Good morning from a very sleepy Lucy! Or good afternoon/evening/witching hour depending on where you are!
Apologies for my radio silence for the last couple of weeks but they have been busy!
I did work experience at a publishing agency that I have mixed reviews for. They were very friendly, but when I arrived and I noticed that I was one of four people in the office, another of which was also an intern, I suddenly understood why they were so keen to have me – this is how the owner gets most of his labour done.
I wouldn’t have minded this, strange or not; work experience is work experience, it still holds up on a CV, but they had me doing things that people with years of experience in the industry and publishing degrees have to do.
One of my tasks was to transcribe a set of poems from the original text for a dyslexic poet, she was absolutely wonderful, and it is an experience that I will hold dear for years to come, and once her work is published I will absolutely be using some quotes in future blogs. But after transcribing it, a women in the office, under the guise of constructive feedback snipped at me for ten minutes about using too much punctuation in the poetry and the introduction not being perfect. She later said that it was because she saw potential in me, which is lovely, but calling something someone has spent an entire day typing out ‘stupid’ is not exactly constructive.
I went to a strict boarding school; I don’t need to be coddled or have my hand held, but if I’m doing labour for free at a level I am not trained for, I do not need to be undermined, especially since I spent the week sitting in someone’s attic.
That’s the other thing. I wasn’t overly surprised that it was a business being run from someone’s home, I was surprised at the layout. While most people work on the bottom floor and live on the top, this was the other way around. This meant that on my first day I was greeted by the sight of my boss-for-the-week’s bed, and despite the rest of the house being clean, the office belonged on an episode of hoarders. I have honestly been in student flats more professional than this man’s working space that he entertains prospective writers in. Seeing that man’s pubes in his home urinal is not an event I will be recovering from quickly. Let’s hope he doesn’t read this, I might need a reference from him at some point.
All in all, it was interesting spending time learning about how a publishing agency works, but because I was doing mostly clerical work I found it pretty boring. I definitely think writing is the way forward for me. But this brings me onto our next topic; that week was much worse than it should have been because my new antidepressants are making me so drowsy.
I have moved back up to Newcastle, had the obligatory night out, unpacked, started lectures and started panicking again. Nothing too out of the ordinary, except how sleepy I am.
I think it might have something to do with the way the medication is meant to work. It’s meant to act as an anti-anxiety drug too. The main issue with this is that at its peak, my anxiety made it impossible for me to function- I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, couldn’t work; I don’t remember big chunks of my worst anxiety period because I was so unwell mentally. But at the other end of the spectrum, the manageable but present one, it meant that I panicked and got things done despite being in this cloud of depression. It’s a funny old world.
In other news, my mum thinks it’s my body catching up on sleep after nearly twenty-two years of insomnia. God. Nearly twenty-two. A week today I will be twenty-two. A literal adult. Older than an adult even. I can drink in the US and then some- I’ve got a year of breathing room on my driving license for that now.
What exciting thing am I doing for my birthday you ask? I am spending it at home with my parents- try to control your jealousy. My birthday has never been a big thing. It’s on Valentine’s Day and being perpetually single with friends who are perpetually not, means that I either end up with a night out after their romantic festivities, which is completely fine with me, in fact a couple of my friends in the last few years have foregone spending the day with their loved ones in favour of spending the day spoiling me- have I mentioned that I have fantastic friends? But even if I do end up doing something, everything and I mean literally everything is either booked or mad-busy.
Restaurants, clubs, cinemas, bars, libraries, haunted mansions; you name it, it’s busy or filled with couples snogging against any available flat surface. Maybe one day I’ll have a special someone to share this day with- like a pet tortoise or a hulu subscription, but not this year. If I were in a James Cameron movie, maybe. But the underfunded, pretentious thirty-five-year-old man who writes my life is not that kind. I should be nicer; the soundtrack’s pretty good.
Well that’s my update. I hope you liked the ramblings of a history student, drowsy from antidepressants and confused about work experience. From now on I’ll be updating every friday, or at least trying my best to, so watch this space. Also if anyone has had any similar experiences with antidepressants, please let me know in the comments or shoot me an email. I’d love to hear some feedback from people who have been through this entire process and how they handled it.
Happy National Fettuccine Alfredo Day!