I've been watching David Mitchell's Soapbox for the majority of tonight. He described himself as a comedian, actor and writer.
A writer. What constitutes a writer? Do you have to write a screen-play or witty articles in an underground magazine to be a writer, or does composing random tweets every day make you one? In that case, the majority of the world are writers! Actually, no, all apart from illiterate people are. Not saying that everyone apart from illiterates have Twitter, no. I mean that seeing as Twitter has limited characters, some of the tweets are rather short. Actually, there are tweets often only consisting of one word.
My train of thought was that if a Tweet could make you a writer, there are plenty of school-children who write random sentences and/or essays every day.
Naturally, as an egotistical human being I started wondering: Am I a writer?
I enjoy spitting out random ideas or thoughts, often rants, on this website I'd like to think was my own.
I never saw myself as a writer. I always saw myself as a weird teenager (for some reason will always be a teenager in my head (yeah, that's not a good sign. Run for your life)) who never fit in anywhere, striving to do just that.
However, lately I've discovered the wonders of drama. Not "O woe is me, he doesn't love me"-drama (which I am an avid fan of, as you probably could imagine (I would like to point out the sarcasm in that, to make sure you are without a shadow of a doubt of this matter)), but Theatre-drama.
So naturally I started thinking of myself as an actor.
They say that in the world of drama (I'm guessing that goes well for both drama-queen-drama and theatre-drama) it's good to be a little weird, so that kind of just slid out of my concious identity frame.
Now, however... Am I suddenly a writer too? Can you be too much? Isn't that rather egotistical, to take up too many of the identifiable "titles"?
When is it the point of ridiculous?
Say you're an actor. But you also like to play an instrument, write sonnets to the neighbours cat and collect stamps that you've discovered outside the post office dropped only by women with moustaches. Say you met someone new at a party, and they asked the thrilling question; "Who are you?"
Would you answer, "I'm an actor-musician-writer-philatelist with an unhealthy affection for my neighbours cat, women with moustaches and post offices" or the more sterile "actor, mate." with an obnoxiously proud sniff of the nose following?
I trailed off.
I guess I am a writer. A rather unimpressive writer with a fondness of parenthesis.
Tuesday 21 May 2013
Tuesday 14 May 2013
Customer service
Yep this is another one of those ranty blog posts.
Today, I went in to Debenchum (Name is made up to protect the people involved) to buy a dress I have been lusting over for a week.
I should add that I hate clothes-shopping with every fibre of my being, the fact that I actually had randomly spotted that dress whilst taking a shortcut through ..Debenchum.. was a small miracle in itself. No, I can honestly say that I would rather sleep in a haunted house with a very stab-happy ghost than to go shopping.
Naturally I wanted the item when I first found it.
That was my first mistake.
*DRAMATIC MUSIC*
So I asked a guy working there if it was on offer, as I was sure it had 20% off online. He said he'd ask and came back with a positive answer. Pleased to hear that I would get the pretty dress of awesomeness cheaper than I had anticipated, I danced into the changing rooms to find my size.
After a while of despairing over dress sizes and the general norm for today's society, I came out, victorious!
I headed for the blessed finish-line, the mouth of the cave, the emergency exit, the ex-hole, the ...till.
She scanned it, and wouldn't you know it.
Full price.
I carefully stuttered that the man had come back to tell me that it was, in fact, 20% off. The bitter old bat with skin like untreated leather promptly said "N0 wa1! EET EES one of DIS dresses, we do not do offers on dem, and da online store is diffrunt dan de sh0p!" (May have been exaggerated to sound more idiotic.) And I explained what happened, told her to go ask him and she said "all right", typed in a 20% reduced-thing, and I got ready to put in the card. Before I could do anything, she had pushed my hand down, forcing my card into the machine.
Excuse me?
Are you in a hurry?
Am I not moving in a pace that is adequate enough for you?
Did you say the machine was ready or were I to be expected to read your mind?
This was not very well received with my friend and classmate, who couldn't stop herself from making a bit of a displeased "what"-sound (the legend). The till-lady quickly picked up on that and said "D0 U HAS TEH PR0BLEM!?" and my friend said "No, it's nothing. It's not even my dress."
I didn't say much, because I just wanted to pay and get out of there at that point.
The lady suddenly yanked out my card of the reader, stated "I will check" and marched off.
I looked a little baffled in her direction. I didn't think I had been rude to her, to explain what the man said, to try and pay in my own pace (which was not slow! It was a normal "take card out, read the card reader and wait for the green light!") so I sort of just gave her co-worker a careful smile, with a hint of "oh dear" in it.
She came back with a triumphant face saying "N0PE! Full price 4 u SUCKER!".
I looked disappointed at it, because, well, I was. Seriously considering not to buy it, but I wouldn't let that fucking cunt win! Ho-no.
So I bought it. She asked me if I wanted a Debenchum card to get 10% off, and I said "sure" just to piss her off. She asked me what I did for a living and I truthfully responded that I was a student... Now, I wish I had said I was a lawyer or something. Because that lady did not seem student-friendly. "You can't shop here, because you aren't rich enough." Joke's on her. It wasn't even that expensive.
She didn't get me one. A card, I mean. Nor did she even attempt to remember it... Unless that was her age's fault of course.
I have never met a cashier with a Better Than You syndrome before.
It pissed me off.
It's nearly to that point now, where I want to apply for a job there just to piss her off.
What a cunt.
Today, I went in to Debenchum (Name is made up to protect the people involved) to buy a dress I have been lusting over for a week.
I should add that I hate clothes-shopping with every fibre of my being, the fact that I actually had randomly spotted that dress whilst taking a shortcut through ..Debenchum.. was a small miracle in itself. No, I can honestly say that I would rather sleep in a haunted house with a very stab-happy ghost than to go shopping.
Naturally I wanted the item when I first found it.
That was my first mistake.
*DRAMATIC MUSIC*
So I asked a guy working there if it was on offer, as I was sure it had 20% off online. He said he'd ask and came back with a positive answer. Pleased to hear that I would get the pretty dress of awesomeness cheaper than I had anticipated, I danced into the changing rooms to find my size.
After a while of despairing over dress sizes and the general norm for today's society, I came out, victorious!
I headed for the blessed finish-line, the mouth of the cave, the emergency exit, the ex-hole, the ...till.
She scanned it, and wouldn't you know it.
Full price.
I carefully stuttered that the man had come back to tell me that it was, in fact, 20% off. The bitter old bat with skin like untreated leather promptly said "N0 wa1! EET EES one of DIS dresses, we do not do offers on dem, and da online store is diffrunt dan de sh0p!" (May have been exaggerated to sound more idiotic.) And I explained what happened, told her to go ask him and she said "all right", typed in a 20% reduced-thing, and I got ready to put in the card. Before I could do anything, she had pushed my hand down, forcing my card into the machine.
Excuse me?
Are you in a hurry?
Am I not moving in a pace that is adequate enough for you?
Did you say the machine was ready or were I to be expected to read your mind?
This was not very well received with my friend and classmate, who couldn't stop herself from making a bit of a displeased "what"-sound (the legend). The till-lady quickly picked up on that and said "D0 U HAS TEH PR0BLEM!?" and my friend said "No, it's nothing. It's not even my dress."
I didn't say much, because I just wanted to pay and get out of there at that point.
The lady suddenly yanked out my card of the reader, stated "I will check" and marched off.
I looked a little baffled in her direction. I didn't think I had been rude to her, to explain what the man said, to try and pay in my own pace (which was not slow! It was a normal "take card out, read the card reader and wait for the green light!") so I sort of just gave her co-worker a careful smile, with a hint of "oh dear" in it.
She came back with a triumphant face saying "N0PE! Full price 4 u SUCKER!".
I looked disappointed at it, because, well, I was. Seriously considering not to buy it, but I wouldn't let that fucking cunt win! Ho-no.
So I bought it. She asked me if I wanted a Debenchum card to get 10% off, and I said "sure" just to piss her off. She asked me what I did for a living and I truthfully responded that I was a student... Now, I wish I had said I was a lawyer or something. Because that lady did not seem student-friendly. "You can't shop here, because you aren't rich enough." Joke's on her. It wasn't even that expensive.
She didn't get me one. A card, I mean. Nor did she even attempt to remember it... Unless that was her age's fault of course.
I have never met a cashier with a Better Than You syndrome before.
It pissed me off.
It's nearly to that point now, where I want to apply for a job there just to piss her off.
What a cunt.
Wednesday 1 May 2013
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