02/03/07
New York baby -
Categories: I'm trying to work out how to move to New York.
Turns out, I have no discernible skills to offer the world (in immigration terms, at least). And I don't think being ok at drawing cartoons, having a vague knowledge of Dreamweaver, and writing a few jokes and songs really counts as the 'outstanding artistic ability' you need to immigrate on a skills basis.
So, to quote Napoleon Dynamite - I don't even have any good skills.
Maybe I should have been a teacher or a lawyer after all.
But then I would be sad and miserable and probably wouldn't want to live in New York anyway, I'd want to live in some boring town and shuffle my life away driving an Audi and listening to Phil Collins.
Had the worst job ever yesterday. I had to get up at 5.30 in the morning to go and give out crap little leaflets at Bank tube station - they weren't even free coupons or anything, just a rubbish flyer saying that 'The Business' magazine was now on sale - so of course noone wanted them; noone wants anything at Bank station at 7 in the morning, apart from to block out the entire world and try to forget about the pointlessness of their shallow finance-based lives...
Anyway, it was bloody freezing, I was getting paid some pifflingly small amount (normally I wouldn't do this sort of thing, but Mr Computer-on-credit-card and Mr Rent are looming ominously on the horizon...like some sort of horrible doesn't-really-work metaphor) and I was feeling quite crap and rather humiliated - the looks of pity and disdain from the angry commuters wasn't doing much for my self-esteem, and my hands felt as if they were going to drop off from the cold.
So - I went down onto the steps of the tube station (not actually inside) where it was a bit warmer. After about 5 minutes the station inspectors came over and said "come on, off you go" - of course I hadn't realised I wasn't allowed to stand there but I immediately said "oh, ok, sorry, I'll go back out - it's just so cold out there!" (I was not at all begrudging in the way I said this). Then one of them said to the other (in a snidey, not directly to me but meant for me to hear way) "Well get another job then"
Well, given that I was feeling utterly crap about myself for having to do this job in the first place, and that I was only doing it because I am quite, quite desperate for money at the moment, this upset me a bit.
I started crying in that awful way that usually only happens when you're seven and another child has called you a fat idiot - where you get completely hysterical and can't breathe or stop crying.
Of course, the poor inspector man hadn't expected that sort of response at all; he came back over and said, "I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to upset you" - but I just couldn't stop crying. I ran off and hid for a bit, but when I came back he was still there, and made me go with him to buy a coffee. Which was very nice of him. So in the end I managed to skive the crap job for about 20 minutes, and when I went back, noone seemed to notice that I hadn't been there; and I managed (somehow) so stay until the end, to earn my pitiful £40.
I'm not going back next week.
Better go - have to go over to the BBC dressed a bit like Avril Lavigne.
The life of an artist, eh.
Ruthus Bobbinus x
PS I have a new 'contact' form on my website - www.ruthpickett.co.uk/Contact.htm
It works and everything.
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