full circle;; back story: spent too much teenage time on the internet, got good at it, whatever in god's name 'it' is meant to be, then somewhere between a degree in reading stuff and the dole queue (they don't make you queue) i realised there was money in it. sunk my freakishly small, blunt teeth into that, spent eighteen months of my young adult life reading and writing about 'digital and social media engagement' (amongst many other ever so slightly less vacuous, more detailed things) for one of "london's top firms." i went to events, dutifully, drank free booze, bizarrely engaged with this realisation that people were making careers out of what, for most people, is idle distraction at best, observation, i stood on the sidelines of a whole new weird subculture of blogger meetups and smiled at the men and women there: mostly loose, desperate, functioning alcoholics. started to believe it, present it, put an amiable face to the blind panicked fear of one thousand greasy execs turned pale as they realised this might be one hurdle too far. trained fifty people how to use fucking fucking fucking twitter, gripping hard at their employability as not-so-empty threats management about new requirements to be a 'digital native' began to take hold.
more recently i started to reach capacity. resentment bubbled over as i heard my own mouth spout about 'viralising' and 'seeding' with a second nature stumble - dribbling out this heinous future semen, smeared all over everything that is ostensibly useful about the internet, giving it that predictable echo chamber glisten. dried up and full of dead ideas. i thought having a "career" and a life/label/band/whatever would be the neatest jugglers act, but only dropped balls ensued, and there are some things not up for sacrifice.
this blog is how it is for a reason. be assured (why would you be) that i could bells and whistle the shit out of it if necessary, but all that shit loses its lustre when you have to deliver fifty deck power point slides on what some dipshit blogger who can't fucking spell said about adidas. or hamleys. or business process management software. i'm not kidding. i'm on the run. digitally. and i hate how that sounds too. knowing how SEO works (aka the ability to terminally scupper myself by having an unusual real life name) only makes me more determined. still, even under duress, you try saying the anonymous onandonandonanist. viralise that, fuckheads.
anyway, you don't like your life you can change it. did i hate every second? no, but i'm tormented by how lucky i am every day anyway (so should you be), so i'll add my ability to piss bile about choices i made for myself as another middle class privilege. i guess.
the upshot? i dipped out graciously on the premise of going to do an MA (i got on, but its five grand i don't have) and joining friends on their US tour (tell me you wouldn't do the same) and the clear desk policy puts paid to grandiose 'shit on it and run' notions) but as i dutifully work out my notice these next few weeks, i'm resolutely leaving this particular breed of suckers in their rancid (gold) dust.
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