Yeah... more than a week. That's just offensive. What on earth is this guy doing with his time rather than writing a blog for us? Hmm? Well, I didn't have access to the wonderful world of the internet for nigh on two weeks, so any blogging was impossible. Also, I've finished packing and turned to spending my days having coffee with people I might not see for quite a long time. You can't dismiss that! Surely! (he's standing up to his inner critical voice! What's wrong with him? Is he ill?)
HAHA! Got you there! I did write one blog, the day after the last one. I was doing a temping job, for a day. For that, I waited in a hotel lobby (don't worry, it wasn't prostitution-related. That's not for temping. That's a day job), and got slightly nervous at the prospect. Here's what goes on in my head when that happens.
POST #6: Walrus out of Water
So here I am, doing another temping job. 3 hrs of taking notes at a large hotel in the centre of town. I'm absolutely terrified. No idea how it'll go. I'm currently typing this, at 12, less than an hour until I'll get called in. I feel like I might get dissected for their pleasure in a weird 15th-century anatomy lesson, with people dressed like annoyed chess-pieces with bubble-wrap for scarves. Terrified. I'm wearing my waistcoat (don't fit in it, it's more like a corset when I'm sitting down. Limiting my basic breathing apparatus, like having a very mild asthma-attack. I just checked, the wifi here costs € 5,95 an hour (!). But there's hotels for you.
I feel like a walrus out of water. This is worse than a fish out of water for several reasons. 1. The walrus is equally unfit for land-living. 2. The walrus has big unwieldy tusks which limit its movement capabilities even further but really don't do anyone any harm. 3. The walrus is a mammal, so the other creatures of the coast expect it to function full well in a land-environment. Which it doesn't. The walrus shouldn't have evolved. If it were a seal, it would fulfil a remit (hoop-jumping, trumpet-playing and applauding; critical), if it were an otter it would have an identity (v cute + inventor of take-away meals; vital) but it it's not, is it? It can emit noises and smells and wobble. Yes, I'm disrespecting the walrus. Whatchagonnado, punks? Run after me? Whaha! Run for the hills lads; they're coming! Even better: get on the bus! Yes, the main success in human evolution is: BUS! (I like buses. Perfect for being among people, while not having to engage with them with more than nod-based interchanges).
This blog is scaring me right now. What would people think of me? Mental adjective-use and the bitching of entire phyla of animals? The killing of them as well? Get the white-coated men! It would be just my luck that the meeting today would be an international psychiatrists convention about giving the word -oddball- official medical status. This would mean putting an electric fence around the Edinburgh Festival every august and the four big venues would advertise themselves as a modern Victorian freak show. Look At The Weirdos! Laugh Disparagingly At These Mentals Who Try To Write Jokes, And Tell Them To A Paying Crowd! The Bastards! It would be very much like the Dutch comedy scene (zing!).
More people coming into the hotel. I'm seated next to a nice potted tree-fern. Is it real? Feels real enough. For some reason, this kind of plant is best served to a life in a pot, filled up with stones. Yeah, stones. That gives off some pretty good nutrients, doesn't it? (am I satirising the world's garden centres now? God, I make so many enemies in 30 minutes. For a similar example, we do need to go back 2.000 years, where only Julius Caesar was superior to me in making enemies quickly. And he ended up looking like a thimble, made of flesh (what, too soon?)).
There my slightly amusing mania stops; the temping would start 5 minutes later.
It was all right.
Nothing much amusing from that, really.
Until next time! Bye!