i'm bored to tears! looking through ucas.com for suitable courses on journalism, while everywhere i look it says "there's no definite way to get into journalism! some people begin with only A levels, but lately more graduates are looking into this feild" well fantabbydozey, i couldnt care less, i want to know if i'm going to waste 3 years of my life and god knows how many thousands of pounds by going to uni when i could just jump on the wagon straight after my A levels? it doesnt even say that grads start higher up, some even say that some unfortunate grads come out and still cant get employed, *grits teeth* so what am i meant to do now?! i'm about to email my local paper to kiss arse and see if i cant get me a little place in their local office even if it's making tea until my results come thru.i need this industry and this industry sure as hell needs me.
i cant remember the last time i made an entry here, but friday i forgot to eat and got ID'd for my cigarettes!! good lord, honestly, it went something like this:
i put my Buxton Sparkling Water on the counter and rummaged through my bag for my wallet and said "10 Mayfair lights, please" i was polite and i'm health aware, and also poor, if you hadnt noticed already.
"that's sparkling water." she tells me as if i'm the biggest imbecile she's ever come across.
"yes, i know that." i'm tired and irritable so i look at her as if she's the daftest thing on two legs.
she's got my cigarettes in her hand and i really need one right now. she thins out her lips and looks annoyed. great.
"how old are you?" she asks.
i'm still looking for my purse, slowly realising that as you get older you do turn into your mother and your purse does become impossible to find. i hear this odd rendition of the english language reverbrating in my ears and look up confused, furrowing my eyebrows.
"what?" i asked back, looking at her as if she was an alien. this question, this "how old are you?" question has never sat well on me, first of all, i dont expect it because i dont try and buy things i'm not legally allowed to buy and secondly, if i dont think i look old enough who will, THIRDLY, most people think i'm about 22 so i've never really thought about it.
it's about 8am, i need a cigarette, i'm being asked questions, no one does that to me in the morning, no body in their right minds asked me questions in the morning. because i dont know any of the answers.
"how old are you?"
"uh.. guh.. i'm 17." jesus christ! you moron! how can you forget how old you are?!!! fucking hell Fallon, even when you're lying you're not normally that slow.
"do you have any ID?"
"what?!"
"do have any ID? with your picture and age on it?"
"i've got my credit card, my NI card, uhm... no, not with pics, but i'm always in here, ask any of your staff and they'll tell you how old i am" that's right baby, you cop an attitude, that'll get you far.
"okay then, but next time, you need to bring ID"
"i dont believe this" i huff, because i dont. "oh wait a minute, yeah i do! i have my train pass" i smirk, rummaging through my bag for a final time, my hand springs out of the black leather, gripping a battered British Rail wallet that i practically launch at her face, "that has my date of birth!"
the wallet lands half open with a �1 coin peeking out of it, the woman stares at me and pokes the money, "there is money there" and i'm thinking "well fuck me, call the papers, you really are Einstein, aren't you?"
"it's also got my age in it, look"
"okie, that'll be �2.46 please"
"thank you." i say handing her my money. i walk out of the shop and light up.
the things we do for tobacco.
almost makes you wanna give up.
<<|>>
--------- e v e r y t h i n g b u t t h e g i r l ---------
Reflection - 2008-07-19
sleep vs awake - 2008-07-19
It's like space cadet, but not. - 2006-06-22
Lucky Me - 2006-05-13
In memory - 2006-01-15
