I've got form
Feb. 4th, 2010 11:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stephbgI am smashed and may fishinh thes posgt later.
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EDIT: No, I think I'll leave it exactly as written last night, if only to mark the terrifying realisation that I don't remember writing parts of it, and clearly I was in no state to perform even rudimentary editing.
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Today I progressed another micro-step on the RDA volunteer trail, and picked up an "Application for a Working With Children Check" form from the post office. I know it seems like I'm dragging my heels, but I've had to wait for term to start so it's been a slow-motion e-mail correspondence since the start of the year.
A lot of the instructions are addressed to people with criminal records, people who might acquire a criminal record during the application process, and people who might acquire a criminal record for the 3 year life of the card. Then there's the people with aliases, who've moved house in the last five years or who have the lack of good taste to not have an Australian passport and WA driver's license.
I wasn't even sure if my passport was current; I renewed it a while ago when I was threatened (and boy it felt like a threat) with being sent to LA for a month for work. Oh what embarrassing memories :-(
Anyway, passport located and it's got a few years left on it, so the proof of ID part shouldn't be a problem. But it's quite a thing to look at one's worst photo ever. It's actually a tossup between the passport and the driver's license photo which is a couple of years old now, taken when I was all puffy. There's fat, and there's puff. Puff bad.
For amusement value I also had a look at my childhood passport from my early teens, with short hair and a rebellious glare. Little snot. Lots more stamps in that one. My grownup passport is virginal.
Seeing the old unflattering photos I have come to realise something that I've observed in other members of the family: we improve with age. I have things that resemble jawlines and cheeckbones. I have eyelids that don't completely hood my eyes. My eyebrows are better groomed. The planes on my face are cleaner. The hair isn't trying so hard. And yet it's still demonstrably me: my eyes and nose are the right distance apart, and the accursed two moles around my eyes have formed fixed reference points for comparison.
The teens, twenties and early thirties were not my best years, but now as I approach 40 I think my genetic gifts nay become apparent. Awesome cheeckbones, clear and meaningful eyes, well trimmed and trained eyebrows to take on the world. The rest of the body is not keen to join the rennaissance, but we'll deal with that
later.
Tire now
--
EDIT: No, I think I'll leave it exactly as written last night, if only to mark the terrifying realisation that I don't remember writing parts of it, and clearly I was in no state to perform even rudimentary editing.
--
Today I progressed another micro-step on the RDA volunteer trail, and picked up an "Application for a Working With Children Check" form from the post office. I know it seems like I'm dragging my heels, but I've had to wait for term to start so it's been a slow-motion e-mail correspondence since the start of the year.
A lot of the instructions are addressed to people with criminal records, people who might acquire a criminal record during the application process, and people who might acquire a criminal record for the 3 year life of the card. Then there's the people with aliases, who've moved house in the last five years or who have the lack of good taste to not have an Australian passport and WA driver's license.
I wasn't even sure if my passport was current; I renewed it a while ago when I was threatened (and boy it felt like a threat) with being sent to LA for a month for work. Oh what embarrassing memories :-(
Anyway, passport located and it's got a few years left on it, so the proof of ID part shouldn't be a problem. But it's quite a thing to look at one's worst photo ever. It's actually a tossup between the passport and the driver's license photo which is a couple of years old now, taken when I was all puffy. There's fat, and there's puff. Puff bad.
For amusement value I also had a look at my childhood passport from my early teens, with short hair and a rebellious glare. Little snot. Lots more stamps in that one. My grownup passport is virginal.
Seeing the old unflattering photos I have come to realise something that I've observed in other members of the family: we improve with age. I have things that resemble jawlines and cheeckbones. I have eyelids that don't completely hood my eyes. My eyebrows are better groomed. The planes on my face are cleaner. The hair isn't trying so hard. And yet it's still demonstrably me: my eyes and nose are the right distance apart, and the accursed two moles around my eyes have formed fixed reference points for comparison.
The teens, twenties and early thirties were not my best years, but now as I approach 40 I think my genetic gifts nay become apparent. Awesome cheeckbones, clear and meaningful eyes, well trimmed and trained eyebrows to take on the world. The rest of the body is not keen to join the rennaissance, but we'll deal with that
later.
Tire now
