aymczard - Post a comment
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| I hate that subject thing. It's like the mood thing. It's just a tag and I don't know what it's going to be until I've finished. Anyway, I went of Chester for a work trial at Costa Coffee yesterday. An hour there, an hour back, half an hour driving around the damned town trying to get in and get out, about forty minutes work . . . and I have to wait until Thursday to find out if I've got the job. Apparently, the managers are 'in meetings' until then, which sounds like crap to me. Huge piles of it. And I've agreed to work Ken's shift on Thursday so he can go to an interview at Blockbuster, so I'm starting work at 11 a.m. and finishing around 12 a.m. I'm going to have to call her before I go to work. God, damnit, I want this job. I really, really want it. KFC is getting worse and worse and worse and I really enjoyed my work trial. Well, for work, at any rate. But I didn't ask any questions, and I had some to ask, but driving around the town centre made me forget them. You have no idea how much I hate driving around town centres. I mean, it's bad enough when you know where you're going, but when you don't, it's about a billion times worse. Anyway, I want the job. The trouble is, I don't like investing much emotion in situations where I have no control over the outcome. I mean, football is good because, at the end of the day, I'm not risking anything. We lose, well, no big. My life goes on. But with things which do affect my life, I've learnt to anticipate the worst because it usually happens. And that way, I'm not crushed when it does. Recently, I've been thinking that maybe this is a bad thing. Maybe this is a cause of a lot of the troubles in my life. But then I remember how frikkin hard it is to pick myself up again, to make myself get up and get on with things when I just want to crawl into a small, tight little cupboard and sit in the dark. I hate it. That's how I'm going to feel if I let myself go and really, really want this job but don't get it. I don't want to have to deal with that. Anyway, I want that job. I guess I'll have to wait. In other news, I've been looking for Googlewhacks. I'm yet to find one. I'm not very good with word games like these. It was that Dave Gorman show that started me. It's like an itch on your leg, and you can't stop until you've scratched it. All in the name of avoiding my novel. Much like Mister Gorman. Gods, I want it to be published. And then I can start writing Butterflies, and then my police guy can get in touch and I can do that one, and with that money I can go to the Shetlands for six months - maybe a year - and write my Victorian one . . . It's like trying to wait until Christmas when you're eight years old. Between that and Costa it's a wonder my brain hasn't split in two. So much yearning, so much desire . . . Anyway, I keep finding word lists on-line when looking for my Googlewhacks. That sort of thing kind of spoils it, really. I mean, why is it that whenever someone creates a new game that everyone really likes, other people have to go out of their way to spoil it for everyone else? Anyway, I've avoided stuff for too long, and Gemma's just got out the bath, so I'm going to sign out. |
aymczard - Post a comment
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