onlyemma's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 10 of the spongey orangey beauts. I�ve got some work experience at a production company in Nottingham. Finally, I�m doing something with my days that is more interesting than seeing how many Jaffa Cakes I can stuff into my mouth. On Tuesday I went for a meeting about my work experience. Unfortunately, when I got there it was like work experience in Carlisle all over again. I was a big bag of pathetic. I�m sure the person I was talking to could tell I didn�t know what to do with my limbs when I sat down and he spoke to me. Hold my cup of water; drum on my cup of water with my fingers; try to arrange my legs like I�m comfortable and aloof; wipe unattractive sweat moustache. And how much eye-contact is too much eye contact? Bloody hell. To make it worse I also have an undiagnosed condition known as Inappropriate Smiling Syndrome, which flairs up at times when smiling is wholly out of place, such as when someone says their beloved pet has died or tells me they�ve split up with a significant other. So, true to form, just as Gaz was telling me about the schedule they were going to produce for our day�s filming on Friday (nothing funny about that), spontaneously, my face cracked into a giant foolish smile. It came out of nowhere. All I could do was try to ride my giddiness out. And boy, what a strain that was. I sat for what felt like hours, desperately waiting for someone to say something even remotely funny so that I could let my tension out in the form of an alleviating raucous guffaw. Thank God, eventually it happened. However, alas I ended up exploding at the word �spaz�. Our meeting didn�t last too long after that. After a tour of the studio (I didn�t impress much during this either, describing everything as �cool� and over-using the phrase, �oh, right�) I was led outside, to freedom and the safety of solitude. I was told that I�ll be going to the studio again on Friday, and then off to a school to do some filming there (something I described as �nice�). So then I left, saying a bashful goodbye and doing a quick moronic flick of the hand, an action some would loosely associate with a wave. So on the way back to the tram I was feeling pretty bad about myself and my pitiful performance as �knowledgeable media graduate�; and I bought a �3 Pick N Mix to cheer myself up � a big bag of just big and small torpedoes. It was a high price to pay, I know, and especially when I�m skint. I even exclaimed to the girl at the till that I could�ve bought a top from Primark for the price of my sweets, but she didn�t seem to appreciate my remark at all and gave me a disdainful smile. I just took it that she was a bit thick and swiftly picked up my heavy bag of liquorice delights. My mum was appalled when I got home and offered her a torpedo, saying I�d spent a small fortune on them, and even at 22 years old I felt I had to justify my purchase to her and pretend they weren�t a rip-off. �Oh, there were loads more than this! It was value for money, I�ve already eaten about a tonne� when really I�d had about five of the pricey little buggers. It made me think about the �3 top I could�ve bought. They�re sitting on my set of drawers at the moment and are actually taking a surprisingly long time for me to get through. I honestly thought they�d last the tram journey only. So I may end up having to take them filming with me on Friday and I�ll offer them round so people think I�m a nice person and warm to me, despite my profound lack of personality and constant panicky laughter. And of course, the inevitable sweatiness. Oh God, I�m going to become known as the creepy nervous girl who wins people over with sweets. I can see it. 12:14 p.m. - 2007-05-03 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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