Reaching higher ground

I lose count of how many people get in my way in London. Slow-moving, soft-brained people. As a result, I am late to the train, late to work, and late to bed. So to those who plan on lolling and lunging directly into my path tomorrow, I submit to you this memorandum: I don't care what it takes - buy sportier shoes, eat more vegetables, hitch up your pants - just get out of my way.

Same with those that take all the jobs. Turtle people that barge into the best jobs, and then fail to work.

Yesterday I stayed home sick with lumpy glands and a cough, hence the blog make-over.

Applied for many jobs, cold calling city editors, only to be blocked by PAs with guard-dogs. Couldn't sleep and couldn't read, so I turned on the television, unleashing a parade of idiocy. An endless stream of big-teethed women and shouting men making over houses, careers, and abdomens. Cooing over trouser hangers and iron cleaners. Absurdly fit and tanned people torturing obesity sufferers with tazers (well, no, but it's believable). Americans being American and English wearing tweed and solving gruesome murders in Somerset.

Got a call from major PR firm about one of my applications. Not suitable for the role that I applied for, but another role better suited to my skills and editorial experience blah blah blah. Agree to meet for interview on Monday, but after words like 'liaise with clients' (noone but PR says 'liaise') and 'value-add to account team' ('value-add', puh-leeease!!!) were thrown my way with no clear job description, I asked them to send me some info. Long and short of it, it's exactly the job I'm doing now. Yep, that's right, case study writing. Is that the only 'value-add' that this city thinks I can offer? Regretting turning down CNet now - for what? My pride?

Post-relationship administration is very tiring. Your stuff, my stuff, black tops, lost photos. I even had an ex print photos of a holiday we took together, then pop all the photos of me in an envelope and charge a mutual friend to with the task to deliver them to me with the message 'he has no use for these anymore. What would he want with them?'.

That reminds me, must get ex to burn a CD of the photos from farewell night.

After a quick email to thank him for dropping off my things, I completed another masochistic blog check. Lately, it seems I have reached a higher ground of sorts. It's lonely up here, on higher ground. I can see middle ground from here. The place we never seem to reach. Can also see the high tide mark of our passion, where it reached its peak before washing away, leaving this detritus of mascara, black T-shirts, guitars and photos to divvy up.

Fark I hate colds.