Why Did I Make Myself Icecream When I Don't Even Want It

So apparently my rant about job seeking yesterday was a bit early. I got a call from the recruitment agency on Friday afternoon saying that the company would love to meet with me on Monday. That's more like it. So have to be at said engineering firm at 9am for interview with the HR Manager. I have to say that I am immensely relieved that this is going ahead. The thought that I wouldn't even make interviews for a simple admin job where its only temporary and if you suck they can get rid of you, pretty much made me feel worthless. Oh and I hate the sitting around and waiting for the call from the agency. Put my life on hold on the off chance that I get a call. Carry my mobile in my pocket so that every time i take a step i can feel the phone against my leg - another reminder.

Today being Saturday I decided to walk down to the local shops to get the Saturday paper. The idea is that i will look for jobs in the paper. The paper is still sitting folded in the neat carry bag my mum made for me. The downside of said neat carry bag is that now i have no reason to call mum to come and pick me up at the shops. It is 4 kilometres from our house to the news agency and there is no way that I will walk 4kms carrying a thick paper ( or Grazia when it comes out). Now I have no excuse as I am hands free for the return trip. I think I get about halfway back, so what 6kms, when my legs start to protest. What I really hate and is really tough is that the last kilometre of road curves down so that if i walk on the correct side of the road i am in the lowest part and sometimes have a habit of schooching sideways off the road completely. I probably look slightly intoxicated however should the odd car pass me I am able to pull myself together for the fifteen seconds and look like the power walker i am so desperately trying to be.

So its Saturday night. And how is the party animal that is Hips Magee spending it i hear you ask? At home with her parents. On the computer, reorganising her IRiver for walking music. Oh and i seem to be biting all my nails off. I don't know why I am, I haven't bitten my nails in a while. In fact just last week I had to file my nails down because they were getting too long to type with. Guess i won't have that problem anymore. So biting my nails means i am worried about something. What though? Looks like I am going to have to delve into my psyche for some answers.

I finally got an idea for a story to work on for my creative writing. It's not bad and I am just in the process of trying to work out characters. It's funny how before when I was watching TV and I came up with the idea, and I got all excited and enthused. I wanted to work on the story but I was in the middle of a TV show. I lamented the fact that my mother had taken the laptop away for the weekend so i could not sit and work on it. Now that the show is finished and, as always on Saturday night, there is absolutely nothing worth watching, I have moved into the computer. Yet now my momentum has waned and I seem to find other things to do on the computer eg write this entry, reorganise my IRiver. What's that about - why can I not follow through on the idea. I will never write a book if i don't start but why can't I bring myself to start. Fear of failure? probably. Fear of putting a lot of time and effort into something that i will fail miserably at. Ding Ding Ding we have a winner folks. Why can't I realise that i can never become a paid author if i don't start writing? I have to start somewhere. David Beckham would never have become so great at soccer if he decided to skip practice when he was ten and watch telly.

Another thing that I am feeling lately is jealousy towards young actors and actresses. Hold that thought - it sounds like Lord Stinkypants has come down from his bed and wants to go outside. He went to bed at 7:30 when it became clear that I was not going to give him any of my yummy Thai sweet chili rolls. Now he will go out, bark at whatever nocturnal wildlife is out in the yard and then demand to come back in so he can go back to bed; be it in the bean bag or his doggie bed. The life of some hey. Anyways back to the jealousy. I see all these pretty young things in their teens and twenties. Being hyped up, going to parties, wearing designer clothes, being talked about and lauded over by fans and getting to spend their days making movies and being paid for it. I WANT THAT. When people ask me what I want to do i want to yell that. I want to act, to be famous, to be pretty and to never ever have to worry about money again. But how do you say that when you are 30, are known to be quite shy and have never acted in your life. And even if I wanted to how the hell am i supposed to start. i have looked up acting classes and drama in newcastle et al and there is like 4, 3 of which are talent agencies. How can i find out if i am any good at acting here in this boring town. Unfortunatly acting is not something that you can learn online. And even if i could I would never be discovered hiding away here in little old backwater town. So what am i supposed to do, uproot myself from my safe place and throw myself into a huge town where i know no-one and feel about as cosmopolitan as an old boot all for the pursuit of a pipe dream. That would be living the dream, following the yellow brick road, creating my own happiness and destiny.

Wouldn't want to do a silly thing like that.