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…