The World According to Spaz The ramblings of a man from a place going to another place completely different to the first place.

The great thing about not working, apart from the fact that you are not working, is that you have the time and the energy to maintain a healthy web journal about how much time you have to maintain a healthy web journal now that you're not working. It's one of the major perks of being an unwanted nerd.

It was all going so well. I enjoyed writing a post each day, people actually seemed to read it, some of those even left comments, and I felt like I was a sort of trans continental gate keeper, I alone holding the magical crystals required to show you all fanstastic glimpses of a life at the furthest corners of the globe. It was the online time of my life... except of course all that stuff about hating life, being trapped in the house all day sending off job applications, and basically having no fun at all. None of that mattered though, none of it, because we had eachother.

Then as fate would have it, I landed some work, and nothing would ever be the same again. It's been two weeks on the job now, but it feels like two bloody years. As part of a bizarre work exchange programme with my pommy mate Hurricane Marklew, somehow I've managed to help get him employed at my old job back in Sydney (again, won't be working on Vogue mate, you won't be working on Vogue), and he's returned the favour by giving me a contact for some freelance work in London. Two days, that turned into three, that spilled over to a fourth, then gushed into an extra fortnight. If my calculations are right, which they seldom are, three week's work will pay for my rent for three months, so if I can get work for say 6 weeks, I could probably pay my rent for... uh... I dunno I'll work it out later. Suffice to say it should keep me going in the manner of which I have become accustomed to for a while.

Unless of course I die first, which is entirely possible. I can honestly say that I've never worked so hard in my life. It's at this point that I'd just like to say a hearty "g'day" to my old boss Capn McWhinney - Adam I swear I never slacked off on the job apart from that one time when I went on that "research trip". Remember the good times Capn, the good times.

The problem with freelance, young players, is the indisputable fact that between the hours of half nine to whenever the hell you leave - THEY OWN YOU. There's no checking the email. There's no taking "social calls". There's no popping off to lunch with the boys from accounts payables because a) there is no accounts payables here, and b) THEY OWN YOU, REMEMBER? You're not a member of the team, you're a ticking money clock that sits in the corner and everyone is all too aware that they're virtually sticking 50p into you every couple of seconds to get you to keep grinding the organ. So to be brief - the pressure is ALWAYS on, and when you're working in a creative field, it's not quite as simple as "just knuckling down to it". Designing is not a linear process. There's no equation for what makes a good piece of creative. Sure there's form and structure and basic principles of "what looks good and what looks shit", but half the time I have no idea where the good stuff comes from, all I know is at the eleventh hour, a small platoon of pixel pixies descend upon my computer and I end up coming up with the goods. And until those tricksy little sprites show up, I am completely creatively drained and end up walking home in a murky fog of semi-consciousness, smiling at the trees and saying "purple purple" to any stray dogs that cross my path.

But on the upside, the people are great, the money is great, the office looks like something out of Nathan Barley, I'm getting that much sought after "London experience", I'm being challenged, there's the outside chance that I could be actually be learning something, it's 5 minutes walk from my apartment which means no peak hour tube brain aids, and I don't have to think about selling The Big Issue on Upper Street anymore. And while I'm happy that I have this "direction", there's a part of me that just wants to be Tim from The Office for a while.  Just do something that pays the bills and doesn't drain my miniature brain. If I was selling reams of A4 copy paper at 2 pounds a packet while Gareth sets up a stationery demarcation perimeter around my workstation and Finchy pops in to regale the office with conquest stories, I think I could actually be happy. Because when I'm doing creative stuff, I can't not care about what I do. I go home at night and dream of photoshop layers. I chat to people in the street and all I'm thinking about is possible layout concepts. It's like fortnight of the living dead in my brain at the moment, and it's obviously having detrimental effects to this much loved hotspot of the blogosphere (I swear I would never EVER use that phrase and now I have. Bugger). So I've come up with an idea that I'd like to pitch to you all now. It's called the "buy Chris a laptop so he can write posts in the comfort of his own home then upload them at the end of the day" scheme program. For only, er, 5 10 quid a month, you could sponsor a poor blogger, and be rewarded with virtue, peace of mind, and ongoing witty insights into London life. Say yes, donate today, the future of the internet is in your hands.

Oh and I'd also like one of those folding bikes that all the urban hipsters have so please, dig deep.