Fear of Failure (yes, I'm capitalising it).

Some people use it as fuel, the hot hard core of their ambition.

Others are so crippled by it that they don't even try - which of course is a type of failure. It's a vicious circle. So scared of failing that you don't even try and in the process fail anyway.

It's ridiculous.

I've had enough of bitching about how sick I am of this city, how I feel stuck in a rut or something.

I can't even bitch about being scared to call The Producer 'cause Fate's wheels turned and clicked and we bumped into each other. And it was good news that I heard - but obviously I've barely done a thing about it. Written a couple of paragraphs. Why? Because I'm scared they won't like what I come up with when I know this thing inside-out, back-to-front and in Latin if it really came to it? Probably. It's taken on tones of apathy, this fear of failing thing. It's become more of a "nah I can't really be bothered" more than I "oh god what if they don't like it." It's just a masquerade.

But enough. If I'm tired of London (then I'm tired of life?) then I can do something about it. And I am.

And this writing thing. I'm going to do it. I need some self-discipline. I need to find somewhere to work; there are way too many distractions here. But people are leaving and going back to school and so on so the place will empty out a little. That might help.

And a job. I need to get a job. I don't have time this week (no, honestly, I'm already working on Thursday and Friday) but Monday morning, bright and early, I'll go do the rounds of the agencies, peruse the Guardian Media. Get something to keep me going.

And soon I'll blow the hell out of this popsicle stand.