That's when I noticed the aubergine was burning...

Hey readers, how are you?

Today I write to you from my plinth of perspective. Not a literal plinth, of course, I don't have the budget for that sort of prop. There's some sort of theory, though, isn't there that having a raised platform automatically gives you the advantage over your enemy, right? It's the sort of logic programmed into a human being from ancient battles- if you're up a hill with your spear and an enemy is running upwards, you're gonna skewer him right up like a kebab at a BBQ. If he comes from behind, however, then we discover the true meaning of getting stabbed in the back. Why can't we all just be friends? Peace and love and country music- that's what makes the world go round...well, my world anyway. Where was I? Ah yes, I find myself having an outer body experience...or at least a raised level of understanding. I think.

Basically, last night I couldn't sleep. This might seem like not that big a deal to all you insomniacs out there, but it's a big deal to me. I can literally count on ten fingers the total number of times so far in my life that I haven't been able to sleep. Most of those have been when I was ill. Even after being sick I've been known to go back to bed and sleep like a baby and feel refreshed. I tried to go to sleep at 10.30 but it wasn't happening. So I read my book until midnight and thought that'd be me sorted. I tossed and turned for a while but eventually dozed off. Then, for some reason, at 4 in the morning I woke up. And couldn't sleep. For an entire hour. It was bizarre- I felt tired but for some reason it just wasn't happening. The reason, readers, is due to the absolute stress marathon I'm having at the minute with this monumental decision I'm having to make. I feel like I am only one panic attack away from developing a stomach ulcer.

Last blog I said I wanted someone to ask me to stay. The opposite has happened. I know it is probably a selfless gesture on their part of not wanting me to rush into making a decision just because I like the people and I like the country, but being told that I don't have to stay, and shouldn't necessarily choose that path, well- it hurts. Particularly as I spent the entirety of yesterday applying to jobs here in the hopes that someone will employ me. Now I have to receive an abundance of rejection emails- they never cease to hurt my feelings:

Rejection Letter

‘We’ve decided not to take you on’,

           Punch in stomach,

                          heaving gut.

Another possibility is gone,

crossing out and

                          moving on.

The endless dragging twist of fate,

that saw you

being

                    stuck

                    here

No hope. That

jabbing forefinger

of fate:

you didn’t

                  become a big

 do-gooder.

You didn’t manage to save

those lives.

You didn’t

                  help old ladies

cross the road or de-worm orphans

in a third world home.

                         The shaking

unsurprising finish,

the sighing

of another try

                         the subtly cringing

enter key,

Do you really want

to send CV?

                        Betrayal,

finding out,

by email, post or text,

‘We

don’t want you, there’s

                         someone else.’ (This was taken from my Poetry Portfolio, still applies a year later)

It's true though, hearing that yahoo email arrive on my phone makes me feel nauseous. But I'm actually pretty thankful. Because I realised that I was thinking too hard about upsetting other people if I left, and about the opportunities for real life experiences (which don't come around often for me) that I was taking a chance on- and it was terrifying and wonderful- but when I narrowed out my emotions and I just thought about what I wanted, a miraculous thing occurred. I discovered I had ambition. I discovered I had a game plan. I finally realised what I'd be longing to discover for the last five years: what it was I wanted to do for a career, and was there a career that I would ever actually enjoy. And when I thought about it, I realised that I really think there might be. And I need to go home for it. So, you heard it here first, I'm coming back to the U.K at Christmas and I'm staying. And it feels like the right decision.

Because, as much as I wanted to stay here- for a person or two rather than for a job- there isn't anything I can be truly qualified for here because I don't have fluency in at least two languages, I'm not a Swiss national (and gosh do I wish I was working in the EU), my qualifications don't translate well here, and really there's no job that I really want to do that I can apply for because the jobs where I would have been able to use my creativity and my love of writing and reading and entertaining at home, obviously wouldn't work here because I don't speak the right first language.

So, there you have it. I wonder if any of you can work out what the career is I'm talking about? Bonus points if you can tell me. Really, it was all confirmed when I discovered this week that I was actually pretty good at it, and that people were actually impressed by me even as a beginner in the field, and couldn't believe I was just starting out- and I realised that maybe all this time (even as far back as my work experience I did at school), I've been gearing towards just this sort of job. I just needed to see that I could be funny. And strange. And that it was still okay. 

Still, there's so much more mental things I need to sort out here. How can I leave? Not now, at the one chance I've had so far in life to be truly, on a personal level, happy? And how can I break the news? This can't be the ending, can it, of my one great romance I've had so far? I really don't want it to be. I can feel the anxiety ravaging my insides. (Damn it, ulcer, go away! I don't want any holes in my stomach, thank you very much, all the mass amounts of Gruyere cheese I consume, will tumble out.) Anyone got any advice?

And I need to ship a load of clothes home. Crap. That's gonna be a complete rip off in the country where a sneeze costs 10sfr! The temptation to sell all to a second hand shop is tempting... 

2009 length

Also, I'm considering cutting my hair off. Don't worry, I'm not doing a Britney. I'm just wondering: which is a better look for me?

2012 length

All opinions are much appreciated, it took a long time to grow my hair...a loooooong time! And William Wallace was delighted to finally have a hair compatriate! 

So, that's this entry, I know I've given you a lot to chew on. Speaking of, I'm hungry as usual, time to rescue my slightly frazzled aubergine from the oven yum!