All of a sudden life has turned up a notch. I've been stalling the past three months, or at least not going very fast, and it's been concerning me. Weirdly enough, I came across this Chinese proverb the other day that goes, 'Be not afraid of growing slowly, be afraid only of standing still'. Deep right? Confucius fucking knew where it was at. And I said to myself, I said, 'Self? Okay, so you’re not growing quickly. So you’re not achieving everything you wanted to achieve. Scratch that, say you’re not achieving anything you wanted to achieve this year. Big deal. You’re spending time with your thoughts. You’re reading a lot. You’re zen. It's cool.' Then of course, Confucius had to fuck me over by getting me a job. Yep, I scored a wicked job. Be cool, I'll tell you about it later.

This weekend I am going to Melbourne again. Business or pleasure? you ask. I can answer with some confidence. It's not pleasure. I'm flying down to grade to first dan. Or, to put another way, I'm going down to petition an early death. The black belt grading is consentual torture and consists of walking into a dojo with half-a-dozen other students, facing a wall of instructors, and proceeding to work flat-strap for three-and-a-half (3.5) hours while aforementioned old men yell at you, interject push-ups between drills because you're not screaming loud enough, and deny you water. To place in context, it's like playing almost three games of soccer in a row, only there are no subs, no breaks, and oh yeah, definitely no yellow cards. My stomach roils at the prospect. Worse, it means missing `the-faun's birthday and bon voyage drinks. And after enduring everything, there's no guarantee I'll even get it.

Anyway.

This new job. Should be wicked. I'm an editor in a publishing house. That's pretty much exactly where I've always wanted to be (except, in moments of weakness, when I’ve wanted to be the next JK Rowling). Only the house publishes educational texts rather than fiction and I'm editing in the science/maths division instead of.... you know, fiction. But hey, it's a stepping stone. Get the experience, get out. That's what my generation does according to popular industry analysts and believe me, when God made me, he did not break the mould.

The interview was insane. For a job that pays peanuts, they really go to lengths to groom the monkey. It was a panel interview with three managing editors who spoke to me for ninety minutes, pausing only to issue me a STANDARDISED TEST in the middle. I jest not. One was a spelling test, the other involved editing an A4 passage of text. Luckily I'd brushed up on my transitive and intransitive verbs before walking in. /roll.

I begin the job Monday week. I get back from Melbourne Sunday night around nine. Kinda spooky, if you think about it (I've thought about it lots). I quit my job back in February and flew down to Melbourne the following day. Now I'm flying down to Melbourne and starting my new job the following day.

Kind of like really cool, really expensive bookends, only the A is shiny and sparkly and new and the Z will probably show up on his first day with missing teeth.

anthony

PS: In other news, I hate Goldfrapp but even I think their latest record is happiness in saucer form.