#oneaday, Day 1: Dawn of the First Day

I am aware of the factual inaccuracies in the title of this post. It is neither my first day writing #oneaday blogs, nor is it dawn. However, there are two reasons for naming it as I have: firstly, any excuse to get in a Zelda: Majora’s Mask reference, and secondly, since the other members of the 2011 One A Day Project have all started today at number 1, I thought I would join them so as not to look too much like the grizzled old veteran that I am. Rest assured, there will be celebrations when I reach the end of my first year, though. Assuming I remember. (19th of January. Remind me.)

As it’s a new year, a new beginning and a shiny new number “1” at the top of this post, I thought I would take the opportunity to introduce myself to those new readers that the One A Day Project has hopefully brought to my blog. Those of you I already know, bear with me for today and I’ll get back to slagging things off tomorrow.

I’m Pete. I’m 29, and unemployed. 2010 was the worst year of my life, taking in the end of my employment, the end of my marriage, the end of my finances and the end of my independent status as Someone Who Does Not Live With Their Parents. All of the above are related to one another, at least in passing.

But as 2010 was a year of endings, January 1st 2011 seems like a good time to think about new beginnings. And what better way to consider new beginnings than with some new year’s resolutions? Here goes, then.

I will blog every day from January 1st, 2011 until December 31st, 2011 (and possibly beyond) come rain, come shine, come sickness, come health, come on holiday, come in a sock (sorry), come not really having any time or being really drunk of an evening. I’ve kept up this daily blog since January 19th last year and I have no intention of stopping now.
I will go for a run three times a week, on Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday where possible. Those of you who have been following me for a while will know that towards the end of the year I successfully completed the Couch 2 5K programme, which turned me from a fat bastard into a fat bastard who can run for up to 30 minutes non-stop, albeit quite slowly.
I will embark on a wide array of erotic adventures with a bevy of voluptuous redheads, all of whom either are or at least vaguely resemble Christina Hendricks.*
~~I will fuck up the tax man good and proper.~~ I will attempt to figure out why the taxman still thinks I am self-employed despite having gone from full-time employment to unemployment in the last few years. Then I will fuck him up good and proper.**
I will get a job.***
I will earn enough money to get somewhere to live that has a living room big enough for a Kinect and Dance Central.****
I will speak my mind and not bottle stuff up like a +5 Cauldron of Resentment.
I will complete Final Fantasy XII.
I will make a sizable dent in my gaming Pile of Shame.*****
I will not play World of Warcraft.
I will actually finish writing the story I’ve had stuck in my head for the last ten years and which has gone through more rewrites than an aborted metaphor involving something that gets rewritten a lot. (12,000 words so far. On the story, not the metaphor. That would be a metaphor of Dickensian proportions.)
I will have no shame in my diverse, occasionally cheesy, occasionally really really gay musical tastes.******
I will stop being so gay on Twitter.*******

I think that’s quite enough to be getting on with, and all of them are totally achievable. Setting yourself realistic targets is the key.

So, now that you know a little bit about me (and will undoubtedly learn more either by reading back over my past entries, which I promise I will do a “Best Of” one day when I can be bothered) you’re probably confused by that comic strip at the top of each post. Spoiler: I am also a little confused by the comic strip at the top of each post. I’m not quite sure how it happened, but I think it’s Allie Brosh’s fault. That minx. But suffice to say, yes, I have made the questionable decision to accompany every blog post with a silly little cartoon drawn in the Mac equivalent of MS Paint and laid out with frankly unnecessary care and attention using Comic Life Magiq.

You’ll notice a few recurring faces in these strips. Here are the most common ones:

Pete

Pete is a 29-year old unemployed ~~bum~~ ~~geek~~ writer aiming to make his way in the world. He lives in a featureless apartment of indeterminate size with several other peculiar characters and seems to attract surreal situations to himself like moths to a Dali-esque flame.

Alex

Alex believes herself to be “the sensible one”, despite having a boy’s name. However, Pete isn’t convinced that she is as sensible as she likes to make out due to two fact: firstly, she reads Grazia magazine, and secondly, she has slept with Phillipe on more than one occasion.

Phillipe

Phillipe gets terribly upset when people spell his name wrong, but it’s often difficult to tell due to his odd facial expression, acquired when he discovered that the stories your parents tell you about “sticking like it” are all true. He is also a massive pervert, and gets his penis out at every opportunity.

Lucy

Lucy hates blonde stereotypes but unfortunately conforms to every single one of them. She is not terribly bright and occasionally descends into saying text-speak out loud. She is, however, a cheerful soul and is rarely seen without a smile on her face. She likes coffee and kittens. Not together.

Des

The personification of Pete’s “black cloud of despair” which he felt on numerous occasions throughout the last year. Des eventually became his own independent entity and made friends with Alex over a cup of tea. Pete has defeated him once, but he occasionally pops in for a social visit.

The MoneyBot

The MoneyBot’s sole purpose is to monetize everything. Unfortunately, a glitch in his programming means that he only ever attempts to monetize people—a process which he carries out by shooting people in their genitals with a green Monetizing Ray. The process is reversible, and he may be a dream.

There. Consider yourself primed for the year ahead. Good luck to my fellow One A Day Project bloggers. And readers? Don’t forget to pay the official site a visit and donate either your time or money to Cancer Research UK or To Write Love On Her Arms to show your appreciation for everyone’s awesome creativity.

Thank you!

* A guy can dream, huh.

** Note to overzealous policemen: I will not actually fuck up “the taxman” because I am aware the Inland Revenue employs many people from diverse cultures who could probably take me in a fight if they all teamed up and formed a Constructocon.

*** Subject to the “job market”, or whatever people blame the lack of jobs on.

**** It’s wrong that I’m a little too enamoured with Dance Central, I know. But honey, I got rhythm that I haven’t used yet.

***** Subject to Anything Really Good coming out.

****** Already achieved. I am listening to Ke$ha while writing this post.

******* I make no promises as to being able to fulfil this one, particularly while @acronkyoung and @NintendoTheory are around. No homo.

#oneaday, Day 273: Roots

“And so it is said,” quoth the ancient texts that I’ve just made up in my head, “that the Place in which a Man shall lay his Roots is not chosen by the Man, but rather the Place.”

And so it was that this weekend I found myself back in the vicinity of Southampton, the City of Lost Dreams. The circumstances under which I was back in said city (or specifically, the adjacent town of Beastleigh Eastleigh) are not the subject of today’s post; rather, the curious twists of fate that lead someone to return to the same place time and time again are.

My original choice to go to Southampton was based almost entirely on the university campus. The lush greenery, the pleasantly rolling hills of the campus grounds, the pleasant water features—all of these things combined to make me think that “yes, this is the place I’d like to be”. That and the fact that it was one of very few places in the whole country running the English and Music course that I was interested in studying. Incidentally, if you’re about to go to university and you are currently justifying your choice of degree subject by saying “it’s a good general qualification, good for anything, really” then just stop, punch yourself in the face and go and pick something specialist that leads directly into a career you’re interested in. Seriously. It will save you a lot of annoyance a few years down the road.

I studied in Southampton and successfully completed my degree, despite a few early-morning lectures ditched in favour of trips to the campus coffee shop, and one piano workshop which I had to leave in favour of being a bit sick in the Turner Sims concert hall’s toilets. I decided that I liked it there for various reasons, so I took on a teacher training course primarily as a means of staying in Southampton, and also as a means of getting a career appropriate to my skillset. Once that was over and done with, I moved to Winchester, which is a much smaller, nicer and more expensive town than Southampton. But my heart was still in the city of WestQuay.

I spent two years in Winchester, living in The Nicest Flat In The World for the first year and A House That Would Be Quite Nice Were It Not So Mouldy And Smelling Of Gas in the second. Following this, I moved to Aldershot to be closer to my job. I then quit said job and moved back to Southampton into another Flat That Would Be Quite Nice Were It Not So Mouldy But Not Smelling Of Gas This Time because I had a job in, yes, Southampton. Tired of mould, I moved into the place in the city centre that was to become the final resting place of my hopes and dreams for my life that was. During all that time, even when I hadn’t lived in the city itself, it felt like “base camp”, home. A place to be centred. This was partly (or probably mostly) to do with the people who were there—people who were and still are important to me.

Leaving the city behind was tough, as was probably apparent from the blog posts around that period. It was so tough, in fact, that it took nearly all day to say goodbye to four people. In fact, it did take all day, and my overburdened car was not on its way up the M3 until the sun had long since dipped over the horizon.

Now, circumstances, Fate, whatever you want to call it; something has intervened and is dragging me back there. I’m not complaining (except at the cost of petrol or train tickets, both of which are extortionate) but I do get something of a wry grin on my face when I think of the city (and, by extension, its surrounding smaller towns and cities like Eastleigh and Winchester). It’s like a stubborn child that won’t quit until it gets what it wants, tugging on my metaphorical coat sleeves to attract my attention and pointing, oh look, over there, there’s a badger with a gun, can you see? Wouldn’t it be awesome if that was in your back garden?

So what will happen in the long term? I couldn’t honestly say. A lot will depend on the job situation, which still isn’t resolved yet. But let’s just say that there’s something of a quasi-gravitational pull in a south-westerly direction. It may be hard to resist that call for long.

#oneaday, Day 192: Movin’ On

When is somewhere not “home” any more?

Southampton has been my “home” ever since I went to university there in 1999. Even during the years I lived in Winchester and Aldershot, I still considered Southampton my “home”. But since everything that has happened, I think it’s lost its sheen. Part of this is, I feel, the city’s natural decline which has taken place ever since WestQuay opened slap bang in the middle of the town centre and promptly obliterated the High Street. But another side of it is, as my buddy Kalam said a short while back, having “got all you can” out of the city. It has nothing more to offer. You’ve completed it. 100%. Achievement Unlocked. That sort of thing.

I went to Cambridge today, a place I haven’t been for ages and the place I always say I’m originally from because no-one knows where “Great Gransden” is. I was there for a job interview, which I’m not going to discuss here for fear of jinxing things. But one thing struck me as I was in the city. Two things, actually. The first was “God, I hope I never accidentally drive into this city centre as it looks nightmarish to drive around”. Picture tiny, narrow, medieval streets. Now picture a fucking great bus going down them. Now picture about 300 cyclists cycling the wrong way down the street. Nice.

That wasn’t the important thing, though. The important thing I thought was “God, this place sure is nicer than Southampton”. I’m not sure if it’s always been that way and I just took it for granted growing up, but it’s a much more attractive city than Southampton. It seems cleaner, less crowded, less infested with chavs and the Starbucks that are there have a much wider selection of cakes and sandwiches. Even the women are hotter; a fact that several other people will happily back me up on.

So perhaps this is the right time to find a new city, and Cambridge should be it. There’s a lot to offer. This job, for a start. Some decent shops. Some nice open spaces. Decent people. Lack of chavs. A river that doesn’t look like a sewage factory, with actual person-propelled boats on it. A sense of history.

Southampton has many of these things, of course. But as I’ve said, the place has lost its sheen somewhat. Sometimes, I guess, you need a change. Particularly when a place that you once called “home” had everything that you once thought made life good stripped away from it. In those circumstances, I’m guessing it’s best to leave the past behind physically as well as mentally.

I guess we’ll have to wait and see how things work out. But today was very positive—that’s all I’m saying for now—and hopefully will lead to great things.

Further bulletins as events warrant.

Oh, and I won a Diplomatic Victory in a game of Civ IV earlier. That’s not relevant to any of the above, but I thought I’d share.

#oneaday, Day 188: Compromise

Compromise is a tricky business. In some senses it’s good. It shows a willingness to co-operate, to fit in, to be a part of society. But in others it means giving up part of who you are, usually in order to make someone else happy, or in order to fulfil the supposed “natural order of things”.

The trouble with refusing to compromise, though, is that you end up locked into an endless cycle of pursuing the unattainable and then feeling bad when it remains, well, unattainable. The clue’s in the title, dumbass. What makes you so special that you can attain the unattainable? You’re not BBC iPlayer. Wait, that’s something else, isn’t it?

Anyway, whether it’s a job or a relationship, unless you roll all natural 20s on every skill check you ever have to do (metaphorically speaking, of course) there’s going to be some element of compromise there.

And in a way, I think that’s a bit sad. Why should people have to give up on their dreams just because “society” (whoever THAT is) says it’s “never going to happen”? Why should people settle for second-best? Why should people have to put up with annoyances for the sake of something or someone they really love?

Because those things and people are also hoping for perfection and failing to find it, of course. Everyone wants to meet that special someone, Prince Charming, Sleeping Beauty, Christina Hendricks, whoever. But does it ever really work like that? How often do two people find each other and they’re perfect for one another? How often does someone step into a new job and think “Yes. This is LITERALLY my perfect job. There is nothing I would change about it whatsoever.”?

Our individual happiness seems to be made or broken by other people, and it’s a fragile thing. One little action, one thing said, one decision made; that can change everything. I know this only too well.

So what’s the answer? Is there one? Right now, at this crossroads in my life, there are two things I want that would help everything just fall into place. One: a job where I get to do something I love for a fair wage and get appreciated for it by the people I work for—both employer and customer. Two: well, let’s just say the term “nerd princess” would about cover it.

Is this too much to ask? Am I expecting too much? Do I put too much faith that all the good karma I have stored up over the course of the last 29 years will eventually lead to something awesome? I don’t want to give up. I don’t want to feel insignificant. I don’t want to be alone.

And above all, I really don’t want to compromise any more. As selfish as it sounds, I want to be happy. I want good things to happen. I want to meet someone awesome and nerdy and gorgeous and ride off into the sunset leaving the pain of the past behind.

I feel I have earned this. But is it just an impossible dream?

#oneaday, Day 185: Help Wanted

I’ve discussed this matter at great length before but goddammit it’s my blog and I’ll say whatever the hell I want to, assuming my Silent Hill-inspired dream/daydream/fiction/symbolism yesterday didn’t terrify you to your very core. So shut it!

Wait, you didn’t say anything. There was really no need to be rude and defensive. I’m sorry! Come back! Please?

Thanks. And I didn’t like the other people anyway. They think they’re all that. And a bag of chips. Whatever that means.

Right. I was going to say something, wasn’t I? Yes. Here it is.

I present to you a selection of what you’d get if job adverts were actually honest, based on some past experiences.

Drink Receptacle and Emesis Technician

Are you a talented, motivated self-starter? Well stop right there! This isn’t the job for you. You’ll be working in a busy environment that’s full of people who don’t want to give you the time of day unless you’re bringing them something they asked for. Yet your role will be considered essential to the smooth running of the establishment thanks to the fact that without glasses, no-one will be able to drink until they puke.

Key competencies for the role must include the ability to pick up a glass without dropping it, the ability to stack glasses without dropping them and the ability to operate an almost totally-automatic dishwasher. Must also not be averse to the idea of cleaning up sick with a mop.

Food Frying Specialist

Do you like food? Do you have ambitions of becoming a top chef in a fancy London restaurant? Well, everyone has to start somewhere! In this lively, exciting position you’ll be paired up with an actual chef who thinks you are complete scum and is more than happy to tell you so on a regular basis. You’ll be in charge of making starters for a busy pub. But don’t be afraid; pretty much every starter is created by deep-frying things! That’s right! Your love of boiling things in oil can finally be put to a practical use for the good of society. Doesn’t it feel great to know that?

The ideal candidate for this position will know that when things turn black they’ve been in for too long, will be able to produce a prawn cocktail using the very cheapest and worst possible ingredients and will also be aware that mixing tomato ketchup and mayonnaise is an adequate substitute when all the seafood sauce has run out. Must also not be averse to occasionally having their hat filled with apple sauce, gravy and/or jam.

Important Document Consultant

Do you know where the “Print” function in Microsoft Word is? Perhaps you even know what the shortcut key is! You’ll be in charge of receiving emails from other members of this busy office who are too lazy to print things for themselves. Your task will be justified under the name of “top copying”, which still means “print”, don’t worry. And don’t worry about proofreading; these people are professionals! Any mistakes they made are entirely intentional and are probably the fault of the audio typists anyway. Those bastards.

The perfect person for this position must have an exceedingly high boredom threshold and must not carry any sharp objects with which they might be able to slit their own wrists. They must also have a sense of self-esteem so low that they don’t mind doing something which clearly the person who wrote the document in the first place would be able to do. They must also not be easily susceptible to papercuts, eyestrain, backache, flatulence, dysentry, gangrene or AIDS.

Classroom Shouting Representative

Do you like children? You won’t once you’re finished with us! Have you long been frustrated that too much knowledge is imparted in classrooms? Then come and show us how it’s really done! We’ll put you into a classroom full of 9-year olds who act like they’re stroppy teenagers! We won’t tell you anything about the colourful backgrounds that their families have! We’ll let you get threatened by parents who believe that their way, not the way of polite society, is the way to go! Polite society is boring, anyway!

Key competencies for this role include low self-esteem, a low threshold for irritation, a loud shouting voice and the desire to not actually pass any knowledge on at all! Even if there are maybe one or two kids who obviously want to learn something! No. Working in a classroom is about bad behaviour!

#oneaday, Day 175: Please Insert Disc 2

Every day, it feels more and more like life is coming to the end of a chapter. No-one has said that irritating “as one door closes, another one opens” truism at me this time around, but I’m sure more than a few people have thought it. But the fact is, things are coming to a conclusion here. As much as I hate the thought of it, it’s looking like the “Southampton” chapter of my life is coming to an end. At some point in the next couple of months, it will be time to save my game, swap discs and enter a brand new tomorrow. Whether Disc 2 contains the same geography and different cutscenes or a whole new world map to explore remains to be seen. But it’s going to happen, regardless, and there’s nothing I can do about that. Events that were set in motion over a year ago have brought things to this stage. It sucks, but the best way through it is to just grit one’s teeth and shoulderbarge through it, hoping that nothing grabs on and bites me in the neck or anything.

My metaphors are getting more and more mixed and tortured, so I’ll stop that there. Let’s just say that tomorrow is going to be the beginning of the end of this chapter. I’m going to put my notice in on my flat. I can’t afford it by myself. And I don’t like to be a drain on my parents’ resources, as awesome as they have been to me. More to the point, cutting all ties with the past will be much easier once this place, full of those crystallised memories as it still is, is left behind.

The beginning of the next chapter is what is not clear. On Friday, I have a job interview. This job is based in Bristol. I have nothing against Bristol, and in fact have two friends who live there already and like it very much. But something doesn’t quite feel “right” about this job. I can’t explain it. It’s like a feeling in my gut. “Don’t do this,” it says. “It’s not right. However good the pay is.”

After some careful consideration and the advice of a close friend, I’m going to do the interview anyway and scope out the company. Unlike past interviews I’ve had for school-based positions, “real jobs” don’t tend to put you on the spot and insist you take or leave it straight away. Or so I’m led to believe, anyway. If nothing else, there should be a waiting period while they deliberate and do whatever they do with ticklists, points systems, dark sacrifices and… hey, I’ve never recruited anyone, all right? I have no idea how it works. In that time, I can reflect on whether or not it’s the right thing to do.

The alternatives are as follows.

1. To find a cheap crappy flat here in Southampton and pray that another job I applied for today comes off. Said job is based in Reading, which is in commuting distance of Southampton. I could move to Reading, but I really don’t want to as it’s a shithole. Job in question is right up my alley, though, and paid well. It was only advertised a few days ago, though, so it may be some time before I hear from that.

2. To move back home for a while. To that end, my good buddy Edd has promised to put in a good word for me at his place of employment in Cambridge. I have mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, moving back home will be a good way to raise some money, get back on my feet and basically deal with all this. On the other hand, it means leaving behind people who are very important to me. I can always go and visit them, sure, but it’s not the same as knowing they’re just around the corner from me. Cambridge is a long way from Southampton. At the same time, though, I get to hang out with people I haven’t had the chance to hang out with for extended periods of time for ages.

3. To look somewhere completely different. I’ve pretty much ruled this one out. If I don’t get the Bristol gig, I’m not moving to an unfamiliar city if at all possible.

It’s a difficult situation, but the sooner I come to terms with the fact that dealing with it is going to involve some sacrifices—God knows I’ve had to put up with enough of those already—the better.

Here’s a promise then: by Day 200 on this blog, decisions will have been made and my path will have been set. For better or worse.

#oneaday, Day 165: I’ll Job You In A Minute

The astute amongst you will have noticed from the frequency of my tweeting, Facebook updating and the fact I had time to draw several cack-handed Paintbrush portraits of a few friends today that I still am not in possession of gainful employment. The supply teaching seems to have dried up, too—and yes, I am chasing them up before anyone even thinks about nagging me about it—so there’s not a lot to do each day except do the rounds on the Internet desperately trying to see if there are any jobs worth doing.

Job hunting, as I’ve said before, is a distressing, depressing experience. Jump onto a jobseekers’ website and you’re confronted with the possibility of “OMG THOUSANDZ OF JOBZ 2 CHOOSE FROM!!” and only then do you realise you have absolutely no idea what sector you’re qualified to work in. A huge list of job types appear in front of you, and not one of them seems to quite fit with what you want to do. Am I interested in “Printing and Publishing”? Or “Media”? Or “New Media”? Or “Web Content”? Or “Information Technology”? God knows.

So you tick all the boxes. Then you get told you’re only allowed to tick three at a time. So you pick the three that you think are most relevant and tell it to search. It soon becomes apparent why you’re only allowed to tick three boxes. That’s because ticking just three boxes gives you roughly thirty-two thousand listings to look through, the vast majority of which are miscategorised. That’s not a word, according to the spellchecker, but I’m officially coining it here and now.

I digress. The fact is that there’s a ton of jobs listed that have nothing to do with the categories they’re listed in. How is an “IT Sales Executive” anything to do with the “Travel and Tourism” sector? Answer: it’s not. Bored or underhanded recruiters simply inserted the job listing into EVERY category to ensure it gets seen, thereby making the whole category selection process in the search procedure utterly meaningless.

“Use the keyword search!” you may say. But the truth is, I have no idea what keywords to search for. I look for “writer” and all manner of unrelated nonsense comes up. I look for “journalist” and all the PR jobs which say “this post is not suitable for a journalist” come up. I look for “KILL ME NOW” and a job in Asda comes up. I may have made that last one up.

It occurred to me today that a lot of the work I’ve done recently—paid and otherwise—has come about via social networking. My current regular gig writing news for Kombo came about through a friend who worked on the side – the fine and hairy Mr Jeff Grubb – and my past work on promotional materials for Good Old Games also came about via responses to tweets.

Are we getting to the stage where the traditional job advertisement is becoming meaningless? It’s entirely possible. They’re already filled with nonsensical jargon that is presumably designed to sort out the people who can do the job from the people who can’t. But in these days of easy connections between people online, that personal connection is much more important, it seems.

So with that in mind, you have over 165 days of material with which you can get to know me pretty well. Who wants to hire me?

No? All right. Here’s a video of a cat.

One A Day, Day 35: Eve of the War

Don’t know what happened with yesterday’s post – I definitely wrote the whole thing, but for some inexplicable reason, half of it disappeared. Oh well. Can’t go back now.

Well, here it is – the end of my week-long vacation, which has gone by far too quickly for my liking. I feel suitably rested – or I did, at least. Right now? I don’t feel very good about tomorrow. I have a 40 mile drive followed by 8 hours of being somewhere I don’t want to be with people I don’t want to be with, followed by another 40 mile drive back. But at least there are only four weeks to go. Four weeks! I can manage that, right? Of course I can.

It’s the other obstacles that are in my way that are stressing me out more, to be honest. The daily grind I can just about deal with, by simply telling myself “It doesn’t matter” (in the style of The Rock) repeatedly, over and over again. The things I’m not looking forward to are the two-day Parents Evening (yes, you read that correctly – a two-day Parents Evening), where I will inevitably be stuck 40 miles from home until late at night; the inevitable re-inspection of the school (which, knowing it doesn’t matter, I don’t really care about the result of but still don’t want to have to put up with the stupidity of); and finding a new job.

I don’t have a new job yet. I have applied to several. I haven’t heard anything back from any of them yet, but going on past experiences of applying for jobs, HR departments are extremely slow. I haven’t given up hope yet, and the Universe may well surprise me by throwing something I actually want to do for a good amount of money my way. Until then, though, the uncertainty is the killer. If I had the security of knowing that I had a new job to go to – to look forward to – after the end of this particular nightmare, I’d feel a lot better about my remaining time.

Still, can’t be helped. All I can do is just keep applying for things and eventually someone will appreciate me. Right? Right. Of course.

On a lighter note, we recorded the SquadCast for Machinarium tonight – an adorable little indie point-and-click adventure featuring robots and no language. My current tentative plan is to edit that next weekend, so keep an eye out for that one. Also watch this space for more exciting Squadron of Shame podcast news.

See, I like doing that stuff. The annoying thing is no-one wants to pay me for it!

One A Day, Day 34: Progress Update

Well, I have to say, this is going well so far. Doubly so given that the original proponent of the whole “oneaday” thing has given up. It’s fair enough, really – committing yourself to writing something every single day, even if it’s complete crap and doesn’t mean anything to anyone but yourself can be a bind, but I’ve made sure (so far) to ensure that I don’t get behind – even if that means frantically typing something on my iPhone while lying in bed, or typing something at 3 in the morning while pissed up on gin and tonic.

So the blogging’s going well, at least. I’m approaching the end of my week off now, though, and my body is starting to let me know this fact. I hadn’t been directly thinking about my return to work, but still I’ve developed a cough and a horrible nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomac

[The remainder of this post disappeared into WordPress oblivion – only noticed today. Apologies!]

One A Day, Day 2: More Bollocks

Here we are again. Good evening. What to talk about today?

I was all set to do an immensely amusing post where I wrote down all those stupid random thoughts that come into your head and you really want to say out loud but then don’t because they’d make you look like an imbecile. But I forgot to write anything down, apart from the one I had in the shower last night which, for the record, was “Don’t you hate it when you’re in the shower and close your eyes to stop the soap going in, but nearly fall asleep?” – because I’d closed my eyes to stop the soap going in and had nearly fallen asleep. That’s what I get for showering at midnight after taking an actually-not-that-ill-advised run at a late hour in the evening while our podcast uploaded.

So I have to think of something else to write about. Having been at work all day and not listened to the news I can’t even comment on that… or can I?

*checks BBC News*

Oh, right. Cadbury got taken over by Kraft or something. I did know that, probably thanks to Twitter. Job cuts bad. Cheesy chocolate bad. Boo hiss, and so on.

Okay, that’s the news covered, what did I get up to today? Well, I applied for another job. Most of you know how much I bitch and moan about how much I hate my job, so I applied for another one that I thought I’d like. I enjoy the writing, as should hopefully be apparent from this site (and also this one – the new home of my games-related ramblings), so a writing-based position sounds right up my alley. At this point, I’m not even too bothered if it means a pay cut, as the employer in question (whom I won’t reveal for the moment so as not to jinx things) is pretty high-profile and has a lot of potential for building a future career.

Ugh. Hate phrases like that. So management-speaky. Sometimes you have to use it, and it sucks. One thing I want to make sure I never do is become one of those tossers who sits in their office in a patronising manner, talking to employees about “going forward” and saying that “as a manager…” blah blah blah whilst simultaneously crippling said employees’ self-esteem and sense of independence. Yes, I do have some specific examples in mind but it would be unprofessional and unkind of me to mention them by name.

It’s Charlie Brooker’s Newswipe tonight, a fact which the BBC have inexplicably left off their own site. Charlie Brooker’s work is always a laugh and a half, so I’m looking forward to this new series. Plus I might actually have something to say about the news after watching it. You never know.

Well, that’s today’s brain-dump done and dusted. Two-day combo! I might make it to the end of the year yet.