In August last year, I started this blog. I was in a pensive mood, caught up in my own thoughts about being a Joziburger™. A love/hate relationship that was part of what I had been and what I wanted to be…an editorial graphic designer vs a free-agent-who-will-do-anything-that-makes-life-interesting.
Some 220-plus applications for jobs, only five-or-so interviews, and only two replies………..that hurts. I have a CV that I am proud of, achievements that are singular, places I’ve been and seen, projects that wouldn’t have worked if I hadn’t thrown myself wholeheartedly into them.
That’s when you look in the mirror and wonder if your career was all just smoke….and mirrors.
Continue reading “Six million other trees”
I DO think I’m mad. Bloody crazy. Nuts. Gaga. Talk about biting off more than I can chew? Tomorrow is the day for doing that.
I am going to embrace my insane Joziburger self and Go Big Or Go Home.
First up: my inaugural meeting at the local chapter of BNI. This will be at 7am. Yes. 7am. Yay, for doing the school run at sunrise. **thud** I’m hoping I can slot in there, and make myself useful (and make myself some money), while finding out what the other members can do for me.
Continue reading “Freakish Friday”
“Oh, no,” you say, “another bloody blog about bloody Johannesburg. When will it end?”
You’re probably right. But this is a blog about how I see Joburg. Jozi. And how it makes me smile and wonder.
These days my life involves a lot more travel around Jozi. I was retrenched in January. Now I have to find ways to earn the proverbial rusk. I have visited more parts of the city than I ever did before…probably because I was once stuck in an office every day, five days a week – part of the engine room below decks.
I’ve tried to find work that is the same as what I did before, but Jozi also has her bitch side. There is no work. Or – if there is – then it is at a pittance, or else the purveyors of that work are in hack-and-slash mode and want to chop this tall poppy (ok, short poppie) down to size by telling me I’m too old, or overqualified.
Fuck. (Yes, I swear. Live with it.)
Continue reading “Why another blog about Jozi?”