Email reminders
This week I’ve been leaving little reminders for myself, primarily in my email inbox, but also on little post-it notes. There have been lots of things worth blogging about, and I didn’t want to forget to mention them.
First and foremost, I handing in my notice at my second job, with the arts festival. I’m probably mental, but if I kept gritting my teeth through some of the things I was being asked to do, I would have eventually blown up and stormed out, throwing my keys across the office as I went. I could turn this into a massive rant about misrepresentation of job vacancies and downright idiocy, but I won’t. I’ll just be happy to be leaving on the 28th, even if the hints about extra hours at the Opera House aren’t written in stone, and I have a trip to America to pay for… There be finger-bitin’ time on the horizon.
Secondly, much as I try to ignore it, I think I’m a religious person. Exactly which religion is hard to pin down though, and while I abhor the kind of people who say “I don’t follow a particular God, but I am a profoundly spiritual person” (I hope you choke on your fucking prayer beads), I think I’ve always kinda hoped that my life is not entirely my responsibility - that someone else, somewhere, has got hold of the reins for me. This, of course, is entirely the wrong way to approach religion, but a new poster campaign by some atheist organisation or other kinda riled me when their bus ads were all over the paper this week.
They say, in massive letters, “THERE’S PROBABLY NO GOD, NOW STOP WORRYING AND ENJOY YOUR LIFE.” 
I don’t think it’s the sentiment behind them that irritates me, because the kind of faith crises that lead to sleepless nights (and worse) are never good, but it’s the smarmy, aren’t-these-religious-types-sooooooo-hilariously-misguided? attitude that makes me want to cast aside what beliefs I have and smite whichever PR firm is responsible with a plague of locusts. I hope that your degradation of the beliefs of others leads to very happy and fulfilled lives. Grrr…
Thirdly, I’ve told Rich at High Voltage that I won’t be doing their news updates for them any more. The joy has just gone from it all for me know, and I don’t keep up with the music world as much as I should in order to do a good job of it. I still had a weird dream last night though, where I was in a restaurant with Kristine (who was on a HUGE amount of drugs at the table) when we saw Fran, the HV Reviews Editor, and I suddenly felt really intensely guilty for leaving. I kinda wish someone would email be back to say they don’t mind or, at the very least I guess, to say thank you for the last two years of quality (unpaid) work that I did for them.
Next on the list, I have now been accepted to three out of my five university choices, although I won’t know what De Montfort think of me until after my “informal interview” on the 24th. Provided I’m successful there of course, I can’t wait for September to roll around, even if I will miss some of the people I have in my life here in Manchester. A new dawn cometh, and all that.
Yesterday, I joined up to the LoveFilm website, in an attempt to cut my ever-increasing cinema costs, as I cut out a lot of gigs from my life. Generally speaking, films are a more reliable interest when you’re going through a bit of a hermit period, because they have various showing times. You don’t have to commit to a rainy Tuesday at 8pm weeks in advance, and if the start time is 8pm, you know that proceedings won’t be held up by an AWOL sound guy or a dressing room tantrum. Plus, you’re not expected to talk to anyone. Bonus!
In THE GREAT NOVEL news, things are going slowly, as I rethink tone. I may be wrongly optimistic while reading Breakfast Of Champions of all things, but I think I can do away with a lot of the nonsense in this story, and just leave the real quality nonsense to shine.
Finally, the weekend papers are positively marinated in Victoria Hesketh today, who’s now know as Little Boots. I interviewed her with her old band, Dead Disco, in October 07 for HV, when she must’ve been getting ready to leave. I liked her the best at the time because she didn’t seem to have a chip on her shoulder about being taken seriously. That Marie girl was really sullen.
