Vitriol.

Tonight at work someone ripped into me for no reason and made me cry.

I've been feeling like crap for days. My throat is raw, my eyes sting and my nose is either blocked or running. But I've still been at work every night, I've still been at college every day. I'm proud of myself for not sleeping through one or the other.

Tonight started out as a good night, I'd sat in the office and got a lot of college work done, the main band were good, a few of my friends were there, I was feeling good because I was helping a photographer get pictures for his portfolio. The band finished and I was getting ready to pack up, feeling pretty happy in myself.

And then when I was putting some equipment away some dick from one of the bands (I suspect it was a tour manager) starting shouting at me and calling me all kinds of things for no reason. I didn't even know what he was talking about. He was pissed up and being vulgar.

And just like that all my good feeling about the night went. I gave him a level look and carried on packing stuff away, then I went to find someone to talk to, because I was reeling.

At first I tried being indignant. I stood on the stage with the sound engineer and some others and raved about it and tried to project all my hurt into one long rant to let it all out so I could feel happy again. I was starting to feel worse for wear again, my head was hurting, I kept sniffing, my throat stung. I was angry but my feelings were hurt, and unfortunately I'm the kind of person who takes everything to heart.

And then I tried to distract myself. My hearing tends to go a bit after a night at work because the ear plugs I have aren't good enough to stop them ringing. I walked out of the venue, put my headphones in and tried playing happy songs to cheer myself up, but my eyes felt hot and I was breathing to quick.

It's humiliating enough to have to walk home crying, but when you live in the middle of town that's even worse.

I got home, locked the door and let out a huge sob. How dare he? What right did he have? I don't care if he's David Bowie or the postman, where does he get off talking to anyone like that? I was doing so well, I'd really tried today.

And I need a shoulder to cry on, and I'm home alone, and it's too late to call anyone, and I don't know who I'd call.

It's not fair. It's not fair.

Backstabber

Backstabber, hope-grabber

Greedy little fit-haver

God I feel for you, fool

Shit-lover, off-brusher

Jaded bitter joy-crusher

Failure has made you so cruel

 

 

 

 

(I absolutely love Amanda Palmer/The Dresden Dolls, plus this music video is just fantastic)

 

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This last week at college has been the worst I've had in a lo-o-ong time. Nothing but grief from the same two people who have gone out of their way for the last year and a half to make sure I can't have a week at college without wanting to flay one or both of them.

 

There's no point to what they do. There is no basis to their holier-than-thou attitude and they're both just fucking useless. They don't do any work and think only of themselves and their own personal gain, expecting everything to fall into their lap. I, more than anyone, have the right to be pissed at them because I've been the only person that has been in every day of the week single-handedly doing the work, research and building that everyone is meant to be doing. I don't mind that others have been ill, I don't mind that I don't get any credit, it's more that these two claim the credit for themselves for doing sweet fuck-all.

 

But, after college I will never have to see them again. One is completely unemployable and will not get anywhere in life once he hits the real world and realises that he can't be the queen of Sheba and expect a standing ovation for it. The other, I'm just waiting for the realisation that she's about as useful as a suntan is to a frog to hit her in her stupid face.

It'll be hilarious.

Brighter

I've always wondered why my mum didn't actively try to make me more girly when I was younger, but I'm glad she didn't. I like the boyish side of me. I love technology and programming and finding out how things work. I also love shoes and shopping and Robert Downey Jr and Nathan Fillion with a fiery passion. I'll quite happily sit in my favourite heels (gorgeous and comfy black suade lace-up wedges - om-a-nom-nom) fixing audio cable or be up a ladder re-wiring a plug. Not to say that I rock up to work in silly footwear. Steel-toe caps is where it's at.

It's extremely difficult to get taken seriously in an industry that is 95% male. From when I first started working in the live events industry for a living I was told that there were dickheads in the industry, and as a female I'd probably come across more than my fair share. And it's true, I have. There's a lot of macho bullshit to cut through and the general holier-than-thou attitude that comes from anyone with a bigger budget for technology than you.

Worst of all are probably the other women, to be honest. Not the engineers and technicians so much as the ones that tour with the band who are basically there as the wives-and-girlfriends unit and are there because it's OH SO EXCITING to be there. There is absolutely no female solidarity with these people.

I like to think that I'm a nice person, and I can get along with all kinds of people, but there's a certain way to deal with artists and their entourages and also I have no patience for people whose ego has been stroked too many times. I don't care who they are, I don't differentiate. Today I had to deal with a woman who had come with the band as a girlfriend, and was stood in  the way whilst I was trying to set up and programme the lights for the headlining band. I asked her to move out of the way and was asked the timeless question:

"Do you know who I am?"

Not a clue, love. But right now you're in my way. Move and you are no longer my concern.

I don't understand these people, so jumped up and artificial. I wonder if she would have just moved out of the way if I was a bloke like everyone else.

It's difficult when faced with situations like this. It's so easy for me to argue back. I feel like I need to justify my presense nearly all the time and second-guess myself constantly, even though I'm good at my job.

My job is to make famous people look pretty (not by comparison. Okay, yes, a little bit by comparison) by shining lights on them just right. I spent my days learning new ways to do it at college and all night at one of my two venues practicing and getting paid for doing what I love.

I have lots of nicknames depending on which crew I work with. I'm Lampie, Crowlette, Twinky, Rogue, Scumbag, Neeko, Bitch, Lights, Babydoll, Flo, or plain old Nicole.

I love what I do. It's a niche I fit into nicely. Even if there are extra silly little problems like not being able to rig things above my head without my bra slipping up or not being able to bend over without falling out. Having my hair scraped up on the top of my head and having people think that I won't be able to lift and carry as much as them (actually I give them a run for their money, mwahaha).

And I just relish the opportunity to creative. Whether it's designing and building stage sets or throwing a lighting design together, I love watching my ideas come to life. It's my ultimate goal, to be in a position to make the shows I work on as they are in my head. I'm glad every day that I was raised around all this, that my dad would take me to work with him and that I could learn that way. People in the industry find it hard to believe that I have sixteen years of experience given that I am just shy of twenty years old myself. Start young, I say!