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April is the Cruellest Month Nice overcast Friday morning. Had a few pints last night with Scott and Joss before heading out to see The Coral. The show was fantastic fun and the band was excellent. This week has been long and busy; I�m very much looking forward to the next two days off. What�s better yet is that both next week and the following are four-day weeks due to the Easter bank holidays. Four days work, four days off, four days work. Not too shabby. I�ve been offered the opportunity to apply for a 6 month fixed term contract here at the place of my current temporary employment. It would provide me with the stability of a job and steady pay, plus 15 days vacation, paid sick time, and flexi-time. I�d also be making more than I make now which is very, very nice. Do I really want to spend another six months sat at this desk? No. Would it be a wise decision to apply for the position as it would afford me ample opportunity to search out other career avenues? Probably. We shall see but for now, I can say that if offered the job, I think I would take it. Tonight we�re meeting up with some friends for a few much needed apr�s work drinks. Tomorrow I�m being interviewed by a friend�s sister for a Uni project she�s doing on the impact of the Internet on people�s lives, and then we�re heading out to Essex for some dancing and frivolity Mexican stylee. Ole! Sunday I think we�re off to Greenwich with a few peeps in honour of Nancy�s birthday. We�ll tour the park, look at the clocks, and maybe even down some pie and mash. �PIE AND MAAASH!� All in all, the weekend is looking very full and very fun. Too bad it�s only a two-day one this time around. I�ve been writing and thinking about writing a lot lately. God, how I love it and how I wish I were confident in my own abilities. I think I�ve made the decision to force myself to just be more confident and to get off my ass and start making things, submitting stories, and creating. I�m tired of being a shadow artist and admiring other people�s work with a mixture of awe and envy when I know damn well that I could do similar things if I only put my mind to it. Sometimes I wish you could see me now. I wonder whether my capriciousness and independence would shock you, whether my confidence would unnerve. Then I realise that you no longer think of me, as often as I think of you, and remember that I no longer need your approval.
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