So, I am busy looking for that ideal job – well, any job tbh; however, how do I stand out from the crowd with my cover letter?
How about this:
You have found the best person to fill your vacancy!
I am an experienced writer, bringing a unique ‘stand out from the crowd’ approach to any project I work on; however, I do have one itsy, bitsy question to put to you – would you consider making this role mainly remote?
There are many mutual benefits to hiring remote staff, from increased employee productivity to lower overhead costs, and many companies now use telecommuting employees for a large part of their workforce.
As a forward thinking, 21st century company, you too could reap the rewards of remote hiring –
allow me to demonstrate these advantages.
Please find attached a copy of my CV for your consideration, and I look forward to hearing from you.
I am considering adding a p.s – also not scared of giant spiders (please see yesterday’s blog – this is a perfect example of why I use stock photos)
On Sunday the 19th August Hamish had a massive cardiac arrest in his sleep, completely out of the blue, and died. My heart went too. Since then my mind has followed it, deteriorated and frayed, with loose threads in the swirling autumn leaves. Nothing belongs to me, it’s gone with him, gone with my heart, it’s just all gone.
Today, I still feel lost, but carry on because of Pagan, and a new puppy coming in a few months. We both need this – a new focus, new eyes to watch, and learn about.
But, my friends, I have neglected you, too, so now I try and make amends by catching up. Please be patient while I get my act together at long last!
The arrival of four fox cubs in my garden prompted excitement amongst all of us. The vixen was looking poor, so I stepped in, leaving out food for the family. Luckily they remained wild and wary, which is what I wanted. I will try and add some photos.
Sorry about the lack of quality but I was a bit over excited at seeing these beautiful creatures – I didn’t realise she had cubs! Can you guess who was going absolutely insane at this point? Lol
Somewhere in the woods, there is a plastic plate, adorned with Disney princesses (it was the only one I could find, honest). The thieving little foxes – I blame Littlest Foxling! He looks like a fuzzy trouble maker!
They didn’t even play fair by posing nicely for photos! The scampery, sneaky bastards!
The natural world and mathematical formulae meet perfectly in sunflowers. Anyone who knows me, knows how I go on about the Golden Arc and how fascinated I am by the idea that as if by chance it appears time and time again in nature, from the curl of a freshly opening fern frond to the fur follicles on a rabbits head. Sunflowers, too, follow this pattern. I took these pics this morning. Walking the demons along the riverbank we go past a small corner of an arable field where the farmer has planted these gorgeously happy flowers!
Do we run from one crisis to the next – is that what keeps us alive and actively thinking? If life were simple, pale pastel coloured, and peaceful, would we exist? Do we need the energy to be alive
You might own a Malamute if
You look the wrong way or stand up and that signals the start of the race to the back door.
A chip bag crackles and suddenly there is a huge dog in your lap.
Your TV is always tuned to Animal Planet for the National Geographic specials on wolves. You feel like the doorman at the Ritz Carlton every time the temperature drops 10 degrees. You don’t bother with fake snow at Christmas – the house is a winter wonderland year round and you vacumned 5 minutes ago. Your the top third of your Christmas tree is the only part decorated and it’s tied to the wall. It’s been years since you’ve been in the bathroom alone. You always check dogbreath before you accept kisses. Your backyard resembles a pock-marked cratered moon landing site. You are greeted at the door and gifted with a petrified mouse, a large frozen turd or a squirrel tail (minus remaining squirrel). If you can identify every dog by his Woo from another room. (multiple mals) You consider dog hair in your food a condiment. You have child safety locks on cupboards and doors – and you don’t have children. You have a collection of canine and lupine nicknacks in your home that rivals the Smithsonian. You don’t own an alarm clock because the dog is more accurate. You put 3x the amount you plan to snack on in the bowl so you can share. Your toilet paper sits on a shelf, and it’s a guest faux paux to put it back on the roll. You have a revolving credit account at Home Depot, and the manager welcomes you personally. You host unplanned equestrian events in your living room. Food that’s dropped on the floor does not require pickup unless it’s chicken bones. The dog provides the dishwasher prewash cycle. You buy a vehicle based on the interior upholstery color. You mop daily, vacumn hourly, and have a holster on your hip for the dustbuster. Hitting a deer on the highway is cause for celebration even if it totals the SUV – chewies tonight! Night refrigerator raids or bathroom trips require care not to step on the live rug in the doorway. You never have cold feet because there’s room under your desk. Starving children making appeals on TV don’t faze you, you’re used to ignoring starving looks and pleading eyes. Your veterinarian owns a Ferrari and sends you an expensive gift basket at Christmas. The house is littered with hundreds of gutted, limp toys and crushed, flattened tennis balls. You own a half dozen vacumns in various degrees of repair because none survive more than a year. Visitors to your home wearing black are automatically handed a lint roller. You have a designated toilet as the dog’s water bowl. Burglers never bother your house – mainly because they can’t force the door open for the large dog on the other side sleeping.
Pardon? It’s all a dream nothing tangible. Faded and pale, smudged edges, smoked lines. Coloured pinpricks like chalk pastel dusting sparkle through the fog making the haze more haze by its very difference. Like before when the world stopped turning. Back then, though, it fired up once more. Will it do the same? Will history echo the future? I cannot say and merely wait to catch it.
(This made perfect sense last night when it wrote itself)
This isn’t a self pitying piece, or one that anyone needs to worry about – it’s just me, my words, and an exercise in catharsis. How much stress can one take before breaking point is reached? And what happens when it is?
I’m not sure why today, why now in particular, but that feeling of sick dread is at full power. I felt it tingling on the corners yesterday, peering around, but today it is standing in full sun. Nothing is loosening its hold. Mindfulness, my go-to release, has gone-too, and although the birds are singing joyfully, and the bees just waking from their nights slumbering, I cannot shake it.
I feel scared, anxious, sick and shaky. But still my infuriatingly analytical mind tries to make sense – what is different today than yesterday, the day before, a month ago?
I laugh, show interest and sympathy when I should, I make coffee and fuss the dogs; tug-of-war and football are just about within my capabilities, but shouting at me, giving me no peace, is the anxiety. Big, cloudy black and stabby – it’s there!
My desk, my keyboard and my words are my padded cell – if I’m writing, I’m not killing. The words trickle from my fingers, showing stark black on a white screen, can’t argue with black on white. Can’t fight the lines and curves, they need me to be and I need them to be true. Words only exist with us, but who owns who?
Is it that we have too much to say? Writers are no wiser than anyone else; we cannot write better [sic] or more thought provokingly than anyone else. Most of us, myself included, fell into being published, almost by accident. Many of us rely on auto correct, the little wavy green line that mocks our grammatical errors, and the freely donated inspiration of good coffee!
Maybe we just want people to know the real us without coldly stripping off while they watch. This way it’s like a peeping tom, peering through muslin covered windows, while we show a blurred, softened outline of our thoughts.
The drive to write, to create images and acquire agreements, is strong, and maybe that is the only difference between someone who doesn’t care about writing, someone who wants to be a writer, and someone who is a writer.
‘Steady’ and ‘Please’ – the two most misunderstood words by malamutes on a determined duck hunt. Just to be clear, the duck wasn’t determined – keen to get a move on, admittedly, not impressed – most certainly, but not really determined. The beasts, however, were – very! Me? I’ve had any lingering determination ripped out of me over my malamute ‘owning’ years. Although, seriously, one never owns malamutes – one serves them, builds their life around them, and is ultimately broken by them. Ho hum – coffee time!
No one but a fellow sufferer knows the sheer relief of submitting (yes, I know – I don’t do submission lol) that essay that’s been inside your every thought since you begged your tutor for the second extension. Yes, there are still a couple of assignments to go – including the big end of level nasty, before the summer break, but obviously I will be highly motivated, organised and ahead of the game for my next one. Honestly, that is my heartfelt intention; it really is, just like it was last time, and the time before that.
But, for today, the relief is palpable; the beasts had an extra long slog through the mud, the housework was done with Mary Poppins efficiency and cheerfulness, admittedly whilst industrial metal tinkled away in my ears, and my poor beleaguered laptop has been restarted, virus checked and CC cleaned.
Ready to open that book? Just one more coffee? Don’t mind if I do ……….
Words – I learned from a young age that words can make or break you, they can define, or destroy you, give you the world, then take it away, and I love them for the power the possess, the strength to kill, the gentleness to nurture.