Circle

At the start of this year I really wanted to work in advertising. I wanted it more than air, more than coffee, more than that feeling you get when you eat some sugar after coming close to hypoglycemia. I really wanted it. I had plans to achieve it, too. I would find myself a lovely art director who, combined with my abilities with the written word, would create delightful, yet often mildly offensive, adverts that would make the world rejoice and throw up in beautiful unison. We would kick arse. Not only would we conquer our final year of our degree and be crowned prom king and queen at the prom that I made up in my head, but we would also find a placement at a real life agency with ease. We'd likely stroll into the place and be offered a job as soon as our feet touched the ground. We'd be head hunted from afar, going from strength to record breaking strength as our advertising superpowers continued to defy all logical sense.

Ultimately the partnership wouldn't last. The sexual chemistry undoubtedly created when two such creative people are combined would lead to disharmony as she continued to reject my approaches saying, "I like you as a friend Ash. This whole chemistry thing is definitely not mutual." She would move to some other agency, not content with constantly working in my shadow, whilst I would thrive and become the youngest ever Creative Director, winning countless awards on my way. I would no longer merely be known as Ash, more like, "Hey, there's that Ash guy. He's pretty boss at advertising."

That was the plan.

Then, about ten minutes after I'd thought that plan up, it all went to the dogs. I made a catastrophic mistake in deciding there was only one person I really wanted to work with. I banked on her saying yes (see previous few paragraphs.)

She said no.

I didn't really have a plan B. I strolled along through life being amazing on my own, only without the delight to go with my input of "occasionally offensive." My bitter, self obsessed brand of advertising weirdly attracted other potential creative mates, but by then I had made my mind up. I figured that if I didn't like myself for longer than a day at a time, chances are any partner I may encounter would feel the same. It's true about romantic partners; they never last longer than a night. I'd have to be stuck with this person for the rest of the year.

No no, that would not do. I would make this trip alone. It was about then that I decided I no longer wanted to work in advertising.

New plan.

Advertising wasn't good enough for me. If I couldn't have her than I didn't want anyone and the chances of making it as a single are slim, despite my obvious prowess at making crude jokes about any brand you might throw at me. How could an agency say no to that?

Instead I would become a writer. Yeah, that'll be it. I'll write books and poems and make a fortune. I'd probably be published by the end of the week. Who wants me?

Sorry what?

It's going to cost me how much to get published?

What if I told you I could write a blog post about how I came about deciding I wanted to be a writer?

No difference, eh?

Maybe I'll be published by the end of the year. Let's aim for that. It was about this time when not only did my career plan change but my attentions towards a partner of a different kind changed too. I struggle to cope with one problem at a time, but two? This would prove tricky, and, in the end, it proved too tricky. It's a good job the chance to go out and get drunk and get with strangers is always a demoralising possibility else I might start to think people don't like me. This would be an odd assumption (see first few paragraphs.)

Now the year is drawing to an end. Pretty soon I will be the owner of a degree (unless I literally shit in my portfolio and hand that in, in which case I probably won't get one.) I will also be without a job, without any money, without any potential to earn money in the near future and with the prospect of me only being able to afford the first three months of my rent before I effectively become homeless looming over my head.

Weirdly this had led me to contacting lots of local ad agencies in the hope I might find work. Which is almost what I'd planned in the first place.

Back then I'd thought about it because it seemed like the dream.

Now I'm doing it to avoid a nightmare.

On my own as well, and I'm not half as attractive.