Talk Yourself Into It

In an interesting turn of events, last week I got an email inviting me to attend a job interview. This threw me a wee bit, as I'd applied for the job with a quick, half-arsed application over a month ago. Yet here I am, asked to put on my best shirt to go and attempt to convince them I'm the man for them.

This may take some doing, as I've had the grand total of three interviews. One was unsuccessful, but got me asked back for another six months down the line, in which I did get the gig. Years later, I did well enough in another but the job seemed a crock of shit, so I stuck with what I had at the time.

My current occupation came about after I jacked in the journalist life to spend a year bumming around temp jobs while trying to work it out with a band. After a month spent filing and generally dossing around, the office manager was in need of someone fast. I could use a computer, work a spreadsheet and turned up on time, therefore I got the gig and £250 a week. Result!

Four years later, however, it does feel like I need to move on, hence applying for other jobs in the first place.  The plus side, in the unlikely event I'm successful, would be a bit of extra dosh and working closer to home. Excellent. But of course, it'll be more work, which isn't so good, for more than the usual (i.e. I'm a lazy bastard) reasons.

As it may turn out that finally (he says, worried of jinxing the whole thing) I've found a decent bunch of bods to make music with, with the final part of a singer potentially being about to fall into place. This is an issue in that I'm pretty certain my energy levels have taken a huge fall since my mid 20s peak. Back then, I could get up at 6.30am, finish work at 5pm, travel to the darkest corner of Salford to work on songs till close to midnight and get home around 1am, to repeat the next day with no real problems.

Now, aged 31, I get home from work at 4pm and even after a fairly easy day, want to lie down all evening. To quote many a bad film, am I getting too old for this shit? Maybe I should pack in work and use my life savings to commit a whole year to following my dreams. But then, as we all know, it would only mean on my last day that I would end up killed by a bomb of some variety, planted by one of my many enemies. Damn.