i am Schrodinger's Cat...

i'm quietly freaking out right now. back before the end of last year i had a meeting with a pimp to discuss a contract for a housing company out in West London. it looked ok - money wasn't awesome, but acceptable. he thought i was going to be a great fit so i went for it. days passed, other interviews came and went, i did a couple of short contracts and the year ended with no news. game on after NY and i got word that the job was still live, but they'd decided to take it Perm. this generally means that i'm out of the running because no fucker in this town wants to look at a Working Holiday Maker for a perm job, so: shit. wait, what? they're still keen on me? well fuckery. fine by me!

days became weeks and they were taking their sweet fucking time with it, then suddenly they want me for a phone-interview. no problem, i say. the pimp sends me a cheat-sheet with some useful info and i take the call in the kitchen with my laptop in front of me and all my notes spread out. i hit it long, straight and into the crowd for a clean 6. i'm up for a second-round, face-to-face interview, which is confirmed the following week. i'm in there early, looking smart, and i spend the next hour Making An Impression - i've got the answers, i get on with the guys, we joke, we laugh, it's fucking textbook. technical skills? spot on. business process and procedure? i could re-write their books for them. personality and integration? don't even ask. i AM this fucking job. when will they have a decision made? end of the day they'll be in touch with my pimp. i'm fucking stoked.

the day ends and my phone's not rung. the next day's Friday and i'm pacing back and forth in the office in Leicester Square. phone rings at 6PM saying that they love me, they want me, they've already written off everyone but me and some other guy (there are 2 roles going, so i'm not stressed at this), and it's likely he won't accept an offer anyway since he won't take the cash they're offering. awesome. so What The Fuck? they had a candidate reschedule to the following Tuesday and they want to ponder some stuff over the weekend. ok, ok. Tuesday. i'll know Tuesday.

today's fucking Tuesday. i dived on my phone both times it rang to hear the wrong voices from the wrong agencies talking about other jobs. i play it cool and score a send-down (my CV's going in front of the client) for something i don't give a fuck about, but will take if offered since any backup is good. where the fuck is my pimp? i'm climbing the fucking walls here!

basically, this job is next-to fucking perfect. if it were in Central it'd be a dream. we're talking a modern infrastructure which needs a few upgrades, in a team which is rebuilding itself and needs fresh ideas on how to move forward from a hands-on techie who likes to get in and dirty. technology i know and more i want to play with, no sandpits to dance around which means everyone plays with everything. bunch of decent-seeming blokes working to make their world better and a slot for someone who wants to spend the next 18-24 months kicking arse and taking names, and they're offering £40-45k for the priviledge. this sitting at the top of my CV and i'm writing my own ticket - 2 years to ride out the bear market and the sort of role that makes pimps wet themselves. 2 years to get thoroughly sick of London, or not. 2 years to make some cash and work out what the next 10 have in store.

that's what's sitting in my head at the moment while i sit here in a box waiting to know whether i live or die. will the lid open to see me liberated with a golden ticket, or is the isotope going to decay and release the poison that prevents me from ever seeing daylight? i can't see outside the fucking box and my fingernails are stuck to the walls where i've tried to claw my way out. because i'll tell you what: i'm getting really fucking sick of this. this is the one. this is the job. this is the tipping point. if my phone rings tomorrow morning and i get a "i've got some bad news for you," i'm booking a train ticket to Scotland and going backpacking. i've got it all planned... in as much as i'm making a plan. i'll get to Edinburgh, wander around until i'm sick of the idea then find my way to Inverness (probably) for a few days, before moving on to Glasgow (maybe) and then back to London (unless somewhere else interesting blips on my radar). no idea how i'll get around but i know there'll be options. part of the adventure is working it out as i go along and running without a schedule. louise is working, and taking time off when she's not sure as to her future wouldn't be the best move for her (it's looking really good for her in this job, but there's still that uncertainty), but that doesn't stop her from meeting me up for a weekender somewhere - keep up the "travelling together" idea we always discussed before we got on that 'plane.

when i get back here i'll put another week or two into job-hunting again... if i've got the heart for it. as soon as i'm sick of it again i'm thinking Ireland, in the same style as Scotland. i've got the cash to do it. being loathe to spend more than absolutely necessary has meant that my slush-fund is healthy. the short-contracts i've covered have paid enough to keep me in rent, food and entertainment for the month and this has been a huge stress-relief.

of course, if the gods see fit to smile upon this damned soul then i'm looking at weekenders and a bit of settling in. maybe go for those music lessons i've been thinking about starting for far too long now? maybe find a nicer place to live with room for visitors? put some cash together and try to convince a couple of persons to come and pay me a visit and see some of this town? either way things go down i have an idea of how to move forward and that in itself has put a real spring in my step in the last few days. even failure has is opportunities. once again, Chinese New Year is going to be my marker for the end and the beginning. as much as i've long-considered Hope to be a tortuous whore of a feeling, i seem to have some at the moment so for the time being i'm going to go with it.

one way or another i seem to be entering a period of Change. i was flicking through my photo collection with someone or other and they commented that i've pretty much not changed much in the last 5... 6 years? the clothes change as they wear out, but they're still black and similar. the goatee's as it has been for over 10 years now. the pony-tail grew out and stuck for more than 6 so far. am i still thinking the same, "running over the same old ground, year after year"? have i been standing still while the world moves around me? maybe i'm overdue for some re-evaluation and re-consideration. what else should i be Giving Up while i'm in the process of a Slash & Burn? the process has been becoming attractive the more i start to think about it and the results? well, we'll just have to see, won't we?