Yeah. I know I’m rubbish these days. You don’t even have to think it. It’s just so. The past while has been spent job-hunting – an exercise I could certainly be fitter at. Cape Town is as dry as the bottom of a thirsty man’s beer. This makes things difficult. I’ve been pacing around the house, eating copious amounts of Ghost Pops (ew), and NOT doing anything constructive. I’m chain-smoking. And I’ve even considered taking up the childhood pastime of nail-biting to help quell the anxiety. Germ-ridden nails? Gimme some, yo.
Freelance work is cool and all. You can hang in your pajamas, watch things in between drafts of stuff, and gloat as you imagine the rest of the world at their desks, hating life. But the things is, I want to do that too. I am untrained in the art of ‘chilling’. It does not suit me. I need to be in an office, nose to the grindstone. I get off one other people’s crazy ideas and bad moods. It reminds me what a wonderful thing human nature is. I want to hug strangers, eat my lunch out of a Tupperware, drink cheap-ass coffee, and always be on the verge of a freak-out due to deadlines. I’ve been for a few interviews so far. It’s interesting to see what the bowels of Cape Town’s agencies look like these days. A lot different to what I had imagined while still in Dubai. How is it going? Weeeeeell… Not sure, to be honest. It’s hard to gauge by a smile whether or not someone is thinking “God, you are awful” or “I kind of like you. And by the way, your work is cool too”.
I’m in the process of waiting to find out if I make the grade at a rad place I’d really like to work at. Let’s hope I DO make the grade. I’m getting rather bored of pajamas.
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