1. Not go to work at my old job because I quit.

2. Not go to work at my new job because I haven't started yet.

3. Say "QUITTERS RULE!" and punch the air vigorously.

4. Go to my hairdresser for a cut and colour. This is her Last Chance to satisfy me. Fingers crossed she's spent the break boning up on the difference between 'burgandy' and 'chocolate brown' because I'm not going through this again :



5. Sit in the car for six or seven hours as we drive up to Hamilton.

6. Be polite enough about the driver's pre-Big Day Out enthusiasm for Rammstein and its being played incessantly on the car stereo to convince him to stop in the discount outlet clothing heaven that is Otaki.

7. Not spend all my money at the hairdresser's and get some Minx shoes.

8. Participate in general car trip revelry:

8a: Text my brother "Pony poo $1 a bag!" when we go past the sign that says "Pony poo $1 a bag!".

8b: Shudder at the hideousness that is Levin whilst passing by.

8c: Scan all signage in Bulls to see if any witticisms have been added.

8d: Grumble about not being able to see the mountains probably, except on those days when the mountains are clearly visible and truly majestic and breath-taking.

8e: Cry out "Oooowhhhhhangooooo!" when whizzing past this tiny place that was only notable for its half decent cafe which is now closed.

8f: Note how it now takes even longer to reach Hamilton proper because the suburbs are bulging out from the city, like grease stains leaching out from a cheap meat patty left sitting too long on a paper towel.

9. Be excited and warm and fuzzy about meeting my nephew tomorrow!

Posted by Bel. The time is 9.13pm here in Wellington.

I mentioned briefly in my last post that 2011 was going to mean a new job for me. In fact, I have three days left at my current workplace and then next week launch into the traumatising phase of being The New Kid. But hey, at least that's an improvement from job hunting, right?

The place I've been working at has been absolutely wonderful and I've had the best manager I've ever worked with, hands down. So why am I moving on after 18 months? Well other than the fact that I am a fickle and flighty Gen Y-er, my main concern was that I was on a contract.

Maybe when you work in the corporate world you can be confident that there's always another pot of money somewhere to guarantee an extension, but in the not-for-profit sector, you're generally hanging on by the skin of your teeth. My career so far has been devoted to the arts and various charities, and after spending a big chunk of time redundant, making sure I had work lined up was top priority.

The role I'm going to is a permanent one (oh yes!) and cherry on top is that I'm going to be part of a team - you know, people working together! No more having to bounce ideas off the wall, I will have actual colleagues in the same field who understand the crazy jargon I'm forced to speak! Oh happy day!

I feel very fortunate to be moving on to something that seems to be such a good fit. Though you never know until you've gotten stuck right in there - so I'll keep you posted!!

| Posted by Bel | The time is 11.14am here in Wellington NZ |

Remember how, like, a fortnight ago I wrote this rant (and tips) about learning French and then that other blog about how going to France was, like, my greatest passion in life?

Yeah, well. WHATEVS.

Or 'hein...bof', as the French would say, whilst waving their gauloise nonchalantly.

This term was the start of Intermediate 2. Before we started, I caught up with a friend who is a native French speaker so I would be up to scratch. I nervously revised with her the points that I had stumbled over the months before, wanting to make sure I had a clear understanding of what we'd been taught.

She was somewhat bemused. "Oh most French people don't know half this stuff properly," she said, in that naturally condescending way that the French have down pat, "I would never use any of these complex grammatical terms in conversation. All this is very structured. You just wouldn't need it day to day. I'm sure someone would be impressed if you spoke this formally, but... you know... [hein... bof]".

As you know, I have no immediate plans or funds to go travelling. I was struck by a sudden terrifying thought. I was going to spend another term, year, years, studying here in this small town, on this small island, on the edge of this big ocean, becoming the world's most grammatically perfect and learned student of the French language, and one day in the far distant future, finally make it to the fantastical land of France, only to open my mouth and sound like an utter twat.

Okay. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad.

But my French is pretty good now, after two years, which means that the classes are actually getting kinda hard. I'm really enjoying it, but it was actually quite a bit of work to get real value from it, and not having an immediate goal of a holiday or something meant that it was hard to stay motivated. (Not to mention the cost of nearly $300 per term. Sacre bleu!!)

I'm sure that it will be more rewarding once I am in a more focussed position and will pick it up again then. In the meantime, I am stepping up my visits to locally French-run bakeries and viewings of subtitled hottie-starring films, as this now counts as the extent of my cultural immersion and thus très importante.

Here's something to inspire us all: