Thursday 24 January 2013

Notebooks. No, not the gizmoey kind.

As a journalist it is imperative that you always have a notebook to hand. You never know when that amazing, rare brainwave for an awesome feature might hit, or that big news breaking story that will propel you into the stratosphere of media fantasticness. I am still waiting for both of these things to happen on a regular basis, which is why I have several notebooks strategically positioned so I'm prepared at any given moment.

Thinking about it, I do have a lot of notebooks, but each one has a different role and I use it for a different purpose. They are as follows:
  • Handbag notebook - for shopping lists or jotting down notes when out.
  • By the bed notebook - for quickly writing down randomly brilliant ideas I have when half asleep in bed, or when I wake up in the morning.
  • On the desk list notebook - this little fellow is an A5 size pad and is simply used for making my 'list of the day' or taking notes when I'm on the phone. This notebook did actually used to be my autograph notebook and contains the signatures of Simon Pegg, Jessica Haynes (then Stevenson) and Edgar Wright. For this reason it's very valuable, but I went through a severe dry patch of meeting celebs and so now it's a list notebook.
  • Feature pad - possibly the most important of all. A4, lined note pad, upon which I plan, sketch, jot out, draft all of my features/writings so I have some physical sense of what I'm actually doing/writing about.
  • My diary - yes, I do keep a physical paper diary and have done ever since I was a child. This is obviously the most important of all my notebooks.
So, as you can see, that's quite a few. Probably a good thing that the boyfriend's family bought me five new ones for Christmas.

There was a time when I only ever had one notebook, which was my diary. I'd write in it everyday, but then I guess life starts to demand more and more so keeping order of it all invariably means adding to the clan. Understandably, you wouldn't want to pen your inner most thoughts next to a list of groceries. Sort of detracts from the importance of it really.

Anyway, between these many notebooks I somehow manage to organise myself and it's funny how it's gone from that one diary, in which I used to organise my thoughts, to being sprawled out everywhere.

There was a time when I only had one Internet, computer, social profile too. I think the first ever one I signed up to was on Freeserve chat. Is Freeserve still even a company? Well, whatever, in order to organise my online life now, I have Twitter, Facebook, Blogger (thanks for stopping by, by the way), two email addresses so an MSN identity too, Gmail or GooglePlus account, I believe I have a LinkedIn as well but I'll be damned if I know how to figure that out and I haven't even got round to understanding what Pintrest is. However, for me, more recently I have started to jot in a new electronic notebook:

http://www.rosemcrompton.com

That's right, I now have my own freakin' website with my name in it.

Now, you may be thinking, "what point are you trying to make here Rose?" Well, it's a simple one: on scale I think it's safe to say that in comparison to how I spread myself all over the Internet, it makes my crazy obsession with notebooks look pretty damn tame. Also, I just really needed to get a post in here bigging up http://www.rosemcrompton.com and this seemed like the simplest way to do it.

If you feel duped, I'm sorry. When I first thought of doing this post there was some profound connection I made and thought, "shit yeah! That'll make for a really poignant post and be a great way to tell people about my new portfolio site http://www.rosemcrompton.com "

I've slept, twice, since I had that original idea though. Sorry. But, hey, you know. All's not lost! At least now you know about my site, right?

Rose -x-
  

Thursday 10 January 2013

4 Crap Holiday Truths (because there always has to be a downside)

1. Pre-holiday cleaning
Despite the fact you're going away for a week or two, the urge to clean your house before you leave is overwhelming. As if you don't have enough to sort out already. The reasoning behind this is beyond me, but it's undeniable that as you pack up your things the need to leave the house spotless even though you're not going to be living in it for a fortnight and therefore can't enjoy the fruits of your labour, is a pre-holiday duty that's hard to leave off the 'to-do list'. By the time you get home the dust bunnies will have returned again anyway.

2. Be a fashion disaster
Again, this is a pre-holiday bug-bear that can cause all sorts of strife, but it's fact that the week before you go away your clothing options are cut by 90 percent because you need to keep everything clean for when you go away. "Oh, I can't wear that because it means I'll have to wash it again before holiday." This means that public social engagements prior departure must be limited so you don't have to showcase the dregs of your wardrobe.

3. Not wearing socks
Being away on holiday in a hot climate means that socks can firmly remain in the draw. This is a good thing and not what makes it a crap holiday aspect; it's the fact that you get to loving not wearing socks as you don your sandals and flip-flops around the beach resort. Gone is the sweaty foot problem and your feet actually get to feel sand and the air, so they look less ugly.

The problem arises when you come home and have to slip back into your boots and trainers. Once again socks are needed so you resign yourself to wearing them, which in turn means washing them, which in turn means pairing them and we all know that is one of the most boring jobs in the world.

4. Printing photos
While you're away you get to experience tons of amazing things that you never get to try at home, so the urgency to capture every event on film is paramount. The problem is when you get home and realise that you HAVE TO PRINT THEM ALL - an expensive task -, because obviously every moment on that holiday was just as important as the other.

There's no way you can say that the photo of you bungee jumping off a bridge or hugging a koala was any more life defining than the photo of you sitting in a random bar you can't remember the name of, drinking a universally loved Bacardi and Coke looking sunburnt to within an inch of your life. It would be photo descrimination not to get the latter printed too, regardless of the fact that you won't remember a thing about when, where or why it was taken when you look back at it a month later.