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Milkman / Rogue Trader

 Rogue Trader?

 Milkman?

Sorry, it’s late and I find myself looking for images of milkmen. You’ll understand why later.

Some Stuff Up

I’ve got a few bits of work up on the portfolio page. Please feel free to comment and criticize. More one the way when my bum is not so numb.

The Other Cowboys Always Made Fun Of Cisco

I was looking for an image today for an idea for I’m working on for my portfolio and found this little beauty (seen on redboots.net). Not quite what I was looking for. Wikipedia says Cacti have “always aroused much interest”. Yup.

Phew, Worried For A Second…

But they allow graffiti, right?

(snapped yesterday in Chorlton…the perp seems to have got a bit carried away though and sprayed it several times in a small area. Once is enough fella, and it’s all about the placement).

Time To Dress Down & Eat Poorly

I sent out a speculative email to the leading ad agencies (ok, the ones I could find) in Manchester a couple of weeks ago, just to test the water. Today I got a call from one of them. So I’ve got my first book review & meeting since god knows when. Aswell as working on my portfolio as much as possible over the next two weeks, I think I’ll also cut out all fruit and veg from my diet in an attempt to look like I need a good meal. Fingers crossed the combined power of my portfolio and their pity might get me a placement. 

Selling Yourself Short?

Over the last couple of days I’ve been whizzing through loads of blogs that I’ve found since deciding to start up my own. There’s tonnes of ad blogs and creative blogs. Some, similar to me, were aspiring creatives trying to put their portfolio together, trying to get a placement and ultimately that first job.

One in particular I found, was a dead blog. The owner had seemingly packed in last Autumn. The last few posts were bleak and desperate in tone and content. The writer was suffering from what surely 99% of aspiring creatives go through: self doubt.

It goes something like:

Decide want job in advertising. Work on book. Contact some agencies. Work on book. Get placement. Feel good. Placement ends. Feel bad. Work on book. Realise need to pay rent/mortgage. Feel worse. Reach edge of cliff.

 It’s at the edge of this cliff where everyone of us has to make the decision I guess. You either jump, or you turn back and wonder what it would have been like. Now, I couldn’t tell this person because s/he’d already abandoned their blog, but I would have said this: For fuck sake, JUMP.

I turned back a few years ago, not continuing with a placement I had at BJL in Manchester. Mistake. Feel Bad. I’ve been paying the rent and now I’m paying the mortgage, but the desire to do what you really want to do, doesn’t fade. I should have jumped. It’s scary and it seems a long way down, but at least one of two things is gonna happen.

i) You’re gonna enjoy the ride.

ii) Eventually you’ll land. And it should be where you want to be.

I read somewhere once that the secret to being happy in work, is to find something you enjoy doing and then find a way to get paid for it. If you’re not happy in what you’re doing, why do it? So, yes, I agree the girl in the picture would look fitter with long hair. But what it’s really saying, is to make the most of what you’ve got.

So, I hope that other blogger, like me, is getting ready to take the jump again.

London Police in Manchester

There’s not many as worthy of a first post as The London Police (since ‘98) . I missed this one, it’s scrawled up a lamp post just near Trof in the Northern Quarter, but my mate who’s about 7ft tall found it directly in his vision. If you see any ‘Lads’ around Manchester let us know, I’m gonna hunt down some more hopefully. Keep up the good work, er, lads.

Redundant

Autumn 2007, one day I was up to the usual: talking up a great idea with one of my friends. ‘Really gonna do this one’. You know what I mean. It was a beauty alright. If only I didn’t have a job. Then I’d have all the free time necessary to start the project.

Fast forward to xmas. Redundant. Quite a word. One that scares the shit out of you, but strangely gives you a sense of freedom at the same time. So while I’m still looking for a job and benefitting from the epiphany, that my life won’t actually mean anything unless I do things every day that mean something to me, I can start pisspoorenglish.

Of course the big idea was more golden and honey soaked in my head than this here blog. I would tour Britain finding and documenting all those ace little comments you see in the bogs of your favourite dingy bars. Of course I’d have to drink in the bars too. And get to know the bar tender. Stories you see, stories. And we’d do a town every day. And perhaps we’d be driving a V-dub van. We – I’d need friends, photographers and stuff – we could be on the road for three months…

In reality, I’m gonna get on the 86 bus into Manchester again, mooch about town and if I see something I like I’ll post it up. Still an excuse for a drink though eh.