You know when things are going so well - almost too well- that you begin to think your luck has almost certainly run out and you're just waiting for disaster to set in? Well, i've been feeling that way for a while now. You see, i was recently offered a position at my DREAM employer - a world renowned broadcaster trusted for its news, programmes, and documentaries; a place that i had always wanted to be a part of and to be honest, it was a personal ambition of mine to just get my foot in the door at the aforementioned joint.
When i decided to take the great leap into the unknown and move from Toronto to Glasgow, i daydreamed about life on the other side of the Atlantic. i fantasized that i would move to Glasgow, live in an awesome flat, drink overpriced cocktails in noisy pubs, date hunky Scottish lads, maybe apply to law school or maybe just work at the BBC. And somehow, in its own strange way, it's happened.
Of course, i worked hard for it and it didn't just fall into my lap. When i first moved to Glasgow, i worked in a shitty cafe (that i can no longer set foot in) for next to nothing, got fired from a job for not laughing at my boss's jokes (i swear to God, it's true!) and went on some really awful dates (i.e. the Coke Head Fart Blamer).
Yet somehow, despite the pangs of homesickness, life in Glasgow is good; i'm soon to start work at my dream employer, have a decent enough flat, increased my alcohol tolerance and of course, have a wonderful and cute Scottish boyfriend. And so, being the worrier that i am, with a penchant for punishment, i'm just waiting for my luck to run out.