It's a funny thing, comfort zone. When you're in it you're constantly wishing for more challenges, wanting to be thrust out of it so you can feel like you're in control, that you can overcome any adversity because I AM MIDDLE CLASS HEAR ME ROAR PLEASE IF YOU DON'T MIND. But when you're on your ass sitting out the front in the wind and the rain wondering how you're going to ever inch back towards the womb-like warmth of doing what you know, suddenly you start to wonder what kind of stupid idiot the voice inside your head really is, and what kind of stupid idiot you were to listen to it in the first place.
Back home, I was pretty much running rings around my home and job life. Quite often I'd poke at it with sticks just to taunt it, all the while chanting "nah nah ni nah nah, you can't catch me". So I quit the job, said my farewells to my home since birth, and moved to London. London is as most would attest, a fairly bigger brother to Sydney, and right now he currently has me pinned to the ground and is forcing me to say "uncle" while he drops big balls of spit into my mouth. Kids eh, they do the darndest things.
I knew it was going to be tough, but maybe not as tough as I had thought. The roughly hewn together with sticky tape plan in my head was to arse about a bit, live the transient life of a cashed up vagrant before I got back into the world of work, but right now I feel so far out of my comfort zone that the only thing which can possibly point me back in the direction is a wad of cash I can call my own. The honeymoon is well and truly over, and it's back to work boys for yours truly. So I am now in the world of C.V's, job agencies, and tiresome self promotion that I find eternally soul crushing. I know I'm a genius, you know I'm a genius, I just don't see why I should have to go through the laborious process of making other people understand that. I mean, you just end up sounding like a wanker don't you?
