Blurb

idk

I’ve had a lot of jobs in my relatively short life. You know how lots of authors have those blurbs on their dust jackets? The ones that go Blah Blah has been a teacher, gymnastics instructor, waitress, tight-rope walker, singer, and for one horrifying day she was mistaken for an architect. She has written for TV, radio and film. This is her 16th book. She lives with her husband and their three cats in London. Yeah. That’s been my life, except without the successful writing career, or the cats, or London.  

Once, when I was changing jobs for the 700^th time, I actually thought about what my blurb might look like on a book and got all excited imagining it. It will sound so interesting, I thought, like I’ve really lived a life. The only problem with this fantasy, of course, is that I’ve never written anything longer than a few thousand words, and any time I’ve ever had an idea for a novel, I’ve been too impatient to actually write it. So the chances of me having a dust jacket blurb are pretty slim. Regardless, I’m going to write my own blurb, right now, just to show off my many and varied roles, in order.

Lizzy King has been a purveyor of fine donuts, a serviced office receptionist, a receptionist for an OBGYN, a generally grumpy barista, unemployed, a cleaner, a stage manager, production manager and lighting operator, she’s been an admin assistant for a music department, a student assistant, a glorified roadie, a production coordinator for an arts venue, a conference centre coordinator and receptionist again. For a few horrible months she was an assistant accountant. Now she is a teacher aide, education student and blogger. She lives in Dalby with her partner, Boyfriend, and their imaginary animal friends. She has never written a book.

So yeah. There’s a lot of jobs in there, and almost all of them paid me. The good news is that education feels different. For the first time in my life I am doing something that feels right all the time. Even when it’s hard, it feels right. And it’s been such an amazing experience; I’m kind of kicking myself for not doing it earlier.  The other good news is that I have this really weird, broad range of experiences, most of which involved being quite organised, pretty switched on and not freaking out about the unexpected. So you know… things that are pretty important when teaching.

Sure, I’m flighty, sure I infuriate my parents, yes, I could probably stand to stick things out a bit more, but in my 10 years in the big, scary world of work, I’ve gotten almost every job I’ve applied for, I’ve learnt new things a million times over, and I’ve gained a whole lot of XP. I spent ten years trying a whole lot of things in an attempt to find where I really want to be. It was a process of elimination, but I feel like I’ve found it. And besides, if I ever do write that novel, my blurb will be awesome.

Please share your blurbs in comments. Out do me. Go on.

 

I just spent at least 5 minutes looking up why teachers are always depicted with apples.

News:

Next month is Potentially ProblematicOpinions Month. During this themed month, Alex Neill writes about things that are potentially problematic, and this year she’s asked other people to join in. So I am! However, next month will also include some pretty crazy uni stuff and professional experience at an actual school so I’m giving myself the option to not blog sometimes if necessary. So stay tuned for possible, potentially problematic opinion blogs and stressed out crying. 

Weather with you

Weather happens every god damn day, whether you want it to or not. Whether you weather the weather or whether you don’t, it’s always there. And yet we humans talk about the weather like it’s going out of fashion. Or more accurately, like it’s the height of fashion.  We can’t get ENOUGH of weather talk. It’s too cold, it’s so hot, can’t get over the frost this morning, did you hear we’re in for a storm? What’s with these clouds, eh?

There are a million, million jokes about talking about the weather; it’s the cliché, the standard filler, only boring people talk about weather. For some people it’s highly relevant; farmers, fishers, tornado hunters – they all need to know, discuss and go on about it. But what the fuck are the rest of us doing?

Sure, it’s easy small talk, the kind of stuff you can pull out with coworkers you don’t know that well, or neighbours, vaguely related family members and members of religious faiths who won’t get off your doorstep, but I think it’s more than that.

Since moving from my hometown, almost every single member of mine and Boyfriend’s families have mentioned that they look at the weather forecast for Dalby on a regular basis. We’re no longer in town, no longer united by Brisbane weather, so they keep an eye on our weather. There’s no logic to this, if it’s cold here, they aren’t going to call us up and remind us to wear a scarf, but they just like to know. I still check the Brisbane weather all the time; it’s comforting in a weird way.

I think we talk about the weather because it’s one of the few observable, unambiguous things that unites us. No one can say whether we all experience life in the same way; do we love the same way, hate the same way, find the same things funny? How can we be sure that other people even think the same way, or about the same things as us? We can’t. But we sure as hell all know what it’s like to get rained on, to feel hot, to scream and then giggle at our own fear when lightning strikes a little too close for comfort.

So every morning, you probably look up the forecast online, or catch it on the news. You probably make a comment about it to someone you live with. Failing all that, you at least stand on your front steps and judge whether or not you’re going to need a cardi. And once you’ve gleaned this information, you probably go to work or uni or whatever, and mention it to someone there. “I thought it was going to be freezing this morning, but now I’m boiling, damn it I did not need this cardi!” And in your mind you might think, “geez what a boring conversationalist I am” – but remember, you’re just connecting yourself to the rest of humanity. All you’re doing is saying “LOOK I AM JUST LIKE YOU. WE ARE THE SAME. HOW SHIT IS SWEAT?!” You’re just participating in the great small talk of life, and there’s nothing so wrong with that.

What’s with these clouds, eh?