cool beans:

The weekend has been a lull, one you know was meant to happen before the rage of a forthcoming storm. I knew if I couldn’t at least remember what I should be doing in order to prevent the workload from piling up in the next fortnight, I might as well chillax a little before the tempest. And what perfect weather for a lull. 

Victoria & Albert Museum, one of my all-time favourite places in Chelsea and possibly London. The first place I think of when I need a bit of perspective and alternative focus. Plus, it’s too darn hot to be sat in the cinema. I enter, actually putting in a donation for once by the door. I feel a slight twinge of regret when I realise how much the exhibition entrance costs. No worries. I’ll win the lottery soon. 

I won’t bore you with any definitions or descriptions of the works (or images, oops). Just some thoughts. This is the closest artistic and cultural movement kids of the 80s, 90s and Noughties can relate to. It was and still is a global philosophy. An optimistic acceptance (not defeat) that a uniform utopia doesn’t exist and that a plurality of competing ideas (in design and architecture particularly) can exist was key to postmodern thought. The height of the postmodern age saw the power of branding and display, and the mocking of classicism champion virtually all statements made through the art and politics of the time. Interesting ideas of artistic cannibalism and contradictions did in fact diversify and expand creativity. As a person who reasons to see the life lesson rather than the regret in a life-altering experience, this is certainly something I could relate to.

Postmodernism gained momentum and wealth. In the end, this encounter with the big bucks was its end. It grew out of eclecticism, feelings of rejection twinged with nostalgia and grew, spiralling outwards and out of control. The exhibition concluded with a truth: postmodernism is marked (almost necessarily) with a sense of destruction and loss, but also with the promise of an infinite of new possibilities.

For you who feel you are waiting at the borderline of an unknown world, already quietly objecting against fitting into any kind of mould there - and better still - have ideas of your own to change that world, you are postmodern artist yourself. 

Enlightenment, achieved. Benugo espresso and millionaire shortbread in the V&A quad, scoffed. This quad, if not the exhibition, is a must-visit!! 

I started the bank holiday weekend fantastically. It technically began at lunchtime on Friday. I’ve been haemorrhaging money ever since but at the expense of non-stop laughter and great company. Sunday afternoon I decide, might be a good time to staunch the bleeding. While I do, I pick up where I left off: trawling through the virtual sea of jobs board, sinking into the abyss of vacancy listings. (I apologise for spewing such contrived poetic language…it’s a desperate attempt to exercise the brain. Mush Prevention.)

Here’s one vacancy that I had the displeasure of wasting precious minutes of life and drool over.

…blah blah blah…then:

Minimum Qualifications

• Communications experience
• Strong knowledge of global development
• Flair for blogging and tweeting
• Excellent writing skills
• Relevant undergraduate degree
• International travel experience and a global mindset
• Passion for issues in global aid and international development
• At least 2 years of relevant work experience, preferably within the fields of media, communications, and global development

 1. Minimum qualifications. Really. I read on and ponder what the maximum number of qualifications I should have to be considered for this role. God forbid I fulfil the minimal requests, which by the way putting them all together don’t seem at all unattainable…NOT.

2. ‘Relevant undergraduate degree’. That’s nice. I suppose I’ll e-mail Mr Info@heresajobonlykidding.com to find out at my timely death that my degree is, sorry, was irrelevant.

3. ‘International travel experience and a global mindset’. No sympathy points here for using government loans to ‘secure’ this desirable ‘minimum qualification’?

4. When the hell did “entry-level” positions equal the completion of TWO YEARS of work experience?

Sigh. On to the next. C’est la merde.

Dedicated to my fellow interns, the Northerner jaunting off Parisian style and G.

…on The Morning Commute

The joy of reading on the Tube is something like no other. It’s not the most comfortable place in the world to escape into a world of fantasy, but the dull ambience of the morning commute through the tunnels certainly makes the journey of escape significantly more dramatic. It took only one day (my first day) of travelling to work to realise why people capitalise on tunnel time to catch the news or do some light reading. My journey luckily permits the availability of seating for at least a good 20 minutes for comfortable paper time. Otherwise I fidget, resisting the urge to people-watch (something that can only be done coolly and absent-mindedly in a cafe or an equally leisurely environment. Challenging criteria, I know).

I mentioned fantasy earlier. I’m referring to having re-read the last half of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows sat on the Tube. It was emotional. The story’s journey it seems, has come full circle - with me at least: Rowling conceived Potter on a train journey. I’m just saying.

I take out the book. It looks obvious, let’s not pretend. It’s biblically-proportioned. As in, the Bible - it actually looks like a Bible. There were of course some peering for a peek at the book cover, their faces dawning with undisguised, unsurprised looks; there was one double-take which was followed by a knowing smile. Why would you NOT be re-reading this book right now? In fact, I was a little disappointed that there were not more Potter page-turners with me on the Tube. Maybe it’s not cool on the Circle Line. 

On Friday I spied a Suit nearby Victoria station walking with purpose, holding nothing but the book itself, unashamedly - until he dropped it flat out on the pavement. It prompted two teens behind me on the top-deck of the bus to snicker. But, readers, let’s not be ashamed. The Potter series has had a successful and extraordinary journey. For those who are HP literary fans, we should pay tribute to Rowling now and, in hype of the cinema release of Deathly Hallows Part 2, should all whip out our copies and get reading again. What would be a better way to be a part of it?