And now we know what I shouldn't be when I grow up

There is something about life while unemployed that is particularly revealing. Life, while working, is a constant and never ending 'to do' list. There is never enough time to get everything done and still enjoy yourself which is why the expectation is that having some time away from work is a good thing.

This is a horrible horrible lie.
Upon returning to the UK to find that my recruiter and the firm handling my visa transfer had between the two of them made things so remarkably complicated that my company-to-be had rescinded their offer, I was immediately relieved. I shouldn't have been. I should have been irate that the offer had been rescinded weeks before while I was still in the US and no one had bothered to tell me. I should have been furious (and briefly was) that no one had mentioned the initial problem to me which I could have resolved in seconds. In fact upon the afternoon of my return to London, mere hours before receiving final confirmation from the company that the offer was in fact rescinded and why, I took a jet-lagged nap and had what could only be described as a nightmare that the offer was still on the table and they were merely awaiting the finalization of the paperwork for me to begin.

At this point, having lost a great deal of time in the job search process I got to work. I redid my CV creating several versions for different types of positions. I searched relentlessly for recruiting firms that remotely claimed that they handled marketing and the IT industry contacting in total over 80 firms. I finally narrowed it down to the three or four that actually deal with what I do specifically. It was miserable draining work and it took ages. Once it was done I leapt at the chance to explore museums and investigate London and all it offers. Aside from the British museum, which due to an adolescent obsession with archeology I never fully recovered from was hugely enjoyable, I have discovered that I hate museums. I hate being a tourist and probably I also hate tourists.

I now alternate between brutal efficiency and semi catatonic stupor broken up by afternoon napping. The hight of the efficiency was last Tuesday when I woke and up bounded to the gym where I stayed for two hours deciding to add a swim to my normal work out, ran errands, did laundry, roasted a chicken, cleaned the kitchen, journaled and cleaned my room. At this point it was two in the afternoon and I was bored out of my mind and completely out of anything remotely productive to do. In desperation I went to the National Gallery where I discovered that 90% of their pictures are of a very blond Jesus and the rest of their paintings are disappointing. I say disappointing fully realizing that they have what on paper looks like an amazing collection. But their Michelangelo paintings are unfinished and religious. If he wasn't even interested enough to finish them, why should I care about them. Their Monet's are not the good ones. They're the ones where you go 'oh... that one... okay.' Even the water lily painting they have is the only one from the series that I don't like.

Oh well... perhaps I'm just not meant to be idle.