Of parsnips and axe murderers
Hmm. I'll have a parsnip with that roast Xmas lentil yet. I sent out my first invoice in my new freelance guise, and it felt good. And I have been working this week too, writing about cholesterol again for the last two days. And tomorrow too. Also I have a little work lined up for next week. More importantly, I think it is beginning to sink in that I will actually be okay, and life as a freelancer could be very big and clever in its own right - as well as giving me time for my own wheezes. It is, so far, a fairly painless transition.
However I have been getting moments of cabin fever - especially as the work I have been doing is of the brain shrivelling variety - not only writing website copy but tweaking its architecture. It requires three dimensional thinking and makes want to turn into Jack Nicholson in The Shining, typing All work and no play makes Peter a dull boy, thousands of times. As a writer this was always the most frightening scene for me: Jack losing his grip on sanity but still being driven to type endlessly.
Fortunately just outside my door is Brighton to escape into (yelling "Here's Johnny") and the sea not far away. Just knowing it is there somehow keeps you more level headed and keep the axes out of sight.
Loving the idea of Christmas this year. It will be the first one in England for three years. Last year I was in Japan, and the year before in Long Island. Both wonderful experiences. Christmas is such a concoction of memories and associations, happy and sad. It is easy to become sentimental for lost childhood too. For me Christmas usually meant my Grandparents' little 16th century granite cottage in Guernsey, which is probably why I still love Christmas to this day.
Below... The manuscript in The Shining.
Hmm. I'll have a parsnip with that roast Xmas lentil yet. I sent out my first invoice in my new freelance guise, and it felt good. And I have been working this week too, writing about cholesterol again for the last two days. And tomorrow too. Also I have a little work lined up for next week. More importantly, I think it is beginning to sink in that I will actually be okay, and life as a freelancer could be very big and clever in its own right - as well as giving me time for my own wheezes. It is, so far, a fairly painless transition.
However I have been getting moments of cabin fever - especially as the work I have been doing is of the brain shrivelling variety - not only writing website copy but tweaking its architecture. It requires three dimensional thinking and makes want to turn into Jack Nicholson in The Shining, typing All work and no play makes Peter a dull boy, thousands of times. As a writer this was always the most frightening scene for me: Jack losing his grip on sanity but still being driven to type endlessly.
Fortunately just outside my door is Brighton to escape into (yelling "Here's Johnny") and the sea not far away. Just knowing it is there somehow keeps you more level headed and keep the axes out of sight.
Loving the idea of Christmas this year. It will be the first one in England for three years. Last year I was in Japan, and the year before in Long Island. Both wonderful experiences. Christmas is such a concoction of memories and associations, happy and sad. It is easy to become sentimental for lost childhood too. For me Christmas usually meant my Grandparents' little 16th century granite cottage in Guernsey, which is probably why I still love Christmas to this day.
Below... The manuscript in The Shining.
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