Back to the drawing board

(Would my job hunting be more successful had I an actual drawing board to return to? It may be a wise investment. Could I find a job as a drawing board? This could be a line of enquiry worth investigating).

Graduate schemes have been an epic fail. I know I'm amazingly awesome and fantastic (modest, too), but it's hard to prove this in a sea of 1,000 other applicants.

So, I'm currently now applying for admin jobs in a variety of exciting locations (NB: this is a rare instance where I am not actually being sarcastic. I'm going for the cool admin jobs rather than working for a double-glazing company). I know it's not often the words 'admin' and 'exciting' are used in the same sentence, but I'm a slightly strange person who actually enjoys tasks such as photocopying and putting things into alphabetical order. I think it's my inner pedant asserting itself.

Worries

I'm not generally a worrier, but two scary dates are starting to loom. The first is 17th May, when I have to hand in my dissertation. Thanks to the weighting system, it's worth the equivalent of my entire first year of university (joyously, QM is one of the few places where the first year actually COUNTS). So, no pressure there, then.

The second, and even scarier date is 20th July, where I shall don a ridiculous hat and pay a ridiculous amount of money to get myself photographed clutching a rolled up piece of paper (to clarify, I'm graduating, not going to Glastonbury).

I have no idea what I'll be doing post-May. I'm desperately trying to find a job, but as I'm up against nearly 1,000 other people, my optimism is gradually diminishing. In a sea of Oxbridge graduates, I have no idea if a degree from a lesser-known college of the University of London makes me stand out for good or bad reasons.

Apparently, the graduates from 2009 who've already got their rolled up bit of paper and a year's work experience under their belt are also aiming for the decent jobs, so while there may be more jobs available than last year, there's also even more people to fight for them. And I have no idea how to make myself look better than everyone else.

It's at times like this that being best mates with the Queen or my dad owning a newspaper would probably come in useful.

What worries me is:

1) I have no idea if I'll be able to get a job.

2) I think I know what I want to do, but may turn out to be horribly wrong.

3) What I want to do is related to, but not actually, the thing I really want to do. But there's no way I'll ever make a career out of the latter, as - to be blunt - I'm simply not good enough. So I'm having to settle for something I know I can do, and hopefully enjoy.

Then of course there's issues to weigh up. I want to travel, but also would quite like to get out of rented accomodation one day. What do I put my money towards? Do I concentrate on having fun or establishing a career?

It's a big, wide world out there, and unlike most graduates I don't have the option to run away back home for a few weeks when it all gets too much. So I'm on my own. Which, to be honest, terrifies me. At the moment I've got the support network of uni, but that'll all be gone in a few short months.

I think it's time to break open that bottle of banana beer. And hide under my duvet until the real world buggers off. I may be here some time.

Abroad thoughts, from home

I need a holiday. Not for any particular reasons of rest or relaxation, but I've forgotten what the sun actually looks like. Even my pasty Celtic skin needs occasional UV rays, and I suspect I may be about to develop rickets. Britain is still lingering through the coldest winter in 30 years, and while the snow may not have been particlarly apocalyptic here in central London, it's been grey and cold and wet and miserable for a depressingly long time. Usually by now we've got a few signs of life such as snowdrops or a few confused trees bursting forth in blossom, but everything outside my window (not that you get much in the way of nature in Hackney) is resolutely dead. I'm hoping that when the spring finally gets here, it'll be akin to Aslan's return to Narnia: I'll wake up one morning to a glorious and magical transformation. A girl can dream.

There was no trace of the fog now. The sky became bluer and bluer, and now there were white clouds hurrying across it from time to time. In the wide glades there were primroses. A light breeze sprang up which scattered drops of moisture from the swaying branches and carried cool, delicious scents against the faces of the travellers. The trees began to come fully alive. The larches and birches were covered with green, the laburnums with gold. Soon the beech trees had put forth their delicate, transparent leaves. As the travellers walked under them the light also became green. A bee buzzed across their path.

"This is no thaw," said the dwarf, suddenly stopping. "This is Spring."

C.S. Lewis - The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.

In other news, I'm still applying for jobs. Graduate schemes are looking increasingly impossible to elbow my way into, so I've started looking at more general admin work. Providing I remember to wear my glasses (which it pains me to wear as reading glasses seem to be associated with people at least twice my age), I have no problems with sitting in front of a computer all day. I'm a student, it's what I do best.

I saw a wonderful friend of mine today from the Netherlands, who brought me over a 600g packet of hagelslag. And bought me a vegetarian fry-up and coffee in Wetherspoons. This is why I love him. Hagelslag is a rather marvellous invention: chocolate sprinkles that you pour over hot buttered toast and eat for breakfast. The Dutch are truly amazing. It was also great to see him and have a catch-up. Last time I saw him was in June for my birthday, and I'm eternally grateful he was randomly placed in room 424 while we were both hostelling in Melbourne.

The eagle-eyed among you may have spotted that my profile picture has changed. Today I hit 1,000 site views (it may be a negligable amount to most, but I'm quite proud of it) and decided nothing says "celebration" quite like sparkly silver deely boppers.

Gissa job?

After the slightly mad week of job applications, I have received my first rejection letter. (Well, email). They were very nice about it, it's more the issue that they received 800 applications that worries me.

When I manage to grow a moustache, it's time to start worrying.

Things I have learned in the past week and a half

1) Bernard Cribbins thinks Great Uncle Bulgaria and Madame Cholet were at it.

2) It is possible for me to write 9,000 words in the space of a week. Not necessarily well, but at least written.

3) Sensation fiction is far too long.

4) There's an outbreak of norovirus at the moment. Despite this, the GC assures me the stomach bug he's had for the past week isn't at all contagious, and is turning up tonight. I'm legally allowed to murder him if I get ill, right?

5) It is impossible to write a cover letter without sounding like an idiot. And apparently "please hire me, I'm awesome" isn't acceptable.

That's pretty much it. The past week or so has been a fascinating combination of either essaying or sleeping - with the exception of seeing Bernard Cribbins at the BFI (who was fecking awesome, and I want him as my grandad) Also headed to the launch of Birds Eye View. They had free wine. I was happy.