2 hour walk in beautiful 20 degrees Parisian spring afternoon sunshine will do marvels. Enough with the damn bad moods. Moods are for cattle! And enough with the supposed tos. I came here to get away from what I was supposed to do.
Well, I'm not supposed to be a penniless writer. But that's what I am and will be. I need to focus on the writing. Enough of this "must find a job" malarkey. I can afford to stay here until July when my mother and sister come. I'll go back to Sydney then. In the meantime, that's 3 months of focussing on writing my novel, freelance web writing and some travel/videoing. That is, what I came here to do.
I've listened to too many people since I've arrive here. They all say I'm supposed to find a nice desk job, doing what I'm supposed to do: I.T. Well, I'm done with advice. It's (and I.T.'s) not what I want.
I need to remember GeekChill, my geek recipe site. It's my way of staying connected to I.T. and keep my web skills up, or more correctly get them back up as I'm 5 years out of practice.
Just typing this has made me feel better.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Monday, April 19, 2010
32 and don't know what to do
Yes, the angst continues. I feel like a 15 year old. But then again, I'm not sure I put this much effort into angsting back then. Maybe it's just my time.
I don't know what to do with myself. Come on, sing it. I JUST DON'T KNOOOOW WHAT TO DOOO WITH MYSELF. I want to be a writer. But I feel, deep down, and the mysterious "they" tell me that working full time and trying to be a writer at the same time is impossible.
I'm in Paris, paying rent, and currently flipping burgers part-time for a bit of cash. I hate it. Yes, that makes me a prima donna but I just don't want to do it. I'm going to hold out until I get myself a social security number, then allow my lovely little English pub to take my job and shove it. This hurts my ego, as I thought I could handle most things, but it's too boring, and too damaging to my delicate frame!
So, I'm in the position of desperately seeking a full time I.T. desk job. Which I had turned my back on in OZ! Just so I can stay here as long as possible.
But if I do that, the writing will suffer. And being a writer was/is the plan. It IS the plan. The pessimist in me (which fills roughly 87% of the space) can't see this future ever happening, but for once I want to get to the failure without quitting first. I want to write this damn novel, write online articles, write on this blog and all that and commit to it.
Can't do that when I have to pay rent. Hmmmm. Time to go for a walk and think things through.
Back in a bit.
I don't know what to do with myself. Come on, sing it. I JUST DON'T KNOOOOW WHAT TO DOOO WITH MYSELF. I want to be a writer. But I feel, deep down, and the mysterious "they" tell me that working full time and trying to be a writer at the same time is impossible.
I'm in Paris, paying rent, and currently flipping burgers part-time for a bit of cash. I hate it. Yes, that makes me a prima donna but I just don't want to do it. I'm going to hold out until I get myself a social security number, then allow my lovely little English pub to take my job and shove it. This hurts my ego, as I thought I could handle most things, but it's too boring, and too damaging to my delicate frame!
So, I'm in the position of desperately seeking a full time I.T. desk job. Which I had turned my back on in OZ! Just so I can stay here as long as possible.
But if I do that, the writing will suffer. And being a writer was/is the plan. It IS the plan. The pessimist in me (which fills roughly 87% of the space) can't see this future ever happening, but for once I want to get to the failure without quitting first. I want to write this damn novel, write online articles, write on this blog and all that and commit to it.
Can't do that when I have to pay rent. Hmmmm. Time to go for a walk and think things through.
Back in a bit.
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