|
Insert Clever Title Here Everyone keeps asking me what my plans are, what I�m going to do in the long run. I understand why they ask; it�s a very valid question. The problem is that I don�t really have an answer. Which makes such questions kind of awkward and annoying. It reminds me the months proceeding college graduation. After hundreds of �so, what are you going to do� type questions, I resorted to telling people I was looking into a career in prostitution. That response often put a swift end to the interogation. I moved to London for love and it wasn�t exactly an easy task. I had to obtain German citizenship, convince my parents not to disown me, and say goodbye to my friends and family. Now I am here and so far, so good. I love living with Lee, I have a fairly decent temp job, I finally have a National Insurance Number, and my parents seem to have come to term with the move a bit. I don�t necessarily feel the need to know exactly where I�ll be and what I�ll be doing in two years time. Why is everyone else so curious? This morning I had to attend a meeting at Centre Point, the tallest building in Central London. CP is also the building in which my boy works. We had arranged to meet up for lunch after the meeting, which was due to end around 12:30. A half hour into our little corporate wank session, the fire alarm sounded and we were ushered outside. I have to say it was quite pleasant having an unexpected kiss when we passed each other on the stairs. Unfortunately the meeting ran really long and we had to practically inhale our yummy Italian lunch. So now I�m sitting here banging away at another d-land entry hoping the next 2.5 hours pass quickly. Tonight = cleaning, soup, some writing, and hanging out with Lee�s friend Andy while they watch the football. It should be fun and while I�m not a real footie fan just yet, I won�t pass up an opportunity to ogle David Beckham�s butt. In an attempt to feel more positive about being here for another 2.25 hours, I�ve decided to make a list . . . Jobs far worse than being a temporary office drone for the English government
. . . and finally the number on job that I�m fairly certain is far worse than mine . . .
I guess I do feel a bit better now. Well, I�m off to spend the next two hours doing very interesting and fabulous civil servant crap and then I�m off home to kick up my heels and drink some wine. * * We can�t actually afford wine right now so I�ll probably just be chillin� with some squash.** In an ideal world however, it would be vino all the way. ** Squash for the non-Brits is kind of like juice concentrate except it�s not frozen, tastes better, and comes in wacky flavours*** like "blackcurrant and apple". ***If you notice frequent British spellings and sentence constructions in my entries lately, it�s not because I�ve gone all annoyingly pretentious and �look at me I live in England now�. It�s because there�s some kind of auto correct function on this computer and frankly, I can�t be arsed to go back and change them. ;)
|