etc with a beautiful backdrop of magenta and vermilion. The deepest purple and the freshest green amongst sunshine yellow and burnt orange frame the edges of the street so colourfully. If you happened to have a 24 pack of Crayolas handy, I'm pretty sure you could identify every snazzy name they ever gave those little pencils - 'burnt sienna', 'tan'...
In the afternoons at 5.30pm before the clocks went back, a clear blue sky was the prettiest colour of 'sky blue' that'd ever been called pretty. I actually once smiled up at it because it was just the most perfect shade.
Now the clocks have gone forward the daylight fades too quickly and I squeeze my desk up against the window to absorb as much as I can while it's still around. Now I walk home and it's dark and car lights are on and it scares me when they roar past in the blackness and I can't see the tree leaves that are so beautiful in the light. Now they're only shadows, and all I smell is carbon, and all I feel is 'grey'.
Monday, 25 October 2010
My boyfriend doesn't like X-Factor. Of course, I watch it and I make him watch it and now he is as addicted as me...I think...maybe.
For the duration of the show I tend to make these remarks quite freely:
'What are they doing?!.'
'UGH, that's so flat.'
'Why is he constipated?'
'Why is he smiling like that?'
'Oh I love her.'
'They're just singing in unison again! Dammit One Direction, why won't you harmonise?!'
And ever since Cher was deemed 'THE FUTURE OF POP MUSIC', I have decided to reconsider all that this world stands for. If that girl is the future, I don't think there is much point in continuing. Will we really be subject to scrawny/verging on ill, chav-esque Cheryl-looky-likeys who are apparently too 'street' to wash their faces and proudly sport heinous treble-clef-side-of-hand gross tattoo transfers...
*tremble*
What I would do to just lend Cher a Simple make-up wipe or two, and while I was at it perhaps mention that if she got a good pair of trousers with a decent crotch she wouldn't have to dance with her knees wide-out and be groin-centric. I'd take her to Gap for some tailored monochrome - see if she can rock that.
Hmm, my prediction for the final is as follows:
Matt, Cher, One Direction. And I reckon Rebecca and Katie will go far.
Perhaps I digress from my initial point. What was it again..?
Anyway, it's quite nice to huddle round the tele all cosy, and with no Generation Game to keep company on the weekend's any more we now set our eyes on the future of all that is to be 'pop'. No more cuddly toys or plate smashing, we get to slag off, scrutinise and criticise everything that's shoved into our little spongey faces. We're wonderfully reassured that it's OK to divulge with others to compare 'our' thoughts and opinions on those poor X-factorites.
I have decided not to get started on Brian Friedman this time around, but my wrath will come very soon. (i.e. just because you are gay does not mean you are exempt from being hideously sexist, inappropriate and downright degrading with your dance routines!)
Enough.
Friday, 23 July 2010
John Frieda Go Blonder : "WHERE IS THE SUN?"
First of all, it's impossible to steal the sun because it is too hot and really far away. You'd probably need to be an astronaut too, and judging by that girl's somewhat inability to talk, I'm going to guess that her main talents include pulling that really annoying face, raising her eyebrow and being mute. I doubt that she has gained the necessary qualifications to become a sun-stealing spacewoman though looks can deceive and perhaps I am being a little unfair to Blondielocks. The main point of this post is to outline the stupidness so here are the consequences of what would happen if the sun was stolen and then like.. put in your hair:
- You'd die.
- Your hair would definitely be in worse condition.
What is also stupid about this advert is the promotion that follows regarding their equivalent brunette collection. Basically, there's no equivalent to the sun, and brown is a really difficult colour to match up with something humongous and awesome like a sun so they don't even bother using Blondielocks' stereotypically evil twin... Brownielocks. Imagine if the sun was brown though. Everyone would think it was rubbish. So, basically, John Frieda are stupid... and brunette-ist.
Friday, 12 February 2010
Every day I get older.
I'm finding that being 21 is particularly difficult. Not only do I have an inexplicable obsession with reminiscing these days, but also an unavoidable and unmanageable tendency to dwell on every decision knowing that each step I take is leading to another, another, another. Leaps of faith are a regular occurrence that I just don't feel comfortable making. Sleep is lacking on all accounts and afternoon naps of first year are a thing of the past (see, reminiscing again...)
Of course, one could argue that every minute detail you decide upon in your life has its respectful consequence, one biscuit or two pour example (i'm talking packets here, these are tough times), but I do know that my mind is not ready to decide upon an answer for that ominous question that seems to be on everyone's bloody lips at the moment - What are you going to do with your life?
Ok, so HOLD UP... let's break it down:
What-are-you : a third year student, currently juggling a million and one deadlines whilst trying to rid myself of the straitjacket that's conveniently wrapped itself around me and the lamppost in the centre of the high street down in Antisocialville; population 1 + sketchbook, camera, laptop and ever-prevalent backache, headed for graduation 2010.
going-to : I'm going nowhere, unless it's the library.
with : ...Myself.
your-life: In this context I guess it means your life of the future.. which I think is ridiculous on many levels. Mystic Meg, anyone remember her? She was involved with all that future, predicting malark and look how far that got her. Let's deal with the life of now - sitting, breathing, being.
? : This is a wiggly line and a dot which concludes this silly,wiggly question quite appropriately.
Recently, my answer to this question has been- I ain't got a clueeeeeeee! And this is a lie... big pants on fire liar, right? WRONG. I don't have a clue... does anyone have a clue? What about letter it might begin with? Sigh. I'm dealing with technicalities here, nobody would have a clue would they... this isn't eye spy. I hate that game, who invented that game!? It is not a game, there are no winners = no point of it existing.
A-ha! Winning. Now that's a topic I can relate to and it may even be relevant to this little blog right here.. mabes.. Ok, so I like winning; in my life, I want to win. There we go, that's what i'll reply to the next person who asks me WAYGTDWYL.
Mmm, perhaps not. This isn't a game of Monopoly where I insist on being banker and slip myself an extra 400 each time I pass GO...and Go To Jail.
Perhaps the only option is to run away. Run run far away and in the opposite direction to the way the globe spins, reducing time to a meaningless nothingness that can not affect me as I reverse the inevitabilities of growing old and avoid all the decisions I would've had to once face.
But where to run to!?
UGH, maybe it is too late for my mind to be wandering. But I know as soon as I save this up there'll be no shutting it up 'til early morn as I try to digest the day's events. I'm meant to be having a few days off but I knew that wasn't going to happen. I'll continue in the morning where i'll be bright as a button, shiny (oily) and about4 dress sizes larger than I was today after a hefty binge of vegetable pasties, Thorntons chocolate, organic flapjack, custard from the tin, Co-op walnut cake, pasta bake, Weight Watchers yoghurt (it was on offer), 2 p-p-p-p-penguins and a homemade caramel shortbread...
I guess my mind won't be the only one having trouble digesting.
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