It's been a long time since I have looked forward to waking up the next day. For months I have laid in bed, solemnly watching the clock tick over as morning creeps ever closer and my night time solitude is ripped from beneath me. It was a problem. My life went from being really quite nice to being really quite horrible in a matter of weeks as drip by drip my friends moved on and my days went from having fun to being seemingly tortured just so I could earn enough money to survive.
For the few people who spent any time with me during my first foray into full time employment, you will have noticed I was not myself. As much as I appreciated the opportunity and as much as I am hugely thankful for the doors it has opened up for me, I simply did not fit in into that sort of environment. I scraped my way through nearly three months of it before finally we went our separate ways and the relief I felt upon leaving was incredible. I hadn't realised quite how unhappy I had been until that moment. After a couple of hours of feeling sorry for myself and wondering how on earth I was going to pay the next months bills, I realised the move was probably in my best interests. I had gained some invaluable experience during my time there and met some really interesting people. I'd also produced quite a lot of now live work which, if you ever go to Boston or Sleaford, or wish to hire work-wear from a well known site, you will see some examples of. But at the end of the day it was not for me. I knew that, my boss knew that and my gerbils knew that, as often they would be all I had around to moan to it about when I returned home.
So, with a now very nice looking CV sat in my "recent documents" file, I spent the next month sat in front of my TV doing very little. I hadn't had a holiday, or even a day off really, since I'd finished university. I had gone into work before my final show had even been put up, so I'd gone straight from one pressure cooker and into another. I didn't have time to get my head around things. I barely had time to breath. Add to that I moved into a new flat and had to start paying council tax (what a rip!) and you had yourself a very stressed out me. A bit of time to myself was exactly what I needed, and I aptly spent it doing nothing at all. I stopped writing, which is what I had been doing for three years solid more or less. I stopped thinking, which I'd been doing even longer, and I stopped caring. I grew an impressive beard over that month and left the house very infrequently to avoid the looming looks a bright ginger wad of facial hair is inevitably going to attract. My CV was beginning to look beautiful, so much time I had to prune it, but it began to dawn on me that no matter how nice it looked it wasn't going to earn me any dollar by just sitting on my desktop.
Thus I shaved.
My face felt the fresh air of the outdoors again and I began doing odd bits of freelance work here and there, as and when the opportunities arouse. Graduation came and went, proving to be one of the most enjoyable days of my life to date and a fantastic chance for me to see my friends again after such a painful hiatus. It's weird, really. I'd never been one to rely on friends for support, largely because I never tended to have that many, but I'd formed a pretty nice little circle. These were people who'd been integral to my life for quite a while now and I probably hadn't noticed it until after they had gone. It was nice to rebuild that circle, if only for a week. I felt like myself again while they were here, even if certain events didn't quite go to plan. But then, nothing I plan ever does work out as intended, so it's probably best I don't bother in the future.
After all this I was feeling really quite motivated. As much as freelancing had allowed me to be my own boss and do my own thing largely, it didn't provide any financial security and it began to get a bit tedious sitting in my living room every day watching Gilmour Girls whilst writing copy after copy for the spattering of companies that came my way. I needed something a bit more inspiring. I needed a reason to get up in the morning.
I've finally found that reason.
If this was a book, which by the way I am writing but not about this as it would be rubbish, this would be the bit where a girl came into the picture. Alas, a girl has not come into the picture. At least not one who has stayed about for any length of time. No, the reason I have found is that someone else decided it would be wise to employ me. This sounds a bit sickening, doesn't it? And admittedly if I was reading this from someone else I would also be thinking it was a bit pathetic that someone had fallen for a job in such a way. I always hoped I would love the thing I did for work, but imagined this would be in a few years time when everything had fallen into place. I didn't imagine it would be now.
I am happy to have been proved wrong. It gives me a reason to be bothered again, happily coinciding with the start of my masters to fill my mind with inspiration once again. As nauseating as all this sounds, it is true. As much as I still don't feel that fond of getting up in the morning, after the initial, "I don't want to go to school today" drama is over, I feel quite sprightly. Everything, right now, is just fine.
Today at work I got to see some glass viruses made by a world renowned artist. Last week I tried on a Roman helmet and drank free wine at a private exhibition opening. Long may it last.
