I've been feeling a bit low since I caught "the illness," so I whipped out my copy of Syrup, the cover battered from the many hands that have touched it. It's the first book by my favourite author, Max Barry and tells the story of a marketing graduate who's only ambition is to be rich and famous. How he does this, with the assistance of a girl called 6 and Coca-Cola's marketing area, is literary gold.

Syrup never fails to re-energise me. I feel better for reading it and it unblocks a lot of my creative outlets. The silly adventures of the main character are the perfect antithesis for any serious funk I may have gotten myself into. Including being run down by a virus of the stupid kind.

With his first book Max has been able to show me that whatever background you might have, be it sales, marketing or IT; you can get a book published that's funny, sad, exciting and maddening all at the same time. And It's what I want to do.

Hence number six on my list "Write a novel." I've got a few ideas floating around in my head, a few I've even I've fleshed out with characters, supporting characters and the like. I do need to just need to sit down and start writing, as there's only so much plotting one can do. I need to set goals. 200 words a day should do it. Just to be cute I'll start in 2007.

Confession time: In my nearly ten years of driving I've never once owned a street directory. Sure there's always been a copy of Melways in my car, but it's never been mine, just the result of a hand-me-down from the old man whenever he chose to upgrade. I've never actually forked over the cash to purchase one.

Up until now that is. And up until now I've never had a Melways that was younger than my car. This, of course, has been the cause of more than a few problems. A few months back I had to go visit my cousin out in Pearcedale, the Melways (a 1993 vintage) showed only huge tracts of land out in that general direction. I eventually got there after making a few phone calls to get myself pointed in the right direction.

But no longer. No longer will I rely on guesswork, phone calls and whereis.com.au's terrible navigation service. For you see, today I bought a new street directory. And not just any old street directory. A 2007 edition Melways. Full of the miracle of urban expansion all bound in a clear plastic slip.

If I can hold off long enough I won't even need to update this one. The flying car would've made street directories all but obsolete.

The chesty sickness that claimed me the other day has slowly gotten worse. After a quick trip down to the doctor yesterday I've been diagnosed with pharyngitis, or in layman's terms: an upper respiratory infection. As it's viral there's nothing I can do about it except rest up, drink plenty of fluids and wait for it to run it's course.

It's also contagious, so I'm effectively in quarantine in my house.

An interesting side effect is that I'm not allowed to talk. My once mighty voice has been reduced to a croak, so it's not even worth trying. The novelty of having to gesture at things wore off really quickly though.

As a lot of you know, I've spent the last few weeks applying for a new job outside of the public sector. One that would have me managing content on one website, rather than the six I currently manage.

What I've had to go through can only be described as one of the most drawn out experiences I've ever gone though, and I've been putting up with the government for six years.

I initially found the job through SEEK and had called the advertising agency to ask a few questions. They asked that I come in for a more in depth interview. After that, the interviewer (a HR rep) had expressed some hesitance at my suitability to the role. Explaining that while I may have the creative side won, I might not have the strategic side they were looking for. I countered with the notion that I could quick easily fill any gaps in my skillbase and that it wasn't an issue. A few days later the HR rep, sporting a much more cheery attitude, called back to let me know I'd got through to the next level: an interview with the company itself.

My spirits bolstered, I headed down to Myer and grabbed a new shirt and tie to impress my potential employers. Yes, that's right. For the first time in about three years I wore a tie. Scary, scary stuff I know.

Now, wanting to further impress these people, and on advise of the HR rep, I reviewed the entire website, wrote up two pages of comments and changes and even ran a standards compliance check over the site and collated that in a folder.

The actual meeting itself was more like an hour long informal chat with the girl who would be my supervisor. I learned a lot about what would be required from me and impressed upon the interviewer the skill and knowledge I could bring to the role. She was impressed with my Folder of Ideas, and suggested that if I was to get through to the next round I should bring it back with me. We really hit it off in the professional sense and I was starting to have high hopes about the job. At the end of the interview she let me know that they'd be getting back to me the next day, so I was pleasantly surprised to get a call from the HR rep that very day saying that they wanted me back for round three.

As things were beginning to heat up it was time to step things up and grab yet another shirt and tie. So off I went to Myer to grab another shirt/tie combo. Well the next big day rolled around and I got the customary visit from the Nerve Fairy in the hour leading up to go time. Then the HR Rep called to ask if I minded pushing the interview back a day. The boss of the area had wanted to meet me at this third interview and couldn't make it. Of course I said it was fine to reschedule. How could I not? It's around this time that I begin to get the signs of an impending head cold. I'm running on coffee and Codral from this point.

Fast forward to the next day and I'm in the same gear as I was for the second interview. There was no way I'd wear the same shirt as the day before. Only because I didn't really want to have to deal with my current coworkers. They were already taking great delight in the fact I was suited up. Sure enough I receive another call from the HR Rep, asking if the interview can be put back an hour. I'm fine with that. What's an hour between prospective workmates anyway?

I arrive at the place and am introduced to the boss lady. She seems nice enough, although she explains that she can't stay in the interview very long due to other more pressing matters that needed attending to. The interview is a lot more formal this time around. I'm asked a lot of high level questions, I assume to test my ability to think laterally and whatnot. Once again I get along reasonably well with this boss lady. Spirits are soaring. After she leaves I have another informal chat with the supervisor that goes well. At the end I'm told they'll get back to me the next day. The next day (a Friday) rolls around and no phone call. Thinking they may still be thinking it over I resolve to call them on the Monday. That morning I gave the HR rep a call and left a message on her voicemail. I hear nothing back until yesterday morning. And it's not the news I want: I didn't get the job.

So what went wrong?
While I was a hit with the supervisor and got nothing but green lights across the board, the boss lady was concerned I didn't have the skills needed for the role. She came to this conclusion after 30 minutes of interrupted conversation. Not that I'm bitter of course.

The head cold I'd been battling for a couple of weeks finally got the upper hand and rendered me bed ridden for a goodly portion of today. Once I'm back on my feet I'm charging right back into the job search arena. There's a job out there for me. I know it.

While lying awake at 4am this morning I got to thinking about number seven on my Things to Do Before I Die list: Cook a three-course meal.

For the entree I'd drizzle a thin zig-zag of truffle oil into a bowl, then place a poached egg in the center. Around the egg I'd place a few ravioli. Six seems like a good number.

The main course would be a medium-rare eye fillet sitting on a round polenta cake and covered with a mushroom ragout.

The meal would be served with a side of mashed potato and a green salad.

I hadn't begun to think about what the dessert could be before I was finally reclaimed by sleep. After such a big meal I don't think it would need to be that outlandish. Maybe small puddings or some sort of panna cotta. I'm tempted to try and make a blood orange creme brulée, but that might be taking things too far.