Here I sit at the reception desk at Channel Seven, and I am more bored than I have ever been in my LIFE. I never thought I would yearn for the days of busting my ass for $10.50 an hour at Gremily’s, but compared to the abject boredom and total uselessness I am being subjected to here I would gladly take a day of back-breaking labour for slave wages. At least there was chocolate involved. Here? Repeated traumatic sightings of the ugly mug of Graham Cornes, terrible coffee and four TVs showing Blue Heelers - all assaulting my very senses. Now that’s cruel and unusual punishment.

Temping is one of the stranger jobs I’ve had. You really get an insight into how little people actually do for their money. I’ve been sitting here for the past five and a half hours and have done… let me see… uh…. bugger-all. I’m not sure how many times you can read a reception manual in one day, but I think I’m going for the record. And it was deathly crap the first time ‘round. I know I shouldn’t complain. I mean, the money’s great and I get to eat at the arse-kickingly good staff canteen, but when your brain has turned to mashed potato it makes it hard to appreciate the finer points of sitting on your fat can for a living.

Well, as I haven’t updated in a while I may as well spam the blogiverse with more pointless details of my lacklustre exploits. Everything’s been a bit crazy of late, as reflected in bouts of wicked insomnia and my disinclination to, well, eat. But it’s all calming down, and I’m almost back to my old self, albeit about 8 kilos lighter than when I left Canada. Hey, I can’t complain!

It’s still a bit weird to be adrift in the universe – not playing horn much at the moment (though I’m feeling the pull to start practicing again, which is good), haven’t applied to Uni for next year yet (but I’ll get on that this week), and playing WAY too much Playstation (good for fun, baaad for motivation :D). But things are coming together, and I’m actually starting to enjoy the idea that anything is possible – it’s a pretty sweet place to be.

In other getting-my-shite-together news, I’ll be going for my Learner’s permit this week. Yes, that’s right; I am finally going to get my driver’s licence. Woe betide the road-going public, and all tremble before my mighty suckage! I might even have a car, if mum’s old crapheap in the driveway isn’t completely toast. I’m hoping to bribe Lincoln and his brother with a carton of beer or riches unto half my kingdom (net value: about equal, at this point) to take a look at it and see if we can’t raise it from the dead. Sweet liberty!