Stuck in work. This is the second to last shift at the internet place. The place is rammed, due to the Bank’s going on holiday. The only appreciable difference to me is more high pitched squealing all around, and a promise of ‘a bit more money’, on pay day. This is good as I’ve already had to sub the majority of this weeks wages so I can afford to live until payday.
It was a busy weekend, the sea witch was down (which was lovely in extremis by the way), I was hungover for lots (ssh…don’t tell work), and I DJed at my first paid gig (unfortunately, the cost of organisation, plus one broken needle, plus the fact that the Kaveman forgot to pay me the cash before he went back to London, means that in fact, I’m operating at what feels like a loss (actually even-ness has been broken).
Anyway, read Thom Yorke’s interview with Ken Livingstone, which definitely reinvigorated my support for ‘Red Ken’ as probably not being an absolute wanker, even when he comes across as one most of the time. Boris Johnson remains as detached from reality as ever. The idea of him having actual power would be hilarious if I didn’t occasionally visit the potential seat of his power. I do not want to touch his seat, even though a part of me loves his idiotic charm. I would like to have a pet miniature version of him, but I don’t want him making decisions that have any chance of affecting me. Any chance whatsoever.
Anyway, anger was sparked by the talk about Porsche lobbying against the proposed increased Congestion Charge type thing on high emmission vehicles.
Porsche has already mounted a legal challenge, as it produces only two cars that would not be hit by the charge, while its Cayenne Turbo is one of the most polluting vehicles, with 378g CO2/km, four times the level of the lowest-emission diesel car, the VW Polo Blue Motion.
Presumably their legal challenge is based on the assumption that ‘that’s soooooo unfair, I mean, it’s almost as if you’re trying to encourage us to use our vast mountains of cash, and our high tech R&D departments to make ego masturbation devices that don’t also fuck over the world we live on. I mean, what the fuck is that?’
I am riled. Basically, the whole point of taxes on anything that damages the environment is to make them seem less popular, and by extension change the demand for them. Maybe, if we’re lucky they’ll actually change their business practices and try and build something sexy enough to appeal to their rich, image obsessed customer base, that would satisfy Jeremy Clarkson’s urge for adolescent satisfaction of primal urges with essentially nonsense metaphors whilst not pumping shit into our atmosphere.
Just an idea.
Elsewhere, we have a child (in my shop, I’d guess about 13-1 years old) wearing a T-shirt belittling women, reducing them to status not just of objects but actually beneath objects (three images, one of a man and a woman together, one of a man with two women, and one with a man playing on a computer console, the legend labels each image in turn as ‘Good, Better, Best’. If it wasn’t for the fact that I feel there is an undertone that belittles the wearer as someone so terrified of human contact that they only enjoy playing with themselves, I would probably have set fire to it. In fact, I probably should have, as it’s that kind of belittlement and behaviour that no doubt leads to the sort of sexual aggression and domination that is completely strangling our society. I should’ve set fire to that kid.)
In other, and hopefully entirely unrelated news, I’m terrified of my new job.
I have to learn about the intricacies of the National Curriculum (currently a moving target at best), education in general, all manner of Health and safety, child protection, human resources and just about everything else, plus management techniques and all that entails, in about a week.
Step one: Setting fire to kids, or anyone, is wrong.
Guess I shoulda thought of that.
But seriously. I have a lot to learn, I have to be on the ball straight away, and I need to take responsibility for a couple of hours a day, for a number of little, tiny lives.
And the problem with small people, is that there very smallness increases their future potential.
I really, really want to do them justice.
I rambled on in the interview about how important education inside and out of school is important, and I managed to avoid the phrase screaming in my head ‘I believe the children are our future’. It would’ve been tantamount to saying girl power and making a peace sign as I left.
And I believe it. That’s the worst thing. I actually believe that teaching kids to learn, giving them space to be themselves and discover the true meaning of Christmas all by themselves (I look away for the screen for five seconds and when I turn back all I can think of is meaningless tangents). Doing that, providing a space where kids learn, where they can feel safe and welcome and that they, to some extent, own, will give them confidence and knowledge and strength for their whole lives.
There’s the potential here to change lives for the better.
And I’ve jsut got to do it.
Somewhere between thirty and seventy percent of me (depending on varying atmospheric conditions, the shape of the moon, direction of prevailing winds and the size and tastiness of my breakfast) reckons I can do it. Right now that’s at a low point, and I’m trapped by fear. I have to manage this fear by the time I get in there. I’ve got to battle for this one. I’ve got to get my war on (Total War, in fact….gearing my entire economy towards one purpose, so to speak).
I’ve got to bring it.
I’ve got to smell what the rock is cooking. Or something.
Oh, yeah, for those that don’t know. I got the job. The one I’m technically underqualified for. I steered myself in using my masterful manipulation of the facts and a sheer unbridled enthusiasm bought about by extreme confidence in the fact that I couldn’t possibly get this job, so there was no harm in trying.
Life’s funny, isn’t it.
So how do I do this. How do I learn to manage staff, to look after and think about young people. To become a learning and education professional. What does this entail.
I do not know. But I must find out.
I’m scared Toto. This isn’t Kansas any more.
Someone gave me responsibility. I’m thinking of running a sweepstake on how long it’ll take me to blow something up, or at least get a negative mention on national news.
I’ll give myself an optimistic month before anything really catastrophic happens.
That or within the first ten minutes.
Interesting times folks. Interesting times.
On the other hand:
You really can’t argue with that logic.