careering off the road

Life sometimes likes to beat around the bush. I however don’t.

I want a job. I want a job that suits me. I want a job that I can enjoy, without it devouring my life inside out. I want a desk, a computer. I want to sit and type dribble. Or drivel. Generally I want to just show the world that I am probably worth paying some money.

It seems however, that in some overblown humongous conspiracy, that the world has a different plan. Mother Earth, in her wrath, has chosen to commit the mass population to a recession just to spurn my applications. She has spread viral influenza to pretend that she is trying to make it easier for me, but I know her game. She herself has been recruiting. She’s hired Fate. He’s trying to impress the new boss, and so Mother Earth and Fate have had a board meeting.

The agenda?

Will Rimmer’s career.

Mother Nature hammers the table. “This man must be stopped!”

She points at a file including pictures of a young male, who is dashing in a subtle way. (He’s also written that he’s confident, motivated and ambitious. Application forms…)

Fate humbly nods, picks up the phone and says simply “It’s on.” The boys acknowledge the message, and head to the cars.

Since that moment, I have had opportunities, but in Fate’s clasps, I have seemingly been a victim of the tides of employment (Waaah sympathy! Fret not, it’s not required).

I love German. I love writing. I’m a communicator. I’m punctual. Today? Oh, that was the M25′s fault. Apparently Fate decided to drive to the office via a very big fence in the middle of the road. (If you were the person that crashed, I hope you’re ok, but really? Today? There?).

That being said, I do enjoy attending interviews. The nosy Englishman inside me likes to look at how the offices have been decked out, how people interact, what they like people visiting to see. Of the places I’ve been to, Rockstar’s office was the most amazing. Although the signature by the door says that I cannot tell you about it, for fear of Tommy Vercetti turning up on my doorstep, knocking, then raping and shooting me. I don’t want to be shot. Or raped.

One thing I can never tell is how I perform. Aside from the whole Yes / No reply system, I can’t really gauge how I react in the moment. Today’s interview went well I think, but only if the secretary has a say in the recruitment process. Banter was had like no banter before. I love being connected to so many different countries on one continent. Europe is fantastic because there are so many different people and cultures sharing a space that is easily traversable. It’s joyous to meet and chat with people who have had experiences so different that E.T. would seem like a next door neighbour.

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Career ranting aside, life goes well. I keep contemplating dreaming that a career in blogging is a real possibility. But of the sites that I’ve looked at so far, I’m not enthralled at the idea of paying to be paid. Sorry subscription services. Me no like.

Although joining BlogCatalog has been a real eye opener for me: I truly am small fry in the world of blogs and life documentation. There’s people on this site who’ve been doing this years, who have advertisements and awards for their blogs. What do I have? An all time high of 25 views on Tuesday. For me that was headline news. That’s more people reading my blog than real life friends contacting me (erm… is that a good thing?!). It also means that there are people other than my Mum reading this so thank you all (Ugh, and you too Mum, thank you).

Leave a comment now, and I’ll lend you cash when I’m famous.

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And finally, in a swift Have I Got News For You-esque comedic type finale, my only remaining appointment today is with my wife’s coworkers and an oh-so-friendly pint of the local ale. For Fate and Mother Nature have chosen to allow me to earn a living.

By attending pub quizzes.

Wish me luck.

scribbled warbles

Warble. I do like that word. It covers all manner of noise.
I’m coming to see this blog as an appendage these days and with such a metaphor, it seems that currently this appendage is dying for me to release the compress and let it flow once more. I’ve been craving to write something for days, but I lack the direction. So as I type right now, I’m waiting for the spark to kick in.
While we sit in the willbaforce waiting pen, let’s discuss some curios.

My fridge talks. It warbles. It generates this dolphin / whale-esque groan on a day to day basis. So much so in fact, that conversations with it have been possible. Admittedly, I have no understanding of what the fridge or I am saying, but it is real fun to “whummmmmmnnnnnnuunnh?!” at each other when there’s no one else around. If I had the energy, I’d compile a dictionary. But by that point I’d definitely be crazy, and need shooting for my sins.

In more tales of banality, I have a new phone. Yes. I have entered the new generation of touch screen mobiles, with my shiny Nokia 5800 XpressMusic. Who knows why it’s cool to miss the “e” off “Express” but hey, those Finns are crazy cats. I have since fallen in love with this man made artifact, as it has provided me with an on screen qwerty keyboard to type SMS messages out. You never know, this could mean the start of constant blogging, as I’ll be able to blog from my mobile phone. Woah. I am “with” the times people. I already twitter from there, but that’s easy and short. Definitely the challenge will lie in the successful completion of a 600 or so word blog post.

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The current career drive got me truly thinking too. What are my career goals? I mean aside from the prepared, tailored and fashioned interview answers, what do I really want in a career?

I keep saying to Angela (wife) that the key foci at the moment are that it constrains itself to daylight hours and pays enough for us to afford a holiday. But I think there’s a bit more out there. Wishful thinking type thoughts aside (the kind where you think it would be just lovely to be paid to sleep and suchlike, which eventually turn out to be ten times worse than any boring job you can find. I mean sleeping is really the ultimate in monotony. It is nice though).

I wish I knew what it was. I ‘xpect it will rear its working head soon.

I have a few applications that are currently ongoing, which completely suit what I would like from a job. But the waiting for response time is killing me. My brother made me smirk inwardly when I complained about having waited almost two months now for the process to reach the next stage, to which he responded that he had been waiting an entire year for his and even then had to wait a further 3 months just to start. It’s all about the perspective I guess.

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Swine flu is hitting the headlines high currently, with the latest country going under being Germany. I really have mixed emotions towards this “devastating” pandemic possibility, as the news groups would have us believe. Yes. People have died from it, but people die from the normal flu strains every year too. The Bird flu scare was strikingly similar, where the news fluttered its wings (no pun intended) but for the layman, no real threat emerged save the horrific price raises on chicken at ASDA. This time around, again, I find myself worrying less about the chance of catching a life threatening pig flu and more about the possibility that my bacon is going to cost more. And the sausages. Chops too. Gammon.

Thinking about life threats makes me think about my attitude towards my own life. I’m a firm believer in the “it was his time” philosophy, in that I believe completely that fate, or a God of some nature has conspired that I will die on a certain day, from a predetermined cause. I like believing this, because it uninhibits you to try and do silly dangerous activities with little worry for you life. There’ll still be worry, but not the dying kind. More the kind where you’ll almost die, and break every bone in your body in ‘xcruciating pain kind, but that’s less daunting than the dying kind I reckon.

What do you think? Swine flu a killer? Are you worried for you own impending conclusion? What’s your philosophy for life?

On that note, the fridge has started talking. Hmm, low level murmers. I surmise that he is jealous of the coffee maker. I may have to intervene…

elusive pieces

Two days into my new ideas section and I have one request. Laughably, I have had to rely on my own mother to provide something to write about which just shows how lonely this site is. Indeed with it’s meagre average of 5 views a day, it’s hard to expect much else. Embarrassment for the stated fact aside, the idea itself poses a challenge. Having never completed a jigsaw, let alone wonder about their pieces, this topic poses a problem for the writer. So in order to make it that much easier, I am just going to fantasize an answer.

It’s jigsaw pygmies. The average jigsaw pygmy, or “jigmy” as they’re known, can grow to about 5 inches tall. Their habitat usually comprises of either attic or garage like domains, where jigsaw storage provides access to their food stuffs. Indeed the jigmies are very picky creatures when it comes to food. They have a habit of choosing only choice pieces, for example a corner piece or key clue piece (the ones that help you get started). They only have a taste for 1000+ jigsaw pieces, large simple pieces are the equivalent to boiled cabbage. Of course this selective eating style means that as a race, the jigmies are slowly dying out as the supply of corner and key puzzle pieces are eaten. The only way to save this endangered species is for all people to purchase jigsaws of high difficulty, and importantly, store them in an attic or garage. There is no need to play them, the storage will provide them food in their natural habitat, which in turn will prevent them from eating pieces you are currently using. If forced to choose, they are very partial to jigsaws that involve Escher imagery. Don’t ask why. Personally, I think it’s because there’s a higher proportion of edges…

Hope that helped.

In other thoughts of elusive pieces, I started to wonder about other things in life that seem to either lose their track or disappear when least wanted. Keys during moments of tardiness, change (just as you turn the engine off in a car park, when the cashier asks if you have a 20p to make the total), phone numbers written on pieces of paper. They all have that habit of not being available exactly when they are required. Frustrating. So much so that business has been made out of key finders and change purses for many years. This issue isn’t new, but elusive. We will always lose random little things, mainly because at the time of losing them, they are of little importance. It’s the moment that you need them that changes that. In that moment, the location of your key becomes more secretive and secluded than the current headquarters of Al-Qaeda. Osama has nothing on 20ps.

The real blame for all these issues lies within ourselves of course. Due care should be taken to safely house all small items and then the issue of their disappearance will never arise. Not that we’ll learn. An elusive segment of learning is that of learning from other’s mistakes – these small follies are due to be repeated through the generations of time, not because people are ignorant of their elders, but because nobody provides courses on the storage of loose items.

“Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” (George Santayana)

Generally people apply that to year 10 History lessons on the Second World War. But it is applicable to all walks of life. If you keep forgetting that due to inappropiate storage solutions, you lose small items of large importance, then you will be doomed, DOOMED to be forever searching for them.

Other elusive elements in life concern the people of this minor planet who have no determined or definitive career path. Ask most eight year olds what they’d like to be when they are older and they will usually have some sort of dream job that usually is shaped by either their parent’s professions or by interacting with television / literature too much for their own good. Doctors, pilots, soldiers, surgeons, vets. Models, sportsmen, celebrities. It is a fantastic thing when you know which path you want to take. It gives you drive, ambition and pleasure to know that this profession is you. Unequivically you. Unquestionably, it is your career, no other direction even flutters past your thoughts.

Unfortunately, there is a alternate branch of eight year old thinking. Same question, different answer. Or answers. These replies can be condensed into a single word. These children are the “dunno”s. They are all kinds of smart, strong, quick or powerful much like their ambitious counterparts. Except these children don’t know what to do or be. They are searching for that key elusive piece of life. The where and what to do with it. The saddest aspect of all this is that for the majority, they will spend their entire lives searching for it, and NEVER get lucky enough to find it. Pray to your diety of choice that this fate doesn’t become yours, or spend your life proactively searching for it.

The piece may be elusive, but eventually, if you look hard enough, you’ll find it was in the box all along.