Future life

After a period of (since my last post) writers block, fruitless job seeking, frustration, irritation and slight depression I finally see some hope. I’ve still got the writers block but it doesn’t bother me much since I know inspiration will come when it comes. I’m not yet serious enough to force myself to write. But what made me pick up myself and look forward? Two things happened the seventeenth that has nothing to do with each other. The first happend when I was looking for possible jobs on ams.se and I saw an opportunity for me to get into a trainee programme to become a speditioner. For a long time I wanted to become a truck driver but never found a good opportunity, and besides, I can’t even afford a driverslicense. This trainee thing was not about trucks but at least it was in the area of spedition and logistic. So I applied and right away started to fantasise about my possible future in that specific area. It made me feel better. Later that same day, ten o’clock in the evening to be precise, the phone rang. I answered, half thinking someone wanted mum and I to go fetch my drunk father who went “socialising” with the neighbours, but instead it was a woman speaking english in the other end. Her name was Joyce Hill and she was asking for me.

About two weeks ago I applyed to an Irish family who was looking for a new au pair. They live on the countryside, yet only two hours travel fom Dublin, on a farm with loads of different animals and only two children that even have a nanny. I couldn’t resist. Last week I got a mail from the dad in the family, Ben, and he told me that Joyce, the children and their present au pair was in France on holiday (!) but if I gave him my number they might contact me when they got back home. I thought I’d never hear from them again.

And so yesterday, the seventeenth, I picked up the phone and was suddenly back speaking english with an irish woman! It was, I don’t know, fun? Exciting? I was just so happy that she phoned at all and actually glad that she didn’t warn me because now I was totally un prepared and relaxed. She sounded lovely. I also got to talk to their swedish au pair, Cecilia, and even that was nice. Not at all like talking to Hanna, the au pair Brenda had befor me. Maybe that also had to do with me not being all wired up before they called. But, it could also be that I’m one and half year older since the first time and now also have loads of more experience than back then. I’ve decided to go. I’ll put off the trainee thing, it can always be done an other time. I’ll be in debt to my parents just to get me there but I think it’s worth it. I’m actually considering staying for good. Well, I will of course come back here once in while since I got family and friends here but I don’t see it as totally unthinkable to have my work and home base on Ireland. Or Scottland if it’ll ever become independent from GB. The nature and climate suits me perfectly.

Dad came home in the middle of the night drunk as I don’t-know-what and with blood on his face. He’d obviously been examining the ground too closly and managed to cut his right brow. Quite deep too, it pobably needed some stitches, but dad was so fucking drunk and unwilling so we didn’t go to the doctor. Instead I taped the wound shut and put daddy to bed since mum started to feel a little bit dizzy from the blood. The cut looked fine to day and I actually managed to shut it successfully though some stitches would’ve done a better job. The scar will be very “ugly” in a handsom way according to me. I’m actually a bit jealous of it ;) Of course mum is ashamed of his manners and I should probably be too but some how I can’t find it in me. It rather amuses me and I think it’s totaly up to him if he wants to be the laughingstock of this village. I have nothing to do with it, have I?