So I gotta write a novel, become a doctor, grow a moustache (poking those hairs up is hard work), and come to grips with being alone forever. Probably because I don't have time for other people.
All this on top of a full time job. Did I tell you I got a full time job, blog? Because yeah, I'm totally working for The Man now. But it's not exactly selling my soul; I just rent it out between the hours of 9 and 5.
Plus I help make London awesome (HEY COME TO THE LONDON SHORT FILM SHOWCASE ON SATURDAY), and I even have a smidge of a social life sometimes.
It's a lot on my plate. Luckily I'm always hungry.
But hey, blog, let me temper this rambling horn-tooting by telling you an uncomfortable truth about myself: I am profoundly lazy. The only reason I do anything is so I can enjoy doing nothing. When your mind has been active all day, there is nothing better than sitting down to watch terrible television that makes your mind not only inactive, but dumber (#snookie). Or just kinda zoning out; finding yourself staring at a closed fridge door for 5 minutes, maybe because you thought you were hungry, or maybe just because your mind shut off when you happened to be in the kitchen.
I like having done almost as much as I like doing. I need that down time. Which means, and this is what I've been trying to tell you, blog, is that if I'm going to get all these ___vember activities done, something else has to give if I'm to have that perfect work/laziness balance. If you are my friend and I don't see you all month, at least you know why. If you stop by because you didn't read this, and you figure someone's gotta collect the body, then you see that my computer desk is just a valley among mountains of unwashed coffee cups and empty pizza boxes, then, well, I'm sorry for the smell.
I'll be gone all November. Give a kiss to my mutha.