| Sunday |
| a new beginning as an F&A attendant |
I make my way into the enormous stadium, feeling sluggish and drained after a long day with little sleep the night before. The adrenaline rush and my perfect sense of direction led me to the muster room where we had been told to meet on our first shift. After our induction evening where we were told that Delaware hires thousands of staff each year, I had anticipated the muster room to be relatively large with couches and coffee machines for employees to relish in during their breaks. I had been fooled.
The room was tiny with a round table and miniature lockers to put our belongings – I almost had to use two lockers, one for my bag and the other for my jacket – but ended up tossing my things on top of the lockers instead. I had brought with me a combination lock which I had forgotten the combination code for. The only splash of colour - and life - in the room, came from the girly magazines resting in the centre of the table. I introduced myself to two other girls also waiting for their shift to begin. With no chance of “get-to-know one another” small talk, they returned to burying their heads back into whatever they were reading. I did the same.
After the first shift, I understood why they hadn’t bothered trying to make friends. We each worked individually, allocated to a single room where the kitchen is just big enough to squeeze two people in and a mini bar set out in the dining room. The sole hallway leading to the suites is so goddamn long that getting to and from the suites is in itself a gym workout. Team leaders and supervisors stroll up and down the hallway with special gadgets hung around their necks, peering into the suites every now and again, as if they are waiting to catch us red handed nibbling on left over gourmet food or sneakily chatting on our mobile phones, so that they actually have something to do.
I was lucky enough to have been allocated with another lady – Brooke – for my first shift. She’s middle aged and had been working there for years. She knows the tricks of the trade. Several times, I caught her drinking soft drinks from the fridge and nibbling on plates of left over food and desserts. She would quickly scoff down the food and drink as I walk into the kitchen, and then throw whatever else that didn’t quite make it into her mouth out into the wastes bin.
I’m not sure whether it’s the smart thing to do, but I pretended not to notice each time. We were all specifically told that eating on the job is considered stealing and may result in instant dismissal. Brooke offered me platefuls of untouched left over food a couple of times, but I politely rejected. It’s certainly tempting, I admit, but didn’t see why I should risk being embarrassed on my first shift being caught red handed. She must’ve thought I was a goody-goody and was afraid that I would report to our head supervisor. Several times she apologised to me out of the blue for apparently being rude and for not teaching me enough. I thought she did her job fine.
That is the thing with starting a new job. Do you want to belong to the rest of the clan and cross over to the dark side? Or be seen as a studious type going by the rule book, who no one wants to work with ‘cause they can’t be sneaky with you around? I guess I need a couple of more shifts to figure out which side to take. Any suggestions?
This is embarrassing, but I might as well tell you it. I was left on my own in the suite of 20 corporate business men and women for almost an hour. I didn’t think it would be a challenge at all, but apparently, it’s not that simple. A customer requested for a glass of red wine and I had just finished pouring out the opened bottle. I had to open one myself. Scary stuff, I know. I had never opened a red with a wine opener before. I know the theory behind using the wine opener; poke, twist, push, lever and pull, but when it comes to doing it, it’s an absolute disaster.
I cunningly removed the bottle from the bar into the kitchen out of my customers’ sight and began poking and prodding at the cork, but with each successive try, the cork just seemed to go deeper into the bottle, rather than out. One more poke and the cork would’ve fallen into the red. I paused and stared at it. My customers were waiting and Brooke wasn’t due back for another half an hour. Perfect. Red and flustered, I put on a brave smile and walked back to my customer. Instead of admitting to the simple fact that I can’t bloody open a wine bottle, I let them know that the bottle opener had broke and I’m waiting for Brooke to bring back a new one. phew.
I really need to learn to use my friend before my next shift, but I freakin’ left him sitting on the bench and forgot to take him home with me. Grrr. |
posted by sciurine @ 11:51 PM   |
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| Monday |
| a bag of emotions sitting and waiting to be poured out |
the grim news hit me hard yet it seemed so distant a year ago. such bleak possibilities seemed impossible at that time, but it is now slowly closing in on me day by day. reality takes its time to settle in. as news and discussions of those who are unaffected surround me, even those who i consider close seem not to realise that it only makes my day even harder to bear. i forgive them for they are currently uninfluenced. i remain silent as it seems unreasonable to pour out feelings to those who fail to feel the same.
isolated and alone. affected yet powerless to change.
As the old man walked the beach at dawn,
he noticed a young man ahead of him picking up starfish and flinging them into the sea.
finally, catching up to the youth, he asked why he was doing this. the answer was that the stranded starfish would die if left in the morning sun.
"but the beach goes on for miles and there are millions of starfish" countered the other. "how can your efforts make any difference?"
the young man looked at the starfish in his hand and then threw him safely into the waves. "it makes a difference to this one," he said.
standing alone, even one can make a huge difference. but to stand up against the odds and be that person seem unthinkable. i am trying hard but with no true guidance, understanding, and support from those around, i find myself marching on the spot and getting no where.
but be not afraid of going slowly, fear only of standing still.
---even turtles move---
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| posted by sciurine @ 10:55 PM |
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| Friday |
| ramblings |
Inundated with complicated thoughts and questions that i can't even figure out myself, these days i have been finding comfort in reading and cooking. When you truly find the time to immerse yourself in the therapeutic act of reading and cooking, you gradually lose yourself into the novel you're reading or the dough you're kneading, and trains of meaningless but delightful thoughts awash the complicated mind.
I work swell on the reward system, and all i want from that reward system is simple happiness. As with most other people in this world, when something makes you happy, you do it more often. Simple. I've been staying out late for the past two nights and been thoroughly enjoying myself. But guilty feelings for not staying home more often made me sacrifice parts of my social life to please my parents. Sacrifice is necessary, i agree, but not always recognised by others. I decided not to go swing dancing and left early from a friend's 21st tonight, 'cause my mum had asked my to come home for dinner. Fair enough. But arriving at my door step with an empty stomach ready to smoosh my face with some nice warm home-made meal, i was utterly disappointed to find the house also virtually empty. My younger brother was in his room surfing the net, my older brother was out clubbing and my parents had gone night shopping. Resting on the stove was some cold curry laska awaiting my presence.
Well, at least there's nice food.
Another hour passed and mum and dad returned home. I thought we could all sit back and enjoy a bit of friday night footy. But for some reason, what i want is not what i get, mum decided to freakin' lecture us kids over the most minutest of problems, yelling and making a racket outside my room as i lay silently in bed with my laptop. *sigh*
These days, it seems that they just want me home for the sake of having me at home, even if they decide to go out. I just don't get it. And then when i'm home, i get yelled at. I dream that i someday will earn enough money to buy out a nearby house to reside in when i don't want to be home.
Anypoop, the real complication i have right this moment are my health and uni matters. My health is at a questionable phase for the next weeks, and my level of nervousness can only rise with each passing day. I feel like a blob for eating so goddamn much and not being able to run as a consequence of my butt fracture.
Uni however, is also another obstacle in my life i certainly do not need right now. Unallocated for my last clinical block due to poor federal government's management of the university education system for physiotherapy students, i am facing the possibility of taking a forced 6-week break whilst my mates are completing their clinicals, then make up for that time during my summer holidays when my friends are heading for an overseas trip. My plan for global elective is on the line and chances are looking grim for there are only 6 weeks to resolve this problem. I cannot help but feel quite unlucky to be one of the very few unallocated from our whole year level simply 'cause i am towards the bottom of the role call due to my last name. True, feeling sorry for myself is no solution to this issue, but i simply consider it a normal human emotional response. I am being optimistic at the moment, the least the i can do to pull myself through, but i wonder if this optimism is in fact a false self-comforting act, that if i follow through for too long, will foolishly bring my hopes up just to plummet back down. The higher you climb, the harder you fall.
But alas, as Brian once put it, "always look on the bright side of life...whistles"
Swing dancing was totally mind-blowing last night despite the bum pain. There are adequate amounts of good tv shows recently. And have just been successful in a job interview and now am employed as a functions caterer. Life is not always bad i guess.
I have cravings. Korean food for dinner and an over dressed beef burger from grill'd. Topped off with a belgian hot chocolate from Cacao at St kilda or spanish hot choc from fitzroy. Then proceed along to the toff in town for some non-raucous music with a light drink for the completeness of the day. Whose up for it? my shout!
If you have a moment to spare, check out this website http://www.chocolatebuddha.com.au/ Just click and enter the site, and you would realise why i like the design so much.
And...torquer, if you haven't noticed, i've managed to exert the extra effort and press that shift key for capitals *wipes sweat off forehead* |
| posted by sciurine @ 11:09 PM |
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| Sunday |
| back with a crack |
i could really just simply link this post to gneake's post on his recall of our 2-day experience up in the alpines, but i think if i did, he would crack the shits and give me the greasy which he had no doubt practiced numerous times in front of a mirror, as it is actually one hell of a scary greasy.
so here's my version, (but still feel free to read gneake's):
it's been four years since my last contact with snow, a pure white substance that strangely resembles coffee froth for those of you who have never seen snow before. i've been wanting to re-visit the alps a while back but the laziness in organisation and financial limitations always seem to be an excuse not to get off our backsides. this time, i thought i'd try to organise it, which in hindsight, i quite prefer taking the back seat. leadership, i believe, was once a quality i attained in my past life, but no more is it a part of me. leaders are people who we can turn to for mishaps and someone to blame when things go wrong, but they in return receive no appreciation for the time and effort they had put in to make things work, and no credit for when things go to plan. i pity and admire them, but i can no longer be one of them.
anywho, back to where i was. i returned from my ski trip four years ago on crutches due to the poorly designed chair lifts at the beginner runs of mt hotham, which actually required a great deal of ski to dismount. i vowed to myself that i am going to come back in one piece this time.
the quality of the room at the motor inn far exceeded what i had in mind. a cosy room with an ensuite enclosing two single beds and a double bed, all equip with electric blankets, a miniture kitchenette and cable tv, whose company we all incontestably enjoyed very much. staying below the alpines meant that we had endure an hour bus ride to and from the mountain for the two days we were there.
the first bus trip up to the mountains was no doubt exciting. despite being surrounded with the eerie darkness of the early morning, we were buzzing with delight and anticipation - at least i was. the weather was oddly beautiful from what i had in mind from my previous experience.
being the only person in our small group to have actually skiied before, i was left with the option of venturing out into the snow by myself for over two hours, or to pay an extra $30 for a discovery lesson which i felt i did not need. in fear of being alone in an unknown and new surrounding and the possibility of my skiing skills to have completely deterioated since my last trip, i decided to pay the extra. never had i been such a lucky girl, but the lady behind the counter unknowingly upgraded my ticket to include a discovery lesson with no extra charge, to which i genuinely thanked her for as i shuffled my way out of her sight praying that she would not come running after me - as i had no chance of escaping given the awkward design of those heavy ski boots.
after a basic introduction to skiing, i was keen to hit the real big slopes. confident in gneake's ability after his exceptional performance during the lesson, i urged him to ski down a massive slope with me. i went down first, but not without a flip, tumble and half a somersault which landed myself in an awkward position with both skis detached from my boots. gneake followed suit.
i am quite fearless when adrenaline levels escalate. i don't tend to think too much of consequences. who cares if i fall? who cares if i break a leg? after patiently following gneake down the slopes a few times, on which he had countless falls at tremendously slow speeds, i decided to speed ahead. i was under control for a few good seconds, until i think i hit a bump, and i think i tumbled, and i think i spent microseconds in mid-air, my sunnies few off, and then i hit the ground hard. very hard. the intense pain rushed in immediately despite the fact that my buttock was resting in icy snow which theoretically should provide analgesic effects. my both legs felt numb with intermittent pins and needles. i lay silently in the snow. i did not want to move. shit i thought, i think i've lost both my legs. i was so afraid i wanted to block out the world, until some random yelled out to me to raise my arm. i did as i was told despite the agonizing pain.
and then i heard a familiar voice. i made myself sit up and glanced around. and he made me laugh - fallen down the slope next to a wooden pole, gneake was resting on the snow looking in my direction to see if i was alright. for a moment, it seemed like he was in more trouble than me. i got myself together, gathered my skis and sunnies and plouged my way to gneake, who was still sitting on the snow. it was immensely painful to laugh, but i did anyway.
i had never ever required the assistance of paracetamol for musculoskeletal pain relief, but after struggling to get off a toilet seat, undo my boots and sneeze, i knew i couldn't do without. the drug was bliss. for the two hours of which it provided me with relief, i hit the slopes without a care, until it was time for another two tablets.
i gave up the opportunity to learn snowboarding on our second day because of my buttock pain, and i am still kicking myself for it. i had no other option but to ski in the blizzard, where hailstones were constantly aiming for the bare parts of my face, and fog which restricted our view to a 5m radius. i had never been in such horrid weather before.
it's like a battlefield out on the slopes. you need to watch out for both the inexperienced and experienced skiers. the inexperienced one would ski towards you in your direction and you see them frantically trying to maneuver themselves around you to no avail, and will inevitably become another obstacle on the course amongst the poles and ropes you need to get around. the experienced ones are not much safer to be around. any moment, they would swoop around you, spin and do fancy moves that diverts your attention to them and not the obstacles in front of you. very dangerous.
nonetheless, for those who can endure pain and are in for some thrilling and adrenaline pumping experience, i highly recommend skiing. but luckily, it is only a seasonal sport, as i can't imagine doing it for more than once a year: time for recovery, anatomically and financially.
to fill you in on how hard i landed, i paid a visit to a local doctor the day i came back and had some x-rays done. traumatic sacral hairline fracture. only small, but enough to cause a great deal of discomfort and inconvenience. i need to avoid prolonged standing and sitting, stop running and can't bend over. coincidently, i am about to return to uni and clinics which will require prolonged sitting and standing, i have been eating like crazy which means i need to go for a run sooner rather than later, and strangely, i seem to be dropping things more than usual these days but can't bend over to pick it up. murphy's law. heh. |
| posted by sciurine @ 2:17 AM |
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| ABOUT |
Thoughts, ...flowing slowly and gracefully, ...awakening the senses, ...keeping you up in the night, I sometimes wonder why people write. To express? To reflect? To be heard? I write, to free myself from a world of thoughts.
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