who needs love when the sandwiches are wicked?

Today I got put onto monthly set pay, i.e. A Real Person's Salary. This is mostly important as it means I GET SICK PAY. I've never had that before. It also comes with a very slight increase in money. I believe the technical term is 'wahey'?

I am celebrating with wine and watching all the exciting TV I've been able to download. Downton Abbey is a lot more fabulous than I had expected from an ITV drama, I'll tell you that much.

Oh, god, salary, renting a house and watching period drama SHIT I THINK THIS PUSHES ME INTO BEING A GROWN-UP.

What, I ask you, what is the point of preparing an immaculate and beautiful CV if none of the compaies you are applying for never bloody use it? Why do they all have special and unique application forms, many of which involve writing exercises, one of which is notably about Jeremy Clarkson, of all things.

I got paid today. That was quite exciting and meant I could go and do my food shopping, amongst other things. However, the amount I got paid made me realise how much I dearly look forward to the days in the future (oh, god, hopefully) when I will be earning a full time wage that doesn't have the phrase 'nat. min. wage' in the application form. And, you know, I can cook a meal with chicken in it more than once every two weeks. Truly, I have some fabulous expectations in life...!

Today I hauled myself out of bed super-early for Christmas Ball tickets. Four hours in the cold later I had tickets, which is jolly good except for the fact I'm still cold now. No one passed out, although I did spend the entire four hours with one scarf around my head and my Jayne hat perched on top in a sort of jaunty angle.

Came home, ate lunch, prepared myself thoroughly, and sat down to deal with some online stuff for FastStream. I was good in the practice test at the verbal reasoning, and I was shite at the maths. I had maths lessons to make up for it and everything. So I went and sat down and did it, and I fell completely to pieces during the verbal reasoning and the maths I could actually do when I sat down and thought about it logically but in twenty-five minutes I only did about eight questions, and my rubbish verbal reasoning isn't going to make up for that. My results are 'pending' and I will know mid-December if I can, you know, submit an application form. OH LUCKY ME. I don't know why I'm bothering, I'm completely underqualified and bloody thick at anything useful anyway. I hope the maths for the less-good bits of civil service is less hard. Stupid ambitions. I've never even had a job in an office, for goodness sake, I'd probably never cope in the Home Office.

I have to write 1000 words for my essay today to keep me on track, but I also have DocSoc this evening and Muppet Christmas Carol afterwards and I just want to go back to bed and try not to contemplate that I am unprepared for the job market and also, you know, I am now both physically and mentally exhausted. Instead of doing either of these things I am wailing on LJ.

Fuck it, I am going back to bed. I probably should have power-napped before, you know, taking a test that determines my future. I was awake before I sat down to take it. At least my essay might be half decent?

[eta: computer crashed, won't turn back on, obviously I hadn't yet backed up either my essay or my dissertation. In library having breakdown trying very hard not to cry.]

Today I have successfully got through the first stage of a graduate scheme I quite fancy. It cheerfully informed me my test results were in the top 45%, which is pretty good considering it involved maths and at one point me clutching my head and howling about how I hated fuckng percentages. Anyway. There are about eight stages, so my hopes are not up, but hey ho. I feel like those people do in X Factor when they go running out of the double doors and hug Dermot O'Leary. I went to do my laundry instead. Such is life.

I have also put pen to paper (metaphorically) with my dissertation. This is really frightening.

Of course, I also spent all day yesterday sorting out Raisin costumes for my six (six!) children, which involved painting t-shirts and making masks with a look of concentration more suitable for a six year old. The results are similar to what a six year old might manage, so there we are. And this weekend involves an old fashioned kids party (but with more vodka) so I suppose I'm not growing up just yet.

So, I'm going to see the careers centre people on Wednesday to learn about CVs and applications and then after that I'm officially applying for the civil service.

OH DEAR LORD. I also have to, you know, find out the closing dates for applying for teaching and for various postgraduate schemes, but let's just concentrate on the fact that I have finally made a definite decision about applying for stuff. I almost know I won't get in, but it's a good start, right?

In other news, my back is so much better that I'm debating doing my ironing, and I've removed my pillow from the sofa downstairs. Truly, I am having a rock and roll Saturday. Later on I may order takeaway and watch reality TV all night in an attempt to ignore the real world.