Apalethargy

I'm not totally apathetic. Sometimes I just can't be bothered.

Not blogging. I'm never too out-of-it to blog. But then again, blogging is the only pretty regular thing in my life right now. It's the irregularities that are the fun things - aren't they always? The gig I played a couple of weeks ago, and the one I'm in the formative stages of planning for next month (I play an average of one a year at the rate I'm going, so this is pretty good). Mitch Benn's Distraction Club I attended last night, which was awesome. Seeing 47. Seeing H. They're all good things and they all happen sporadically.

I'm not exactly one to stick to a daily routine, but then again, I need some semblance of something to avoid. Sitting at home and jobsearching doesn't really cut it. Jobsearching generally involves sending things off via the internet, and that's what I do anyway.

Although yesterday afternoon I decided to make a bit of an impact, so instead of the standard form letter, I 'phoned the job I was applying for.

"Hello?"
"Hello there. I'm sorry for the unsolicited call, but I'm interested in this job, the reference number is 24601."
"Ah yes, do you have the application pack from our website?"
"Yes, I do, but I was wondering if I could send a hard copy to you through the post?"
"Of course you can, if it would be easier for you."
"What's easier for you? Because I can do either, but I think my application would come through a little better if I could post it."
"No problem. Our address is..."

And I filled in my details on the form and printed it out. Yes, that way around - I sent a hard copy of a typed application form. And a hard copy of my CV. Along with a covering letter which I wrote from scratch. Not that they asked for one, but I like signing my name. And I needed to put some stuff in which there wasn't space for on the application form.

Although that's a rare example. Cheekily charming though that may well seem to be, it's not the sort of thing I usually do. Yes, blogging wakes me up (I should start writing in here first thing in the morning), but a combination of things are killing my drive at the moment, and they are these things:

- The heat. It's a lovely day outside. Spring. I'm enjoying this. Missed it last year, I was in the bathroom. We seemed to go straight from winter to summer and back again. But we suddenly have heat, and although it makes - as I pointed out to @atheatricallife the other day - the sky look wonderful, and my garden look pretty (my cat, Willow, is doing her best lion impression, rolling around on her back), heat is always soporific. I'd rather be hot than cold, but it makes me so sleepy.
- My stomach. I'm not having many IBS cramps these days, because although there's boredom, there's not a lot of stress. For me, anyway. But it's still making me want to use the toilet a hell of a lot (TMI?), and that's interrupting any flow of productivity I may be threatening to get into.
- Lack of sex. Always something that's irritated me. But in spring it always builds to heightened levels.
- YouTube. Hooray, it's a new day! Time to be productive, I have such big plans for today! But first... let's look at the plethora of funny animals instead! Hey, look, that rabbit's on a skateboard. This is now my purpose in life. Play me off, keyboard cat.
- Lack of anything to work towards. Let's be honest, I don't have any immediate goals. I don't have any future goals either, apart from maybe at some point manage to get laid. But since my only real long-term goal is to move out of this stupid house as soon as I possibly can, and that doesn't look realistic with the prices around here even if I did have a job, looking for work for the sake of looking for work just seems a bit pointless. Especially when nobody interviews me. Ever. At all.

To be honest, I sound like a bit of a slacker. I'm not. I'm really not. It's just that on days like this, when it's warm and there's nothing particularly apparent to do and all, lying naked on my bed with the curtains and windows open (although I'd check to make sure nobody was watching, natch) seems like the right course of action. And when the alternative is the equivalent of running repeatedly into a brick wall until you faint from blood loss, it doesn't seem like a terribly fair competition.

Plus, I can't fail at lying down. I always seem to be quite good at achieving that end.