~le tumbleweed~

My promises of active blogging didn't exactly ring true last week as we can all see - but living a life of doing the same thing for months on end never brings in much inspiration. The problem is when I will be doing something, aka. heading back to Wellington on the 22nd Feb, it'll be madness and the last thing I'll feel like doing is sitting and typing out some little never-to-be-read sermon about my repetitive life. I've been working lately and just generally being cute. Went to Marahau for a night last week as my parents spent a week there, which was pretty cute. Shame the weather was gloomy - but I powered through a novel, have picked up where I was reading in John Marsden's 'The Tomorrow Series' - my fave series ever, which has been nice. Funnily enough it was last summer that I was reading the previous book, but fortunately due to having read the series before it wasn't too tricky to remember what I'd forgotten.

Currently listening to Lana Del Rey, my latest music obsession. I kept seeing her name and face on Tumblr (and rarely on Twitter) and kept thinking "Ugh another basic bitch, but with a cute retro look" but then I FINALLY decided to check out her music after The Prophet Blog (which I die for) reviewed her music positively, so figured giving her a listen was great. Am only an entry-level fan currently, her songs "Video Games", "Blue Jeans" and the album title song "Born to Die" are pretty flawless. Her voice is pretty alty, and different from the ultra perfected vocals so popular in pop music today and criticism towards her is usually revolved around this, but I don't care and I love her and her look and I intend to legally purchase her album as I'd love her to do well and release more music in the future.

New manager at work today was cute - an older woman but she was sweet and beat out the over-80 applicants who tried for the job, pretty crazy really, and even though it's a full-time job I'm pretty sure the job is on wages, not a salary so... it really can't be paying that much. Maybe like $16? Possibly even less? But it just painted a sad tale of the rough times - easy to forget that people are really struggling to find work. Though at the same time it's a pretty cute little store I've been working in lately, and a nice environment and not too much fuss so fair enough it was popular. But 80+ applicants! Sheesh. Count my lucky stars that I can afford university, to live away from home and to live in a (very overpriced, FFFFUUUU Wellington CBD prices) $170-a-week apartment. God it's gonna be tiny.

Dying to get back to Wellington but also a bit nervous because I need to job hunt and you know what the most shameful thing ever is? Well, one of them? JOB HUNTING. Waltzing into stores with your flimsy CV drifting over to some doe-eyed bimbo who miraculously landed a job at the very place you'd like to work asking "Can I speak to the manager?" and then having to wait awkwardly while some gum-chewing, intimidating senior staff member saunters in your direction with a smug "Yes?" look on their face. It really is just a little bit too much. Unfortunately these are the lengths one most go to, and in the city of Wellington the competition's tough and I'd assume few jobs would already exist. Fortunately I do have three flawless years of service to three stores under one company and a manager who I hope would spare some charming thoughts about my work ethic so I might be in with a chance! So wish me luck - having some experience under my belt sure will help. Yay for 16-year-old-me sacrificing my Saturdays purely to have enough money to buy wax strips and fake tan (literally what I bought with my first pay check, $83 I think it was. I thought I was rich! Sure beat my $25 a fortnight from my parents).

Time to head back to the lounge and read my book, 'Milkweed' by Jerry Spinelli, which I'm reading since I don't have the next book in 'The Tomorrow Series' (which everyone needs to read, 'Harry Potter' and 'Twilight' can suck it). Must say the book I dandily picked off the book shelf at the public library (which again reminded me of how lucky I was - middle of a week day and HOARDES of dopey teens lolling around on the computers and reading magazines, apparently jobs aren't a happening thing in this small town). ANYWAY - the book has wound up being a depressing story about a young gypsy orphan in Warsaw during the holocaust in WWII. So miserable! But so addictive. It'd be selfish of me to not fully understand the suffering of those who endured those times and to not learn a lesson from them. The thing I love about those raw tales is that, even for a short while, you snap out of your vain, self-obsessed life and can just take in the picture of what life is about. If I had a poetic bone in my body I'd write something touching right now, but sadly, unlike this rambling rant, it's something I can only think about - my writing skills have a long way to go before they're anywhere near resembling something that could be called "refined". What a long-winded way to say that. Time to peace out I'm thinking. Bye babez. x0x0