Electric... Electric... Electric

So much for all that guff a few posts ago about traversing the unknown and unfamiliar, eh?

I'm nearly two weeks into my job and I've got to say — Familiarity effin' Rules!!

Back at the publication I worked with in the past (revelation of names could result in lawsuits or rather less extreme mirth-making at my expense or something), living large and in charge, minus the "in charge" part. As far as corporate hierarchy goes, I think I'm somewhere just above the guy who makes tea and glares at me if I ask him when it's gonna arrive and why it's taking so goddamn long.

Regardless, I'd believed (foolishly perhaps) that going back to the same publication as before, could lead to a stagnation of style, thought and self. Therefore, it would seem by that rationale, that working at a different place is the way to go. Right? Not quite, but partially correct.

Partially correct in that one would gain new exposure yada yada yada with new people and new ideologies... but wait! That only works if one's been at an organisation long enough to stagnate, which clearly wasn't the case with me and so nullifies this argument and finds me out trawling the streets for stories in my new job as a reporter. A real reporter and not just one who covers music shows, art exhibitions and plays (honest to God, plays!!). Scouring the administrative process for a little lead that could translate to a story is a lot more fun than I'd previously imagined or believed. But it's early days yet; everyone loves their job at the very very start.

I still didn't have the whole life-affirming, grab you by the nuts, take no guff from these swine, supercharged and electrified vibe. The little buzz inside or a tiny click that lets you know you're in the right place. Until, of course, Friday night with notorious miscreant Maavesh Kumar.

For the umpteenth time, I saw what is fast becoming one of my favourite bands in the world (good enough to break the top 5 soon), Pentagram live. And for the umpteenth time, they blew me away! It wasn't that it was a particularly great venue or that the Duke-Gonzo (in the absence of the regular Gonzo) act we tried to pull on the venue's owners was a great success or anything. Or even that as a member of the press, I got respect or anything. Far from it. In fact, that's another gripe for another time. The ol' "Why Broadcast Journalism and Journalists Suck Ass" debate. You are all invited to participate in the same.

It was the reminder that I can be a serious reporter dealing with serious issues and handle the fun stuff as well. Duality. Familiarity with the organisation led them to believe I could handle both and so here, I am going to see bands for free on one hand and hassling the administration and the authoritaah on the other.

Suddenly, the concept of being a working stiff doesn't suck so hard anymore!