It was late February I posted a picture of myself, freshly shaven and understandably apprehensive.
I sit here before you now, three months later, equally apprehensive at what lies in store.
Why is this?
My writing has improved, I’ve learned a tonne of new skills and I’ve finally decided on a direction to fly.
Thing is – I’m yet to leave the nest. Up until now I’ve had minimal pressure on my shoulders to perform, no binding obligation to even turn up to work and a steady flow of income keeping me afloat – courtesy of ‘the bank of Dad’.
I’m about to test my wings in the world of work and I’m doing it as a freelance writer.
From Monday I start to ask for money each time I write. So the writing has to be good. Better than good, it has to be worth it.
For the last week I’ve been looking into the life of my boss, Jody, grilling him on what it felt like to start off freelancing, what his deepest fears and his fiercest motivations were.
Although I can relate to a lot of what he said – a fact which doesn’t necessarily quell the nerves – I think there’s something else which scares me even more.
It’s the thought of being lonely.
The prospect of working 8 hour days with me, myself and I to talk to, question and banter with.
I’ve had a sneak peak of how this feels this week.
The girls are at Uni and the parents are away in sunny Italia so I’ve been fending for myself (albeit with a stocked freezer).
Here’s a picture of me, fending for myself. Note: I think I’ve shrunken some clothes in the wash already…
I’ll have you know the poached eggs weren’t a complete car crash though! One was actually runny!
(also this may or may not be my second dinner)
It’s hard to say how I’ll perform with actual contracts, but I need to try. Which is why I’m grateful for the opportunity to freelance for Jody.
Mate’s rates aside, Jody already knows how I work and where my strengths lie. It means having my first client won’t be the scariest thing in the world (that fear is reserved for skydiving). That’s unless he turns hulk on day one.
Sidenote: Jody reads my blogs.
That time of year
Job prospects aside, the time of year is fast approaching when shorts come out and I stay in playing Dark Souls.
I tried to introduce my friends to Dark Souls the other night – pitched it as: D&D for one – they weren’t buying it. Tom especially hates Dark Souls.
I do wonder if I’ll be able to play this year. My patience for video games is at an all time low, and I think I know why.
When life is stressful or unstable I need something familiar. The videogames I play need to be easy – I need that sense of power and control which is sorely lacking IRL.
Dark Souls famously batters you down and spits on you. And that personification is a mild representation of what the game can do to you.
Truth is, last year I was stable. Arguably too stable? But I was able to deal with the brutality of a game, purpose build to fish slap you. Right now dying in-game instills a fiery rage inside of me, so I’ve decided to stick to Rocket League.
Which reminds me, I’m meant to be meeting Tom in 5. Better stop writing!
Before I leave you though, I just wanted to share this. It’s quite a powerful account of how a video game affected a guy suffering from depression.
In all honesty, Dark Souls would have had the opposite effect on me in that state, but some of the points he brings up really resonated with me.
It just goes to show how varied people’s reactions are to what is “just a game”.