Oh dear.
Saturday, 27 October 2007
All I seem to do nowadays is worry.
I've got an interview in London on the 6th November and I'm, of course, nervous about that.
Lately though, all I seem to think about is the future.
Job-wise, who knows. The interview in a couple of weeks might go well, it might not. Even then, there's the prospect of either commuting to London or moving closer. I could also look more actively for jobs in Reading, and I'll be applying for jobs in Bath if and when they become available and the time is right.
The problem is that there's just so much uncertainty. I could get a job in any number of places doing any number of things, at any number of different times, for any number of different salary packages. Who knows.
Often it's pretty much, well, terrifying. I could end up living or working in a city, of commuting. It's real life. I'd have to find a place to live - whether renting my own place or in a house with other people or, well, whatever arrangement. It all depends on money and eventual jobs and all that sort of thing.
I have lots of mood swings regarding this, from total and utter sheer scared panic to a bit more confidence whereby I think it'll all be alright in the end.
The thing that's most worrying, though, is the inevitability of it all. I'm going to get a job somewhere, I'm going to move out. I'll move out into the real world with responsibilities and commitments, budgets, mortgages (somewhere down the road, anyway) and, talking of roads, a car. I can't wait until I can pass my test because, even though running a car will most likely be expensive, I can see it being a great source of escape.
It all seems perfectly doable. I've moved out before, obviously, and that worked out fantastically. I guess I had it in my head that I'd be coming home at the end of it. Whatever happens now, though, is more permanent. And it's real, it's my life - they're big decisions and the prospect of making them makes me very, very scared. Often, when I think about it, I run cold.
At the moment I feel alright about it. But even in the periods when I feel alright, and start to think that it'll be OK whatever happens, I still feel a tremendous sense of foreboding all over me. Thankfully the more optimistic moments are becoming more prevalent than they were at the beginning of the week.
I keep thinking that, at the moment, home is great. The house is lovely and full of nice things. And it's taken my parents about 25 years to get this far. I've got this all ahead of me - in an aggressive and expensive property market, no less - before I get anywhere near something like this. If everything goes to plan. Who knows what'll happen?
I keep forcing myself to do things, I don't feel as if I have much of a choice. I'm always looking for jobs and work, no matter where it is, because it's something like postponing the inevitable if I don't. I've only been home from Uni 6 months and I'm already doing this, though. Part of me questions why I'm trying to rush into a job and get out into the real world so soon; that I should wait, keep freelancing, build up contacts and earn some money from it first before diving in to a job. Again, who knows. I'll have to see how various interviews and applications go, perhaps.
We're having fish and chips for dinner tonight and it'll be nice. The house is warm and well-furnished - it's my home. There's Sky TV and fast Internet and it's, well, as I say - home. I don't know how long left I have, though. That's the worst thing. I could, even, not go into journalism. I could try and find something better paid but a little further away from what I want to do. Part of me's asking if by trying to get a magazine job or something so soon that I'm not evaluating the options open to me enough.
This week, though, I did get a copy of Football Manager 2008 for review purposes. Which is nice.
I've got an interview in London on the 6th November and I'm, of course, nervous about that.
Lately though, all I seem to think about is the future.
Job-wise, who knows. The interview in a couple of weeks might go well, it might not. Even then, there's the prospect of either commuting to London or moving closer. I could also look more actively for jobs in Reading, and I'll be applying for jobs in Bath if and when they become available and the time is right.
The problem is that there's just so much uncertainty. I could get a job in any number of places doing any number of things, at any number of different times, for any number of different salary packages. Who knows.
Often it's pretty much, well, terrifying. I could end up living or working in a city, of commuting. It's real life. I'd have to find a place to live - whether renting my own place or in a house with other people or, well, whatever arrangement. It all depends on money and eventual jobs and all that sort of thing.
I have lots of mood swings regarding this, from total and utter sheer scared panic to a bit more confidence whereby I think it'll all be alright in the end.
The thing that's most worrying, though, is the inevitability of it all. I'm going to get a job somewhere, I'm going to move out. I'll move out into the real world with responsibilities and commitments, budgets, mortgages (somewhere down the road, anyway) and, talking of roads, a car. I can't wait until I can pass my test because, even though running a car will most likely be expensive, I can see it being a great source of escape.
It all seems perfectly doable. I've moved out before, obviously, and that worked out fantastically. I guess I had it in my head that I'd be coming home at the end of it. Whatever happens now, though, is more permanent. And it's real, it's my life - they're big decisions and the prospect of making them makes me very, very scared. Often, when I think about it, I run cold.
At the moment I feel alright about it. But even in the periods when I feel alright, and start to think that it'll be OK whatever happens, I still feel a tremendous sense of foreboding all over me. Thankfully the more optimistic moments are becoming more prevalent than they were at the beginning of the week.
I keep thinking that, at the moment, home is great. The house is lovely and full of nice things. And it's taken my parents about 25 years to get this far. I've got this all ahead of me - in an aggressive and expensive property market, no less - before I get anywhere near something like this. If everything goes to plan. Who knows what'll happen?
I keep forcing myself to do things, I don't feel as if I have much of a choice. I'm always looking for jobs and work, no matter where it is, because it's something like postponing the inevitable if I don't. I've only been home from Uni 6 months and I'm already doing this, though. Part of me questions why I'm trying to rush into a job and get out into the real world so soon; that I should wait, keep freelancing, build up contacts and earn some money from it first before diving in to a job. Again, who knows. I'll have to see how various interviews and applications go, perhaps.
We're having fish and chips for dinner tonight and it'll be nice. The house is warm and well-furnished - it's my home. There's Sky TV and fast Internet and it's, well, as I say - home. I don't know how long left I have, though. That's the worst thing. I could, even, not go into journalism. I could try and find something better paid but a little further away from what I want to do. Part of me's asking if by trying to get a magazine job or something so soon that I'm not evaluating the options open to me enough.
This week, though, I did get a copy of Football Manager 2008 for review purposes. Which is nice.
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