On floristry and the meaning of work

Diabetes, employment, Floristry, Work
altar at home

Altar piece, with delphiniums, carnations, roses, nigella and foraged foliage and grasses. Photo by the author.

As I woke reluctantly this morning, I saw one of the pieces I made for my show night sitting on the chest of jarrah drawers that I inherited from my Nan. It made me smile, a deep, from the gut kind of smile.  In floristry speak it’s a vegetative symmetrical arrangement, which means to the rest of us that it looks like a round garden. Like it has grown out of the container I’ve put it in.

I feel both sad and glad that floristry is over. I have passed, and I am now a fully qualified floristry assistant. An unemployed one though…

Unlike the PhD which I regularly regret doing, I have no regrets about this course. No regrets about the time and the money and the lost income spent pursuing it. This, I think, is a good sign. I’m sorry that I will not be showing up regularly to class each week with my buckets and my hopes, and enjoying the company of the many wonderful women that I met. Given that Cert 4 is not available in Canberra, I had hoped that I would be able to repeat but it seems that I will not be able to do so. Admin and rules and all that clap trap.

So I am a bit stuck now.

I haven’t been able to get a job and my two formal job interviews so far have been extremely bruising. I’m also worried about my body. I seem to wake up each morning feeling like I have a hangover, and while I can be a big drinker, hangovers only last a day. This week I’ve had a really good massage and been to Pilates and I should be feeling fabulous. Instead I feel like I’m an old tea bag, wrung out and of not much use to anyone. So it’s bad that I should feel like this generally but if I want to be a florist, it’s terrible.

Floristry is so physical. And I took it up because it is so physical, I need physical because of the diabetes. But at the same time I am afraid that if I was employed as a florist and I keep feeling like this, what’s it going to do to me? How do you know what is physically normal when you can’t get inside someone else’s skin?

Commercial floristry is fast paced, apparently cut throat and most of the people I’ve met in an employee/employer context haven’t been all that nice. I might be good at flowers (always with room for improvement of course) but I’m not fast, I abhor this commercial context and my life is far too precious to hang out with arseholes. What to do? Who wants a diabetic florist with a dicky back and anxiety issues?

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s