Tuesday, July 27, 2010


I was lying on my couch having a conversation with a friend last night. Not sure where the conversation began but I went off on various tangents about the workings of society. You see, yesterday I went to talk with a human at an establishment which deals in creative work (of the freelance, contract and permanent type). It seems that waiting 28 years to work out what you want to do in life doesn't cut it. Further, it seems real world experience doesn't cut it. They want degrees. They want references. They want paid experience.

I want to write for a living. I've been writing song lyrics for about 15 years. I wrote all types of essays, projects and reports during my four years of university study. I've written original material in a number of jobs I've held over the last ten or so years. I've worked as a copywriter. I've worked as a proofreader and editor. Still, it seems I have very little experience.

I was asked a question during this interview of sorts. Something along the lines of "Which areas of writing do you excel at?" I couldn't think of a proper response at the time, of course. Damn it, I never said I could think and talk. I said I can write! I mumbled something about being a grammatical perfectionist and being able to write varying types of copy for various audiences. I didn't, however, mention that I'm better at rhyming than anyone they probably have listed in their little black book(s). I could write you fifteen catchy rhyming jingles per day! I could have alluded to the fact that I'm all about alliteration. Repetition. Depitation. Metaphors. Similes.

Anyway. Why does it have to be a competition to do what you love to do? Maybe a kid grows up and decides he wants to be a tradie. Cool, here's your hammer, move along. Another kid wants to be a clown. Excellent, the line for clowns is out back. Make sure to grab your red nose and colourful curly wig on the way out. I want to write for a living (see, repetition!). Give me a pen and a pad and sit me under a tree. Pay me minimum wage until I prove myself. Just give me a chance. Passion will always provide a more prolific employee.

They say I'm a dreamer. I'm aware of that. Just thought it was a lovely idea.

I said what?

Hola. Is there anybody out there?

I promised myself I'd manage five posts a week. That was on the 3rd of June. It is now the 27th of July. That means I owe you (and myself) 38 posts, including this one.

38! The number of the house that I spent the first 28 years of my life living at. Interesting side story about that. I was talking with my father recently about the price of houses/apartments in Melbourne in this day and age. He says he paid something like $32,000 for the house I grew up in. He also mentioned that a week's worth of work would only net you about $150 back then. It's all relative, huh? Still though, the house now has a value of around $800,000 or so. Is $768,000 a decent profit after exactly 30 years?

38. I wonder if anyone has ever posted 38 good blog entries on a single day? Not the type with just a video link or a short message, for example.

Maybe I should go on a blogging spree for the next 3.5 hours that I'll be at work?

This post and 37 posts about Inception should do it.

Shit, just got a call about some work I need to get done... BRB.