Back to career pondering again. I saw a careers advisor yesterday and we talked about the fact that I'm not interested in a normal 9-5. I said I love writing, whether it's my Blog or writing short stories for kids, I enjoy it and I think I'm quite good at it. I've got about six stories sitting under my bed that I could easily make into a few books. She emphasised that becoming a journalist or writer would be a long and hard slog, and that I'd probably have to work for free just to get a foot in the door. Work for free! I begrudge having to work at all, let alone for free! But if that's what it takes to keep me out of staff holiday rotas, filing customer complaints (in the bin) and inputting the latest sales figures - then so be it.
The only tiny little thing that worries me is the upping sticks part. Obviously I cannot possibly forge a successful career in Lowestoft, if anybody has been to Lowestoft or lived there they'll know what I mean. I'm always worried about taking big leaps - I moved to Wales to be with a boyfriend in 2002 and lasted three years of misery and lonliness (and Welsh people) before admitting defeat and moving back home. I would only do something like that again for the chance of a good future, but never again for a man! I have an Uncle in his seventies who lives in Ilford and a cousin who lives in, what I call, "Millionaires Row" near Epping. So, if they agreed to let me stay a while, my choice would be; stay with Uncle and never be able to bring a guy home, or stay with cousin and sink into debt paying the rent. I reckon the debt thing sounds more bearable than never getting laid, quite frankly.
I did wonder if it'd be worth my while lodging with strangers, but I think that's a big no no. I'm very fussy and very paranoid. If I get stuck with somebody who's dirty and untidy I'd end up beating them to death with the rubbish bin lid. Or I could end up with a thief, or a pervert who wears my knickers when I'm not at home. Or an axe murderer. Or worse....someone who eats my food! I once read about a woman who re-filled her mayonnaise bottle with copydex, a sly (and pretty dangerous!) way of catching the culprit who was stealing her mayo. Knowing how forgetful I am, I would probably do something like that then forget I'd done it and end up being the first person to eat it.
My ex-housemate & workmate lived in the room above mine in a house we shared with a fellow workmate. I used to dread it when he had a girlfriend because each time he bought her home they'd keep me awake boinking all night. The noises were unbearable. Every time they'd start I'd be praying for him to suffer at least one night of erectile dysfunction - or for her to accidently fall off his willy on an unusual angle and render him "unfit for work". I love him to bits, we still keep in contact, but I'm sure if he reads this he'll understand. Leigh Anne cherishes her sleep - minus the moans and squeeking from upstairs!
So, back to the career thing! I've got lots to work with and plenty of ideas. All I need to do is put this ingenius plan in action: I'm winging it.
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