Wednesday, June 02, 2004

If you are falling, I'll put out my hands. If you feel bitter, I will understand

Mmmmmmmmm. Proper typing again. Mmmmmmmm.

Sorry but this blog is a little light relief from the mother of all writing jobs.

I've just sent it back to the client. I'm paranoid about all work I do and I never think it is good enough. I'm always worried that someone will hate it. Even when I could blame poor briefing or lack of time, I always blame myself.

This job should have been at least a two week undertaking. Instead I had to cram it into just a couple of days. It meant a couple of late nights and an early morning this morning. I now can't even enjoy that feeling of completion as it doesn't feel finished to me.

Like most jobs, I am sure they asked me simply because they had been too busy to do it themselves. They had probably put it off to a point whereby they thought the problems included in producing it were insurmountable and they off loaded it instead,

Wading through the unexplained acronyms, the jargon, the spin and the blather, I couldn't make head or tale of it. Now I have that agonising wait till the email I sent it over on is returned.

They're a good client. I got this job because they like my work but I would hate for this to be passed around their office getting destroyed by all and sundry for whatever reasons.

I tried. Honestly I did.

All I ask for now is a "thanks, great job, we'll take if from here" email with a request for me to bill them sharpish. Then I can relax.

In the meantime, I think I might go back to bed and watch 24-hour Big Brother Live on E4.

I'm sorry but even Richard and Judy would be too taxing right now.

Love, light and peace,


I saw two shooting stars last night I wished on them but they were only satellites. It's wrong to wish on space hardware. I wish, I wish, I wish you'd care.