UEB: Unemployment Espresso Bar

Before reading this, I have an assignment for you; go get a cup of coffee. Or tea. And a spoon; no, it doesn't matter if you drink it without sugar. Just do it. Please.
Ready?
Monday was the first day of the rest of my unemployment life. Although I hope it has an expirydate, it was so special, it deserves it's own blog.
The world, or better yet, the office is divided on the matter, but words like 'brave' and 'gutsy' (the women) were more used than 'crazy' or 'stressfull'. Because it is something else, giving up a set contract with steady income for... well, nothing concrete yet. But the freedom I felt on monday was incredible.
I sat in the Urban Espresso Bar stirring in my glass of cafe Latte and it hit me:'this is all I'm doing; stirring honey. With a spoon. In some milky coffee'. You should try it (see, there was a point to the assignment, I'll give you a few moments).
It doesn't get more 'NOW' than that. No worries about self-imposed to-do lists, deadlines, dishes, the judicial system or even Japan. Just stirring coffee.

Off course I don't plan on spending the next few weeks or months or God forbid, years doing nothing but meeting up for coffee and taking up space in the UEB. On second thought, I could live with 'weeks', though. But for now it's lovely; I feel relaxed, full of ideas, I'm getting my head round my future. For now.
Hook thinks it's hilarious. Apparently I said I wasn't going to do anything (no letters, no job agencies, nothing) for two weeks. Today is wednesday and I already worked my ass off on a large event in Ahoy, re-installed my Mac, attended my fabulous leaving-do, wrote two letters in addition to the dozen I wrote in the last few months. Unfortunately I received an equal amount of rejections. But in all fairness I'm not schooled as a communication expert, staffing employee or web-editor. And some of them are probably right when they turn me down 'because they are afraid I'll be bored shortly' and 'I'm overqualified'. In addition to that, I explained my disastrous meetings with temp-agencies in a previous blog (the NUT). I'm not worried yet, but ask me again in 3 months time.
Secretly I'm hoping for an experience like Renee Zellweger. Rumour has it that she worked in an office in order to prepare for her role as Bridget Jones. I would love to do the same, but than to get some inspiration (or should I say: dirty workplace secrets) for my Criminology freelance project; the Right Trace. But for now, I've got places to go (Prague and Russia), coffee-cups to stir and blogs to write.

Thereasily entertained

I always knew I was easy to entertain. As an ex-boyfriend of mine pointed out when we were having the 'this isn't going to work'-conversation: "We have nothing in common. You are just happy sitting in the park with your friends eating french stick with cheese. It doesn't take much to make you happy". I still wonder what his point was, but at that moment he reduced a virtue greatly appreciated by my parents when I was a child ('here honey, have some paper and crayons.' 'Whoehoe! Fun!') to something questionable.
Of course I laughed at him, shook my head and blocked him from my MSN-list.
The same goes for my opinion on movies. Friends have stopped asking me whether I like a film or not, because I usually do. There is always an actor, scene or musical fragment that I appreciate. As long as I don't fall asleep, it's a decent film. Accept for David Lynch: I do not like his work, sorry. (Warning to my friends: this is open for debate, but not discussion; I gave up on Lynch as soon as that blue box hit Mullholland Drive.) I like anything that moves and do not discriminate on genre.

So when I heard the magic words 'Glitterclub, Wipneus and Pim', the 19-year old locked inside me, went 'Whoehoe! Fun!', because I hadn't seen those two dj's in twelve years. Just give me an Indian headband, a room filled with balloons and a technicolor plastic palmtree and I'm good to go. I didn't realise how good, untill the dj needed someone from the audience to come on stage and be the fourth member of the Village People. I found it necessary to scream 'ME!', jump up and down with my finger up in the air. Proud as a parrot, having waited years for this moment, I was invited to join a cowboy, a cop and a builder.
On stage, with previously mentioned Indian feathered hat strapped proudly around my head, I realised, while doing the YMCA shapes, that my new H&M dress, really wasn't so much a dress as more of an elongated shirt. My YMCA dance moves involved some extra gestures; mainly pulling down my black silk shirt-dress... That didn't stop me from shaking it for all I was worth.
According to Tanja, nobody saw a thing and for the rest of the night we were dancing, and playing with whatever came out of Wipneus and Pims toychest; balloons, air-guitars, whistles and cheesy songs.

It doesn't take much to make me happy, but friends and glitter make it even better!