When people demand a diary entry, they get one 🙂
However, I didn’t promise it was going to be helpful, insightful, or anything.
A Real Journal Entry, then.
It’s all going to go horribly wrong, I can tell. It is now over one year since I left Sunderland for good, and in that time I’ve managed to get myself a life, a girlfriend, and more recently a flat. I haven’t managed to find a job yet, and the time has come to abandon the weight-of-numbers method of applying for jobs in favour of a more personal, actually-visiting-recruiters method, which will be more expensive, but has a higher chance of sucess. I cannot rely on my CV to sell me, I need to go see people and turn my Krisma at them.
Not that I belive this can possibly work, because I’m still convinced I’m unemployable, but it’s got to be worth a shot, and other people seem to belive in me, even if I don’t.
There hasn’t – I’m told – been enough of me in the diary entries recently. This is simply because there is nothing new to report, I’m waking up every morning, breathing in and out, and continuing to do so all day, to quote from a really sappy movie. Hey, in two weeks I might even be happy with my lot in life, but I really doubt it. I’m riding for a fall. I’m not depressed again, not doing “whirlpool of inky blackness” metaphors, but neither am I dancing for joy. Nothing new, so nothing reported
In House News, I’m shortly off to the bank to get the cheque for the deposit.
In convention news, I’m co-hosting a speculation panel at the Discworld Con. Scary
In news news, PriceWaterhouseCooper’s Consulting division is relabling itself Monday. #Tell me why (I don’t like Mondays)…