Thursday, 14 February 2008

Half an hour

I suppose, like many things, I come to this a bit late--waited for the mobile phone until I'd successfully annoyed the crap out of David, and now it can't be prised from my cold, dead hands. And I suppose, as with many things, that this could feel natural, writing my thoughts, though at present it just feels a bit stilted and silly, and a way to pass the last half an hour before I escape for points south. Who knows...

Why this post on this day and in this place? I think it's a growing, gnawing feeling that I'm skating along through my life, vaguely aware of my day to day activities, the people I meet, conversations I have, thoughts--without ever stopping for a second to register any of it. So, I function on a day to day basis--I progress, but I look back on it a day, or a week, month, whatever, later, and think, what the hell did I actually do? I don't remember, or I remember and it just seems like about a gazillion light years in the past. I suppose that could be just a 'feature' of growing older, as the passage of time seems to speed up (my god I never would have actually believed that, but, like many of those things that 'old farts' say, it's actually true). Scary. Anyway, I think I'm doing this because I have this, perhaps naive, hope that stopping to write things down along the way may actually force me to reflect and remember, rather than just flitting from day to day like a butterfly searching for a perch. It's a nice idea anyway.

The funny thing about all this is that I'm aware at some point that I'm writing in a publicly accessible forum, and that this may have some bearing on what I should say or not say (don't want everyone to know all my proclivities! :-), and I hope that I can become less self-conscious about it as time progresses, because I have to say that at present, it feels pretty damn odd. But then, I was never able to actually keep a journal--god knows how many times I tried. It seemed somehow much more difficult to sit down and write something out with a pen than to sit here, using up Council time, twittering away at the keyboard. Odd.

Anyway, I had my interview today for the Performance Team Leader job--something involving management. I thought I would have sooner plucked my own eyeballs out than ever involve myself with that word--meetings and bureaucracy and general bullshit, but I think I've realized that there is actually potential for coolness--and playing with data until it gets hurt. Always a good thing. Suppose it's the first 'grown up' job I've ever seriously applied to. I seriously underestimated how being an endless student would impact on how I relate to the world, on feeling somehow perpetually 18 and not actually in possession of any marketable skills. But then, the past year and a half has been about pulling myself out of that, I suppose. The cool thing is, I just realized the other day that I've actually managed to have my stay in the UK funded, in one way or another, by UK taxpapers since the moment I stepped ashore. Not bad--even if it has required a little work along the way! :-)

Suppose I will end here, and make some big silly promise to myself to be regular about this, to allow the excitement and drivel of my life unfold in front of me on screen. Wee fun. I look over and see Colin, intent on his number crunching. What a strange forest creature he is--can't ever even get him to look at a forwarded email, because it 'isn't work'. Sigh. I will just have to take me and my bad influence to the gym now.

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