This week (which was really only a 3 day working week as I was at an event all day Tuesday and was parent helper at pre-school today) I've written seven press releases. I got client coverage lined up in The Times, The Mail on Sunday, The Telegraph x 2, The Observer, BBC Points West, The Press Association and several parenting magazines. I got a new client. And potentially met someone who'd like to be a US affiliate for me. A successful week by all accounts. I am tired and in need of wine.
But more importantly - as blogged about here and here - I made the big decision to add more complexity to my life by trying out for a leg of an around the world yacht race. I now have a confirmed interview date. Next Friday. 6th Feb. I'm not sure how long after that they'll let me know whether I need to frantically start gaining upper body strength or whether I can revert to my more normal ninety pound weakling status (I'm nowhere close to be 90lbs but the weakling part is true).
My big challenge is 'what do I wear to the interview?' In essence, this is a job interview. That would normally call for a suit. However, as the job in question involves climbing up masts and scrubbing out heads, suits aren't really called for. Maybe I need to be wearing something suitably sailory. Like jeans, docksiders, a stripey shirt and a head scarf. But maybe that says I'm too casual and not taking it seriously enough. It definitely can't be girly. Ruffles and heels just aren't going to paint the right picture, is it? I have a week to decide...
Amazingly, it was less than a week ago that I saw the ad for this race. It seems like a lifetime ago. During this week I feel as though I've been tossed about at sea - already. What started as an 'imagine if' type moment, quickly became a
'I'm really keen'
'Shit I'm scared'
'But I really want it'
'But it's barking'
'But it's soooooo much extra stress in your life'
'Sod it, send the application off'
'Wow, ok, this is really becoming quite real' (which is where I am about now.)
I apologise for blogging about this again. It is consuming all of my spare brain capacity - and believe me, there's not a lot of that available. I want to be able to write about other things that have happened this week - like capturing my sons on video beating the living daylights out of each other, or how we had no heat for most of this week as we ran out of oil and how typing with gloves on isn't an easy experience, or simply pondering the meaning of life. You know. Other stuff.
But I can't. From now till next Friday my world is going to revolve around 'what if'. And if it turns out that the answer is 'yes, yes madam, you can certainly climb aboard one of our fine vessels, paying £8k for the priviledge and toil your fingers to the bone while abandoning your children' - my whole world is going to turn into a very, very weird (and frenetic) place.
If however, they say, no sorry, you didn't make it on this time but please reapply in 2011, will my world feel a lot emptier all of a sudden?
My sister thinks I've done this because I need drama in my life. She thinks I felt my life was getting too normal (no new babies, new businesses or flooded houses on the horizon) so needed to shake it up. Maybe she's right. Maybe I am the ultimate drama queen, always in search of something more to create excitement, something to ensure every hour of every day is full. But is that such a bad thing?