I hate filling out forms.

Especially forms which drive home the impression that I don't look good on paper.

I'm not going to make it to the Tattoo Convention today.

Which I'm sure is a great relief to my parents, who are forever afraid that I'm going to follow the my brother and sister and get inked.

Funny thing: Last week there was a Jailer sitting back in the courtroom. The jailers are usually tough, muscular, tattooed folk. The black ones sometimes have neat dreadlocks.

This one was about fiftyish, white haired caucasian. Still not the kind of chap I would want to fight, but a little different from the rest.

In any case, he was chilling on my side of the courtroom, the opposite side from the Secure Dock.

As I do, I got talking to him. Somewhere along the way I asked him what the jailers do when they aren't up in the court room:

'So what do you do? Play chess, read Baudelaire?'

I wasn't trying to put the jailers down, it was just me being a Smart Alec, but on reflection I really shouldn't have tried it on. But I could tell that he had a sense of humour. He still surprised me with his response.

'Oh yeah, we love a bit of Les Fleurs Du Mal.'

That's what catches me offguard about England. Finding the most interesting people in the most unlikely places.

Anyways, I better go back and finish that form.

Over and out.

J

Addendum:

It's nearly nine o'clock, and despite all the talk of imminent shark jumping etc, I decided not to hand in the application form. For a couple of reasons:

First of all, I still felt conflicted. I have a history of not moving when I should, but I also have a long history of walking out on a good thing when I should stick with it. I don't know what the ratio is, or whether it is the result of some specific chemical imbalance that can be corrected with just the right kind of medication. The point being is that I have come this far, I think I will stay with the List Calling position for a while longer.

The second reason (which relates to the first) is that the form required two professional referrees and one personal (who has known me for at least two years and is not a relative)... being a relatively recent arrival in the UK, the only people who have known me for more than two years are relatives.

And John Drake.

And possibly Hilary (though I think she is just shy of the cutoff... besides which, I can imagine the things she would tell them: 'He sleeps too much, he wears a stupid bandanna despite me repeatedly telling him not to, he talks to strangers even though he knows that I find it embarassing, my Mother never thought he was good enough for me etc).

Nope. Adding a personal referree with all the addresses and whatnot wasn't possibe in the timeframe.

Of course, the clincher was that the form stated clearly that the first thing that Borders would do would be to contact my Supervisor at the Courthouse for chat. Given that List Calling is a very speciallised thing, given that Highbury Corner is perennially shortstaffed and given that if I was to go I would be the third List-caller to come and go since the beginning of September, I can't imagine it would go down well.

It's just not a bridge I'm willing to burn. Not just yet.

Of course, I would have been able to create some kind of damage control... like make Anj the contact on the form. But that would have needed to have been done yesterday.

Nevermind.

I'm going to work at the Courthouse for a bit more while I consider and prepare for my next move.

Besides, every day that I survive in that sometimes hellish job, every morning I ride the Savage Express to work, feels like a point of pride for me.

Anyways, I'm feeling a little down. I think I'll go see Serenity.

Over and out.

J