deejay

I know this is probably not a startling new revelation, but there you have it.

I've been here two weeks, and what have I accomplished? Nada. Well, that's not true. I've managed to unpack and clean and cook and do quite a bit of laundry. I drove some friends to Ikea. I went to the park and read a book. Actually, I've been going through about a book a day. I made a lame ass lamp covering. I met another friend for lunch. I attended a party. Um. That's about it really.

All wonderful things, to be sure. But none of them involves getting a job or finding other work. I haven't put finger to keyboard, except to play about a million games of spider solitaire. And hearts. An evil, EVIL card game that I had to erase from my favourites because it turns me into a mean spiteful angry bitch.

I'm beginning to feel more than a little bit guilty about it too. Everyone I talk to politely asks about my job prospects and I have to tell them the grim truth. POlus, I made the mistake of telling people all about my super ambitious plans of making the rounds at all the local papers to get some freelance or subbing shift work. When they ask how that's going, I have to admit that I have yet to do a damn thing on that front either. Then there's my mother. I need not go there, do I? I think you can guess how that's going.

On a positive note, I landed my first interview! Woo hoo! It's Wednesday, in Edinburgh. It's for press officer at a law society. Yeah. That means dressing up in a skirt and heels! Eeps! Terrifying! But god help me, I want the job. It's about my only prospect just now, and I NEED it. So, fingers crossed and all that, okay?

What else? Oh yeah, back to that party I so briefly mentioned before. After several days shut in with only my lovely boyfriend to look at, I was muy excited at the prospect of going out and seeing other people. Which does not seem surprising, but if you know anything about my recent grumpy old antisocial tendancies, is shocking. Woo! Turning a corner, me. Reverting back to my good old self. Or something. I even made an effort tarting myself up a bit. It was to be quite the rock star party, a welcome bash for an American friend who's moved into the old flat. Yeah, she's already more popular than me and she's only just arrived. Ha! This would depress me except that a) she's lovely and deserves the attention, and b) I've been a grumpy old antisocial bum, this making no effort anyway and are therefore not deserving of the attention.

Anyway... party prospects! I was so looking forward to mingling with some new faces, some fresh blood. I was feeling so social butterfly! Plus, I'd be spending the first hour or so alone, as Richard was working. No offense meant here, but it's good from time to time to remind yourself of what you were like before your identity became half of a couple, you know?

Needless to say, it wasn't as fantastic as I had set it out to be. It wasn't awful either, don't get me wrong! It was just... same faces. In a way too familiar venue, ie my old flat. Somehow hanging around my old living room for hours on end, sitting on the same droopy sofa I sat on every day for a year, didn't seem as exciting as I had hoped. There were only a handful of rock stars, all of whom I already knew intimately. Er... not THAT intimately. Although technically I have kissed most of them. Innocently, of course. New years. Yeah. Anyway...

It was good to catch up with friends. And the time flew! Before I knew it, it was 2am and I had gone through an entire bottle of wine. Good times.

I need to spice things up, but I don't know how. I don't have the energy or patience to meet new people. I can barely keep up with the old ones. Pathetic. I'm in a social rut. And with Marisa recently arrived, I'm reminded of what it was like when I first moved here two years ago, about how everything, everyone seemed so exciting. I remember the people I spent all my time with, who I just couldn't get enough of. Now I don't even return their phone calls. Sad! I also worry that I've become one of those people who get into a relationship and distance themselves from everyone else. It wasn't intentional. Just laziness. And now that I need a break from constant coupleness, I try to reconnect with people who gave up on me ages ago. Classic. Pathetic.

I've also begun to fantasize again. I haven't done so in at least two years, maybe more. It used to lead to bursts of creative writing, in some cases entire novels would result. But given my current state of laziness, it results in nothing except and hour of staring at my solitaire game, listening to an old favourite album, being transported to a different time and place entirely, in my mind. Hmmm. This time, it's the basement of my old college campus centre, in the booth at the local radio station. I am a saddo late night DJ, playing obscure indie records to a handful of saddo fans. Before a visit from a famous friend rockets me into fame. Yeeeeeeah. Now you know why no one is allowed to read any of my sad creative drivel.

Am I happy yet? When will that happen? Hmmm...