Sandeberg Rising

Waking up at 4am every few nights just can’t be good or right. Okay, it certainly has it’s benefits:

1. I get a few extra hours of blissful solitude and peace before the chaos of the day once more ensues.
2. The altered perceptions can be a wonderful state of mind, with humourous perspectives.
3. It gives you an great excuse for bizarre behaviour, despite the fact that it’s not really that bizarre, and is in fact quite premeditated.

All in all, it doesn’t affect me that badly at all. Unless it happens on the night before an interview. That could mess things up quite a bit, but thankfully it hasn’t happened yet.

So what’s causing this sleeplessness? The usual knee-jerk response is that it’s insomnia, but that’s not the case, I can get to sleep very easily. A year of 7am flights on a propeller plane (I always seem to end up with the seat by the wing), means I have the knack of sleeping pretty much in any conditions. So it’s not insomnia, it’s just waking up after a few hours of sleep. Maybe my mind is over-active, anxious to put things in motion. To escape the current cycle of frustration. To keep the (loan) sharks at bay.

Of course, it could be the simplest explanation of all… I’m not actually doing anything strenuous enough to actually need more than 10 hours sleep, spread over 2 days. Who knows…

I was speaking to this morning and I came to realise that hiring me is the worst thing that could happen to any company. No, no, I’m not going through a despressive slump. Let’s look at the record.

• 1st Employer: After one and a half years I resign. Three months later, 200 out of 500 people are made redundant due to corruption allegations at head office level.
• 2nd Employer: Five months after a I start working for them, redundancies are announced, myself among them, as European trading has taken a dramatic downturn.
• 3rd Employer: After nine months with this company I resign. Four months later, the department I have just vacated is dramatically downsized.
• 4th Employer: After three years, the company announces redundancies, myself among them, due to insolvency due to mismanagement.
• 5th Employer: I leave after five months after a number of disputes and the bankruptcy of the company.

You see? Hire me and be damned!

http://www.nationstates.net/cgi-bin/index.cgi/target=display_nation/nation=burnizia

“Up the Aardvark!”

UN Category: Scandinavian Liberal Paradise
Civil Rights: Superb Economy: Developing Political Freedoms: Below Average

Location: the South Pacific
The Principality of Burnizia is a tiny, devout nation, renowned for its absence of drug laws. Its compassionate population of 5 million enjoy extensive civil rights and enjoy a level social equality free of the usual accompanying government corruption.

The large government concentrates mainly on Religion & Spirituality, although Healthcare and Social Welfare are secondary priorities. The average income tax rate is 30%, but much higher for the wealthy. A tiny private sector is dominated by the Soda Sales industry.

Crime is moderate, and the police force struggles against a lack of funding and a high mortality rate. Burnizia’s national animal is the aardvark, which frolics freely in the nation’s many lush forests, and its currency is the pebble.

I don’t mean in the sense of not having anywhere to live, but more the question ‘What is home?’

Is it where I live? Where my friends are? Where my family live? Is it a real place or merely a state of mind?
“Oh, won’t you please take me home!?” wails Axel, and I find myself thinking “Where exactly is that? Where is my Paradise City? Is there such a place? Does such a place have to exist? Do I need it? Does anyone?
It seems I’ve spent so long moving around, whether it be my place of work or the place I sleep when I’m not working, that ‘home’ has become a very vague concept.

I think the concept of a solid, absolute ‘home’ gives people a sense of security, a warm fuzzy blanket to wrap themselves up in to shield them from the terrors of the world. And sometimes I feel like I’m standing there, naked in the wind. Security? Stability? No. Is it a good thing? A bad thing? Who the hell knows. Not I, that’s for sure.

“Under the bludgeonings of chance,
My head is bloody, but unbowed.”

Pixels are not square!! They look square, everyone tells you they are square but they aren’t! Designing tiny images shouldn’t be this hard! Why can’t pixels be square, it would make my life so much easier.

Gah!

Someone is going to have to pay!

[Update] Finally got it cracked, but what a pain.
Time spent creating a new swish logo: 30 minutes
Time spent creating a miniscule little icon: 2 hours.

What does the phrase “You ought to be more sensible” make you feel? What images does it conjure in your mind?

To me, it fills me with revulsion as I see myself descending into middle-class mundanity, afraid of doing anything just in case it’s not sensible.
“Not for me!” I say.

But I’ve come to realise that there has to be a balance. I used to earn a comfortable living, and I used these wages of sin to live as well as I could. A great lifestyle, I thought. And that it was. But when you then lose two jobs in the space of 6 months and have no savings to fall back on, things become a little more difficult. A little more humbling. And borderline bohemian.

But where does it end?

When does “I ought to put some money aside in case I insult any more managers” become “Let me tell you about my mortgage and my theories on tax law”?

Now, some people I have raised this dilemna with have stated that it’s about time I grow up anyway. But enough of ridiculous theories, based in pure fantasy. After all, the whole “grown-up” and “mature” descriptors are purely ficticious constructs anyway. All it really means is behaving how the mob wants you to behave, despite that no one individual would voluntarily cripple themselves in such a way.

Then again, perhaps I’m reading way too much into this whole thing…

Well, things are finally looking up on the job front, which is about bloody time after all these months! One definite interview in London, one potential in the middle of England and one potential in Amsterdam. Jobs, eh? They’re like buses. You wait for ages, and then three turn up at once!

I tried the other bus trick of course, which is lighting cigarettes. That usually makes the bus turn up, but has singularly failed to work on jobs. Believe me, I’ve tried.

So assuming I get one of these jobs, or any of the others I have applied for, I’ll be already to launch properly funded mischief upon this world once more!

Perhaps over-optimistic? Sure. Do I care? Not an iota, I’m enjoying the happy mood.

He is wanted for serious crimes. He is either:

a) Accused by the Fraternity of Men of falling prey to a woman, becoming her victim and general doormat. He had no chance against this womans wicked charms, but has seriously dissapointed the Men of the world.

or

b) Accused by the Sorority of Women of taking advantage of a poor, helpless, defenceless victim of a woman who had no chance against this mans wicked charms.

Rest assured, that whatever this mans crimes, he shall be hunted like the dog he is….

… Simply tell them that you are considering options to leave the country, in search of peaceful times, cold hard cash and not being a drain on society. Just the very idea that I am applying for jobs in the Netherlands has so far resulted in reactions ranging from outrage, disappointment, amusement (the latter two both from the same person) and unhidden glee (from my mother).

Why the Netherlands? Well, I’ve worked there before, my parents live there, all the good jobs are there, and I’ve been assured of a gaming group. Okay, that last aspect might not really be the one that swung the vote, but it’s an added bonus!
So why haven’t I pursued this seemingly attractive option before? Well, my parents live there, all the good jobs are not here in the UK and I hadn’t been assured of a gaming group. Also I hadn’t realised that I could end up earning the same salary as in the UK, but for a lower cost of living.

Of course, the plan is not all roses. Firstly, I’ve got to actually get the jobs I apply for, but at least there are jobs to apply for. Secondly, I’d miss my friends, but admittedly I only see them every two to three weeks anyway. Thirdly, I’d have to visit my parents more than two or three times a year.

DIPLOMATIC ASSASSIN: What stealth is to the ninja, subterfuge is to you. You could look a man in the face and describe how beautiful his daughter is as he ingests the poison you put in his dinner.

Which Type of Assassin Are You? (With Anime pics!)
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