Into the White

So I'm thinking that my current negativity is blocking all these cosmic orders I've been placing.  Nothing has gone my way recently.  Oh woe is me. I live in Maida Vale, am in no danger of starving (if only - yes I know this is not politically correct  - it's this black mood - I can't control it), I have a pretty freaking amazing family and yet I'm feeling sorry for myself.  I should be ashamed.  I am.  Still, what kind of a Londoner would I be if I didn't have a little moan every now and again.  


Once again, I find myself looking for work at the worse time of year: Summer.  This should be a happy time, a time to take advantage of the fact that pretty much bar the odd writing job here and there, I've got loads of free time.  It's the stuff of dreams. But no, I want to work more and very few recruiters can be arsed right now.  It's not all grim, I'm a natural networker so something will give - it always does but instead of going with the flow, I'm fretting.  I have this vision of hitting an age where Summer, Spring or Winter, I'd be lucky to get a job selling hotdogs on the street.  I worry about my old age even though I know of course I won't make it past 65.  I am aware of the irony.  I'm also a fatalist but at least I'm not a hypochondriac...there is that.  Can you imagine?


And by the same token, so what if I do make it past the age of 65 with not a penny to my name having spent it on trips to France and lattes? - I'm in London!  This is the town that encourages under achievement.  Achievers get nothing from London.  They get to pay taxes and to be put on waiting lists.  And don't start with the 'but what are you doing for London?' bollocks:  I pay taxes and wait patiently on lists.  I give free Yoga classes to people that don't want them; I write to local Councillors to complain about the state of primary school education.  Secretly, I love every minute of it.  It beats the void of Burbsville, Ontario.  


I am drawing a line under today.  It's for the best.