I’m going to split this entry into two sections. The Unboring section and the Boring section. The Unboring section is a food related musing because I am spending money on two things: Food (living/moving expenses also) and Investing towards my Art. The Boring section is me nagging about people who are far too old not to have watched a few videos on YouTube about basic manners (you know, “Good morning” or “Good afternoon” – the kind of thing I had to greet teachers with at school) or “please” and “thankyou” – nothing especially difficult or ground breaking or even tiresome if you’re being paid to talk to strangers.

Unboring:
Imagine if we somehow found a new means of acquiring energy specifically for heating homes by using the chemical structures found in chilli. The skin isn’t hot to touch but the flesh and seeds are. A heating structure that didn’t burn as chemicals or flames do, but altered body temperature. I recall reading something about a scientist sort who found that crystals could be used to generate electricity – not long after I wrote on my site that crystals don’t give energy but magnify it. After meditating with my guide HH.

Boring:
I went to the Job Centre today. I multi-tasked. I woke up… and painted a digital portrait that I think’ll go well towards my portfolio for Costume Design.

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I pulled on my Bloch tights, a shirt, a BLAZER (I know… Marge Simpson in the Chanel Suit – but it was a *really* fancy-edgy one with chains on it, like the ones in my London College of Fashion sketchbook), did a messy bun (because I mean I need to be a BIT edgy to not hate myself) and my office Vamp heels. Life hack – if you don’t have room for moisturiser in your bag, stuff a lipgloss in there for dry skin.

I spent my last tenner ordering cabs to the Job Centre and back, because I struggle with navigation (dyspraxia is SUCH a bitch – even if you know the way somewhere you have to do the walk a few times or you have anxiety the whole way there and when it comes to employment or discussions regarding employment – I have always tried to remove myself from the Karina that can’t prepare pancakes.) and I was terrified I’d be late for my first appointment, because I had to make brunch for myself. (A salad and bacon)

I didn’t have time to eat it so I put it in tupperware, I wrapped it in baking parchment and even fastened it with a string. (How cute/domestic goddess is that?) (I’ve been obsessing over bento boxes) (when I was younger I once went on one of those holiday activity camps and I recalled seeing these AZN princesses eating their beautiful lunches out of a perfect bento box with chopsticks and I felt like a pleb with my turkey, tomato and lettuce sandwiches) It was like the lady at the Job Centre KNEW I had the fanciest lunch ever because she did not want me to eat it there. I’ll explain in a sec.

I asked the lady at the Job Centre if she’d mind me using their internet while I ate at a seating area. I was starving. Apparently it would’ve been a tremendous inconvenience for the Job Centre staff to leave me there unattended when they were so close to having luncheon.
I wanted to get the address for “Bearded Bros Removals” to get my £500 pound refund but I was so offended by the abrupt manner of the lady I was introduced to, that I didn’t want to spend an extra second in there. Childish, I know.
She repeated a word I knew wasn’t in her vocabulary, that I had learned from a hacker slash babysitter (and not the other way around) – do you *stares at lady that looks like this monster*

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Did you think that by reading our private conversations, and using words he taught you, and giving me rude and uninvited instructions – that you could have a child like him? He is an actual sociopath – and that is a terrible idea. It’s fine, everyone knows it’s possible and I don’t think you’ve any idea how many people have access to my memories. You’ve embarrassed yourself for the rest of your life. However long that might be.

No but, really, she was kind of trying to order me around. I’m going to offer you an alternative to: “Go sit over there” (do you remember that voice that Katie Hopkins used for “OI TYLER COME ‘ERE”? It was a watered down version of that. And it WAS insulting that someone like that could try to patronisingly get me to read a list of things on a computer screen she pivoted – a good forty five degrees – surely she could’ve read them aloud herself?) can be replaced with “Might I suggest you take a seat over there, please” or “you are welcome to take a seat over there”. (Whatever feels less awkward, I asked to sit at a huge seating area that had no one sitting there and she wanted me to sit at the entrance – I imagine because she thought I’d feel embarrassed but you’ve no idea how difficult it is to make someone like me feel embarrassed.) (I know she had her thoughts that way inclined because she clearly thought I ought to be embarrassed explaining I sometimes have a disability where I don’t shit for weeks.)

I love Brighton, more than I think I realise at this point in time – but I think that a lot of people here don’t have manners. Manners are something you can learn though.

I was sent a minicab driver (this is something you learn to differentiate in London – TAXIS are licensed black cabs – the terrifically designed fancy ones that tourists get in central London. Minicabs are… all the other kinds of cars you hop into when you need to get somewhere fast.) who arrived in a fucking party bus. For a five minute journey. I was in absolute shock that they could have dispatched a monster truck for a five minute journey, and that in the duration of two minutes I received two or three? phone calls from the driver who claimed it was because the other cars were giving him a hard time. As I entered the car I wasn’t even greeted with a returned “good afternoon”, instead he immediately started complaining. I lost my temper and said “I HAD NO IDEA YOU’D TURN UP IN A FUCKING VAN” – he kicked me out of his minivan. If a man had said something similar, especially when he was clearly in a rush to attend a serious appointment – he would not have DARED to kick him out. He got upset because I swore – I said “I DO CURSES, YOU JUST GOT ONE”. Thats such a fancy way of saying “I SWEAR” and I’ve no idea where it came from but how fantastic.

The second guy they sent over – what a mess – he looked a complete fool scanning a ten pound note to see if it was genuine. It is not difficult to subtly regard a note, especially the new ones, in pure day light, in the front of a car. Unless you have terrible eye sight – in which case you should not be driving at ALL. Of course he was trying to be mean but he doesn’t know that I’m Gnorga the QUEENE OF MEAN –

when I’m pissed off. I cannot with even the minutest accuracy convey how upset he got that I didn’t want him to touch me to hand over my change, he is the second driver in Brighton to have a legitimate and explosive temper tantrum that I didn’t want to touch him. I might film the next one.

 

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