deep contemplations & my first day

Wow, so my first day was pretty darn cool. Exhausted come day-end, but that's probably because I had so much new information going through my head, and I have to adapt to an 8-6 again.

So much to learn, and I have a fantastic mentor. Be still my jangly nerves: I'm pretty stoked.

Wow all this change...it feels like I'm a completely different person to who I was two months ago. And I am. Hell. This whole period has left me with all sorts of questions, not even directed at anyone specifically, just questions.

One of my findings in this mumbo jumbo “trying to find enlightenment” crap, is that the human race is split 50/50. When it comes to good and evil. I used to believe that every single person in this world – fucked up or not – was good deep down. Peel away the layers and somewhere everyone has a heart. I dunno about this anymore. In fact, I do know – let's just take that Austrian fucker as the worst example.

A dude has children with his daughter who, at 18, he locks up in a cellar. Then proceeds to also have an “upstairs” family with his allegedly unassuming wife. I mean, how the fuck did something that fucking insane and inhumane live to get away with this for over twenty years?
His daughter is now in hospital with a mock bunker built about her, because she and her children (one who is dying of an in-bred related disease), are so disoriented with the light of day.

I just don't understand the evil side of human nature. Even to a smaller degree, those who don't appear to have any sort of conscience or heart.
Those who walk away from something seemingly and completely uncaring.

And what is it with Austria and Belgium? Two beautiful countries, steeped both in history, gorgeous landscape, and first world amenities, how come so many paedophiles and crazy fucks seem to spring from there? OK, I can't generalise, but I'm just trying to fucking understand. Maybe a small faction of these societies are having an identity crisis. Belgium isn't quite France, and Austria isn't quite Germany.

I don't know. I'm trying every angle to get to the bottom of human depravity at the moment. There has to be an explanation for such behaviour, come on? Maybe the world just needs balance in order to survive. There are good people and there are bad people. Before I thought, “what happened to these people? It must've been hectic. They were born good deep down!”

But they're not. Humanity is split 50/50. This is why people refer to Earth as both Hell and paradise at the same time. There are dark elements and there are light ones too. All due to the human race and its basic flaws, and our impact on the planet in general. Not everyone can be trusted, not everyone feels the same as you and I do (or you and I don't do.)

And it's an important lesson. In not trusting, and equally importantly, in letting go.
It's a balance you have to learn.

Anyway enough about that. Heavy stuff for a Tuesday morning. Shit. I was in one of those deep, contemplative moods.

Nuff about that. Back to work!

so much change, so little time

So, for almost three months now, I have been interviewing with an incredible company, and have been offered a job with them. It's been a long tough process, and the process itself has been an enormous learning curve.

My feet are still, five days later, not quite on the ground as I write this. Honestly, it hasn't sunk in yet.
All this change is kind of overwhelming, exciting and terrifying at the same time.

I figured - when all that shit of a few weeks ago happened and continued to happen...and continued to happen – only if I got this job, I'd stay in Johannesburg. That was the plan, give or take, at any rate.

In the meantime, I'd been organising an ancestral visa to the UK in case I didn't get this job. Why the UK? (And not Berlin – my first choice?) It is the easiest and quickest place to get to. And there was a time when I wanted to leave here pretty fucking quickly. As a result, I had all the paperwork ready. I was already imagining my life over there: and it would be fairly obscure. I was going to go start over, and make Brit friends and eat Spotted Dick. I applied for 7 jobs in London in a wild frenzy.

Then I got the job here. And frankly, I'm ecstatic. I am so excited, I can't even begin to describe it. I've looked up at the clouds and said to whomever is listening OK, so what the fuck. Is this why? To balance out all the shit you've dished me? How is it you have helped me achieve something against every fucking possible odd out there?

The great news is I still get to go to London and Dublin at the end of May. For training. I am absolutely so excited, Jesus, I am so chuffed and excited I could literally dance about the streets flashing my fanbelt to whoever is willing to notice.

Never been to Dublin before, how surreal. All this change, everything, it's all so insane. Dooblin!

When my notice period is up for my current apartment, I'll be moving into a little place all on my own. I'm scouting out new homes at this very moment, the pressure is on. I saw the first place last night. It's strange looking for a place on your own. I've only ever done it with boyfriends and flatmates. The place seemed very cold last night, and I don't want to live in a cold place. It has to be something that immediately grabs me. I'm not sure if I want to leave my house, it's become that much of a comfort zone. Maybe I should just stay. Arrgh, what to do, what to do.

So much to do and organise before I start working full-time again.

The universe works in the most mysterious ways. And I still don't understand it.

doodiloo doodiloo

OK enough's enough – I need to get some kind of non-permanent job soon or I'm going to go crazy. I am still waiting on a few things, so that's why I have to drag my heels. I have two huge options, and sadly, these could only fall into place a month from now.

I'm so cabin fevered I could literally...start a cult religion.

I mean, for one – I have watched seasons 1-9 of Seinfeld. I love Lainy, I want to be Lainy, I am in love with Elaine. She's ruthless. She does whatever the fuck she wants. Lainy is amazing. Get me out of my apartment!

Secondly, The Internet thing was good for a few days. It lost it's edge. And now it's freaking me out.

I have finished my scarf. With tassles and everything. What the fuck am I going to do now? I mean, 3RM told me I looked very Parisian yesterday. (Quoi?)

It's a very flattering compliment. And a small victory in my day, when one has no big goals, small victories turn into huge things.

I look very... Rive Gauche, he said. Not like a small cretin that lives on the banks of the Seine River? No, no, I look like a frustrated French artist. Ah, so I'm still me. Only better. Good.

“But I don't own a beret!”
3RM: “Only American tourists wear the berets, come on. You have the slightly disheveled hair, the sunglasses, the scarf and the demeanour.”

Wow. (Mais merci, mon invalide. Passez-moi les Gauloises Blondes!)

3RM, an experienced slacker, was trying to teach me how to be one. Because slackers generally don't give a shit, or plan for the future and all that – and now would be an apt time to try it out properly. I need to learn though. I'm way too ADD to be a slacker. I need to do shit all the time, or else I go a little bit mental.
So I can't really be a true slacker. Slackerism doesn't come au naturelle to me, sadly.

I'm unemployed and not really enjoying it. Although just looking at my scarf for a few minutes feels like I'm on drugs. It's this psychadelic I-just-took-acid, all-colours-of-the-rainbow woolen specimen. And if I stare at it long enough – I have the time, let's face it – it makes me feel like I'm tripping.

Arrgh. At least I have a few freelance writing opportunities, and one of my contracts has just been renewed. Yay! But still, I can't even rent movies from the shop across the road because I owe them 400 bucks. (Turns out the DVD was under a pile of magazines for 3 months.)

Chrysler Neon.

PS: Eminem has a track on his Greatest Hits CD entitled “Fack.” Now I love Eminem, I have an extraordinarily soft spot for the Detroit trailer prodigy. But Fack? Dude. I expected more from you. What was ever wrong with a good old fashioned Fuck? Is Fuck too risque for you suddenly? You going soft on me big boy? Jesus man, FUCK. ITS FUCK, NOT FACK.

Anyhoo.

Had dinner with The Dove last night. In a public space. Daring, not to mention great that they served cold wine by the glass. (Can't afford, or be asked to consume the entire bottle.)

The Dove is in film, and more recently has ventured into full-time advertising. She's a talented talented girl. We've decided we're going to write a script together. Maybe an art film, maybe a sitcom, maybe even a slasher movie. Whatever. Might as well give it a bash.

oh crap

I'm Mozambleak. As from Friday, I work for Wibble on a freelance basis. Our budgetary constraints mean that I cannot be employed full-time on the site, it's just not feasible.

The good news is, I'll still be involved with Wibble, my baby, my project – on some level. The bad news is, I'm unemployed. Fuck fuckity fuck fuck fuck.

I have mere weeks to find a new sparkly full-time 8-5 before completely plugging it via bankruptcy. Times are tough.

During my six months at Wibble, we created and 'built' the site, of which took three months. Hiring someone savvy with Drupal, and who could squeeze in time to do all the techie stuff. We also had to do this by ourselves with the only budget permissible: my salary. So really we had three months to take off. The time frame, realistically, was too small. And thus we'll continue, but in the spare time I have once I am (hopefully) employed very soon.

I still have high hopes for Wibble, and I want to see it through to the end...or hopefully non-end. I always knew it was going to be a six months trial period to see if it would work, I knew the risk I was taking. And I have learnt quite a bit in these six months. If only we had only more budget and resources, perhaps I could've stayed on longer full-time. However, freelancing for Wibble means it's not all gone before we see the fruits of our work.

In the meantime, I'm unemployed. And with a holiday in the Seychelles wedged oh so conveniently in between (fuck this for timing), I'm bordering on panic.

I haven't collapsed in anxiety yet, and am surprisingly calm about being in the ranks of the unemployed. It could be because my sorrows were drowned on Friday night with a few gin and tonics with the helps of my mates, followed by an amazing dinner at The Codfather, where Mr 747 took me to. We walked out a bit blotto – but hell those prawns and Norwegian salmon were incredible.

Saturday was Ant's farewell and birthday party, where we dressed up like partygoers in Secunda, following from a friend's birthday picnic at the Zoo.
We saw an elephant with a giant nomthondo. My wordy word.

So. CV updating time. In between bills, a new flatmate who has just moved in, managing my budget, cutting back on smoking (what an apt time to choose), and generally trying to keep it together until I find a full-time job.

Shit.