Diary of an up and coming sociopath

Finally. My weeks of hard work have paid off. Today I was offered a position at Kelkoo, subject to references, doing SQL-related stuff. The days of spending hours a night searching crappy job sites with bad interfaces, looking for jobs I’m not qualified to do, are over. For now. My financial woes are already feeling like a fading memory. If there aren’t any unexpected hurdles, in 3 months I’ll have earnt around £4000. I used to live on almost that much a year. If nothing else, I can finally stop whining about jobs and money, and start whining about getting up early and using the tube.

This does mean that I’ll never get to go do that Sky interview, which is kind of sad, because I reckon I’d have probably got that job. Luckily, I didn’t really want it much. I may have mentioned once or twice how games testing turns me into a quivering wreck. I’m working in development, and something resembling web development at that. I am frankly overjoyed at the prospect, because it’s a professional job in a huge name of a company. There’s not a person I’ve told who doesn’t go “Ah, yes, Kelkoo. I’ve heard of them.” It’s often succeeded by them saying “I kept ending up at their site when I was trying to buy a digital camera.” My dad recognised their name because of the sponsored links on Google. Who’d have thought those things actually work?

Casual clothing; my own choice (within reason) of starting time; a prestigious location in the centre of London. Truly, they are a modern progressive company. Above all, I never had to get that haircut.

But that’s not all I’ve been doing since my last update. On Saturday Nikki and I helped pack up Nan and Pad’s back room, ready for their moving on Tuesday. Luckily for me, Nikki found a bunch of old photo albums full of pictures of me from when I was young. Really young. And occasionally feasting on a piece of cake the size of my giant 6 year old head. Also, pictures of Mum and Dad from the early 80’s, looking like the fashion victims everyone was, at the time. On Sunday, Dad, Pat, Gordon and I paked up all their kitchen stuff.

It’s strange that they’re moving out. I literally grew up in that house. I spent probably 90% of sundays of my entire life there, no exaggeration. I only stopped going every week, for as long as I could remember, when I moved to Uni. However, while it’s strange, it’s not sad. Before Uni, I was always kind of apalled at the idea of moving out of home. It wasn’t just a room, at the time, it was my entire world. The idea that my parents might one day sell up and drag us elsewhere disturbed me greatly. Before Uni, that was. Moving away from home taught me a whole bunch of trite clichés about home being where the heart is, and whatever. My home isn’t one room in one house, it’s not a building, and it’s not the town. It’s where my computer is. I think my home might actually be somewhere on the internet. Where I’m going with this tangent, is to say that the house, even one I’ve grown up in, is still just a house. The people inside are the essence of home, and if they’re going to be happier in a place with less stairs and a conservatory, then that’s the best place for them. Change is, in this case, positive, so why look back?

Finally, I made a post in my oft-neglected livejournal the other day. It’s just about my livejournal name, usericons and stuff, which is why it’s there rather than here, but I felt like I was mining some rich material when I wrote it. Hence, I mention it here for completeness.