New Year, Old Me

So I had a pretty vivid dream last night, and vivid dreams often prompt me to blog about them, although I doubt we’ll completely focus on the dream – the clue is in the blog title.

Anyway, in my dream I started working for a massive, awesome ad agency in London (?) and it was my first day. The office was in an old building on a corner and had loads of floors with spiral staircases in between. There were loads of young, smart looking people hurrying around, talking to each other, walking up and down the stairs. I didn’t get introduced to anybody. In my ‘team’ there were only women – around my age or a little older, they all knew what they were talking about and didn’t include me. We were having a meeting with a big client. It was a hot summer’s day and sunlight was streaming in through the windows and warming up the wooden furniture. It was bright and very dream-like (as hot summer days can often be), I felt apprehensive. They were deciding where everyone could sit. Then the meeting started, and we were discussing the ‘idea’. I still didn’t know who was who, and from the frank way everyone was discussing this idea, I assumed the big client hadn’t arrived yet. I was asked my opinion, and said something like ‘I don’t like the idea, it sounds amateurish and cheap. It wouldn’t convince me. We need something more sophisticated.’ To which everyone gasped, how could I be so insensitive and rude? Saying ‘it’s crap’ isn’t very constructive is it?

It turns out I was sitting next to the client – a slightly older woman. After the meeting, I went over into the corner and there was another older woman, but you could tell that she was ‘keeping young’, interesting haircut and chunky modern jewellery etc – you know what I mean! – she was sketching with lots of colours, which on closer inspection turned out to be make up. It was Barry M make up. There were some other people around (all women…) and I blurted out that I loved Barry M make up, and had lots of products etc. They glared at me – how could I be so insubordinate and speak to the CEO in that way? Yeah. She was the big boss. She asked me to come over. She had used the glitter pots to make long sweeping channels of colour that blended into one another. She needed a name for it. “Rainbow?” someone suggested. Hmmm. Rainbow sounds too child-like… I spoke out different elements of what she’d drawn, and saw each word as a box going along a conveyor belt, and through a machine, and on the other side, words and ideas came out (don’t even ask me where this came from) ‘light’, ‘colours’, ‘vibrant’ – came out as ‘spectrum’. “Spectrum?” I said.

“Spectrum,” she repeated. She held my gaze for a moment or two, and I could tell that she was turning the word over in her mind. Spectrum.

Then I was called downstairs, to speak to the person that had hired me. I got right down to the ground floor and was walking past the entrance, which was semi-circular and made of large slabs of limestone, with a matt tiled floor. The inner door was wedged open and the sunlight lit everything up and a warm breeze was floating through, along with the voices of people walking past on the street. I heard my dad’s voice. I shouted, “dad?!” and walked towards the entrance, out of the office. My nan appeared in the doorway. “Nan! Is dad here? I heard him.” Then my dad came round the corner – he had been on the phone. He looked young. I began to tell him that it was my first day and that nobody had introduced themselves so I didn’t know who anybody was, that I’d made some mistakes and spoken out of turn, and that I felt quite intimidated by the other women. He seemed upset that they ‘hadn’t been treating me right’ and he wanted to speak to the CEO himself about it. Then the woman who hired me came and told me I had to come back inside immediately – I left my dad on the steps, protesting. We went into a sort of ‘chillout room’ on the ground floor, there was lots of plastic, round moulded furniture and the flooring was the type you’d get in an airport or swimming baths, plastic tiles with small circles in. It was all green or white. There were lots of groups of people, sat around, sketching, talking, drinking coffee.

We sat at a table and she began. She said “at the moment we don’t have much work on… so…” but someone came and whispered something to her, she stood up, excused herself, and walked off. I knew I was going to get the sack. On my first day. I ‘wasn’t a good fit’, I ‘wasn’t experienced enough’. I didn’t know enough about the company and I didn’t know who the lady from Condé Nast was.

I started to formulate a ‘speech’ to save myself, The Apprentice style. Anything I don’t know about the company I will learn. I’ll work really hard. I’ll start as an account exec and I promise not to speak unless I am asked to.

Across the room, two of the girls from earlier were in tears, listening to some copy a guy had written for a charity TV advert. He was reading it out loud to them from what looked like a huge story book.

“One student only had 40p a week to live on. He died of meningitis.” The girls bawled in response. “That’s brilliant,” they were saying.

Then I woke up briefly. I looked at my phone, which I keep under my pillow. It was only 8.30, and although I felt like I could have gotten up, my bros are here and I knew they’d be asleep for ages yet. So I turned over and went back to sleep. I willed myself to keep dreaming the same dream. I wanted to know if my plea to keep the job would work.

But instead I began to dream of how I would market Barry M make up. Now I am genuinely a fan and avid customer, but the branding does leave a lot to be desired. With their pricing and the marketing they do at the moment, I think they’re aiming a little bit too young. I’ve loads of ideas of how I would do some things differently – I won’t bore you with them now.

So.

God, what a boring blog post. Sorry guys. Who really cares about my rambling, nonsensical dreams?

It’s just stuff that’s on my mind.

Over Christmas all I seemed to dream about is exes. I dreamed a lot of Jonny, who I’ve been doing my best to forget about and mostly succeeding. I was sharing a room with Mel, and I think that’s what set it all off. Christmas is such a sentimental time, isn’t it?

We went up to Kirkby Lonsdale for the day and had a meal at The Highwayman (which I would definitely recommend), that area, and the south lakes are so beautiful and quaint. I thought that since we were in the lakes (only just, it turns out) that I could nip up and see Curtis, maybe get him to meet me somewhere on the M6. In the end, we met up in Kendal. It was a bit stupid since neither of us know Kendal very well. Anyway, after much faffing around, we met up, got a hot drink (which the guy serving us managed to spill completely down his legs… ouch) and chatted for a while. Turns out that Curtis was on his own, and it was getting late, so I invited myself over to his house. My knowledge of british roads is fairly limited at the best of times, but Kendal to Whitehaven is actually 60 miles… took a good hour and a half… ! We had a good catch up, and talked a lot about Curtis’ mum. We talked about Christmases that had gone by. The house seemed so empty, it was surreal. No Kay. No Shandy.

I slept in the room I used to sleep in, down the hall from Curt’s room. The next day I felt so ill. We just watched TV and chatted. There was a handbag in the magazine rack behind the sofa, and we thought one of Curt’s sisters must have left it… but it was Kay’s. We looked inside. There was her purse, driving licence, all her credit cards, everything. She kept all of her receipts and bits of paper with phone numbers and addresses on. Her make up and perfume and pens and everything… just as she left them. It was so strange. We found a poem inside one of her purses, which had clearly been in there a long time. It was a poem about letting go after someone had died. Perhaps one of her friends who had passed away had given it to her, and she’d always kept it, but it was like a voice from beyond the grave, so strange, and it really upset Curtis. He thought that we were meant to find it. He thought that it was a message from Kay – and maybe it was.

So I’ve been dreaming of Curtis too.

I’ve also had lots of dreams about Daniel, which is a little less surprising. We’re still not together, and won’t ever be, I suspect. He’s like a bad habit. Gives me pleasure most of the time but ultimately I know he’s bad for me. I know I should give it all up, but it’s not quite as simple as that.

Over the holidays, I’ve been thinking a lot about what makes someone who they are, and what makes you love someone. Are you your personality, or are you your actions? Do you love someone for their personality, or what they do? What about family?

If you think of an ex, and think why you broke up, was that because you just weren’t right for each other (personality) or because of an action (had sex with someone else etc)? Can you forgive actions? If they hadn’t done that action, would you still love them?

Now that dad and Wendy are getting married, our families are being brought together. It’s not been easy, and I daresay it won’t get any easier overnight, after the wedding there will still be problems.

I’ve often asked my dad (and wendy), (and anyone with kids for that matter) – WHY would you have children, and why do you stand by them so steadfastly, even when they are in the wrong, even when they do things to hurt themselves and to hurt you and hurt other members of the family? Why do you give up your adult life to devote yourself, your money, you give up your opportunities, you bring them up in the best way you can, you try to teach them good values, what do you do when they turn around and go against all of that?

It’s a fair point, right? But everyone says the same. They’re your children. There’s no other explanation needed. They don’t always disappoint you. Sometimes they make you proud.

I’m still not convinced.

But I guess it’s the same with siblings. Sometimes they go against all the values you hold, they might steal from you and betray you, but you just can’t give up on them. So what about step-siblings? Surely the same should be true?

When two families (especially grown up ones) come together, it’s so difficult.

After a lot of thought, I think I’ve come to the conclusion that only time will help us to become one big family. Instead of ‘your’ traditions and ‘our’ traditions, we’ll just have ‘the’ tradition at Christmas. And hopefully that will follow through to everything else.

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My new year’s resolution last year was to give up chocolate. It was a bit of a silly one, but I did it. I had some truffles on NYE, bloody amazing. I fucking love chocolate. I can see why I was eating it as a ‘meal’ – hence the giving it up part. This year, I’ve decided not to have an abstinence type resolution. Not doing something is relatively easy. Actively doing something is another matter. And much harder. So, this year, I’m going to try my best to drink a pint of water a day. Those who have spent a lot of time with me will know that I don’t drink enough water at all, way below average I’d say, and average is way below what you *should* be drinking. I know I won’t be able to drink litres and litres (which is probably what they recommend you drink), but 1 pint a day, I think I can manage that.

I’m running out of steam now so I’ll leave this blog entry here. Phil and John are in Sheffield so I think we should do something interesting. It might only be as interesting as a trip to ASDA.

There’s load more I could write about, NYE, Tom Brown… but we’ll save that for next time.

Until then,

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