Goals and Principles

This week, I am in dire danger of breaking one or both of my two Life Resolutions.

1) Don't spend more than two weeks at a stretch in the parental home
2) Never, ever, put yourself in a position where having worked in Little Chef is seen as a good thing

Sadly, having spent my last dineros on beer and biscuits, it's the time of year when I throw up my hands and go "Alright! I'll spend my days waiting in vain for a callback on application to soul-sapping wage-slavery." I mean, man, I have more important things to do - such as applying to universities so I can stretch out my poverty for another five years or so.

I don't want to be a blog stereotype, but it's wierd how bi-polar I am in mood around the university term. When they're handing me rate equations or whatever, I'm a practically punching the sky and glowing from the eyes. "Ha! Nonlinear optics problems cannot defeat me!" Now, a mere six days after term has ended, I'm fed up with holidays. Come on, come on, let's all stop this hideous charade of explaing how working in a motorway hell-hole taught me to deal with customers as opposed to, say, stealing their hat and taking a dump in it. I want to get back to real work that kind-of matters. University holidays should be two weeks long, six times a year. That'd work.

There are only two potential upsides to suceeding in this grim endevour. That is, a) £5 or so for each hour I step towards the grave and b) Not having to do the whole same rigmarole in Devon, where it's exactly the same except with an hour's commute.

Anyway, dear readers, it'll soon be time for me to catch a bus down the way and see if I can get any sense out of these people in person, since they won't answer my calls.

This wouldn't happen in a socialist utopia. Maybe I should move to one of them- you know, one of those countries where the communist revolution worked out OK.

I wonder if you can- no need for greed or hunger