Tuesday 11 October 2011

Distance

I wonder whether we are supposed to think of distance in the same way as we consider age - just a number. If we are, then the number is a mere 5355 miles. Nothing really. Except it is so much more than a number.
It's really not just the inconvenience. Well, having said that, I could have done with him being here when I came home to no electricity. When I realised there were far too many lightbulbs that need replacing. When I noticed the over-flowing bins. When I couldn't be bothered sorting the dirty washing. When I felt chilly curled up on the sofa.
It isn't even the fact that I'm on my own. I quite enjoy my own company (if I do say so myself). I can manage to concoct my own dinner. Do the shopping. Watch some TV. Scout for films. Chat to friends & family. Avoid housework (at all costs).

I miss him.

Not in a pathetic way. He's my buddy. My bear. My true love. And today is only Day One. From tomorrow he moves even further away - 11412 miles! And there are 13 more days to go...

Tuesday 15 February 2011

T-bloody-mesis

Tmesis. What a great word (for one) and (secondly) what a fabulous little linguistic phenomenon.

Anyway...why is it that I think of great things to blog about when I am up to my eyes in something yet when the time comes for a little literary musing, my mind is blank. The nugget of knowledge that once had entered my mind has become hidden under a proverbial pile of paperwork in the in-tray of my life.

I could witter about current affairs, recent cinematic experiences, life's ups-and-downs. But that would be dull. So I shall refrain and return to my author's cap another day.

Tuesday 4 January 2011

If in doubt, get out

I've tried every single position but no joy. Under the covers. On top. With a pillow. Without. Pyjamas. Birthday suit. And now I've given up. I just can't sleep.

It's easy to treat the symptoms and forget to look for the cause which is what I tried for some hours. Now at after 3:00am when I will be up at 7:00am, I find myself writing in an attempt to begin eradicating the cause. However, when it comes to a list as long as the M4 of general life-related stresses, this is merely the equivalent of a first dose of radiotherapy with a lot more work to be done to resolve a problem which many never conquer.

Work sucks. Now I know that that is a familiar refrain and were I unfortunate enough to have a job involving handling dead things or any form of waste products, most would take my statement at face value and understand immediately. However, as my job (thankfully) does not force me to gut fish or analyse stool samples, I may simply be seen as yet another whinger. Far from it. What makes work suck so considerably is that I loved my job. And now I don't. Or rather, I am unable to get on with my work the way I always have (with a certain degree of autonomy as I was fortunate enough to have been born with a fully-functioning brain and earned my common-sense badge on Day One). Instead I am forced to partake in a work-by-numbers exercise, very much marched to a tune I barely recognise any longer, surrounded by people I am either unable to help (as it is not written in the Rules) or couldn't give two hoots about. Work sucks.

I hate money. I always used to hate it largely because I had none. Well, I had just enough to pay half of my bills each month, eat like a mouse and pay for the petrol to get me to work to earn the money to pay half of my bills... Now that I have some, I still hate it. I still find myself wishing I could pull a 'Tom & Barbara' and live a blissfully simple life trading eggs for sugar, carrots for loo roll and a smile for whatever I can get! But, alas, they only managed to achieve their 'Good Life' because they had had plenty of money previously and thus owned an enormous house and garden outright. To be honest, without a huge rent/mortgage payment each month, who couldn't enjoy their life to a far greater extent? I know I blooming well could, without having to convert my garden into a potato farm.

And if work and money weren't bad enough, there's always job-hunting to add to the list of woes. Not for me (well, not until this evening as a way of cleansing myself of the hideous day I had endured). The biggest problem, it seems, is looking for a job when you a) don't want one (not because you want to slack off watching Jeremy Kyle, rather you don't want to work for someone else) and b) you have no idea what you want to do. This is posing a problem for the man in my life and as the garden leave has come to an end, we are now living on borrowed time before my second point - Money - becomes a real pain in the ass. Furthermore, my delicious daydreams earlier of walking out of the office and never going back are far more dream than reality when it pays 100% of our current income. I couldn't feel more imprisoned if I worked for HMP.

All of the above (and a hundred other bug-bears) account for it being nearly 4:00am with me wide-awake, unable to drift off into my slumber. Here's hoping the glass of milk I have just consumed and the aromatherapy sleep potion I have applied liberally to my pillow will at least ease the symptoms enough to out-weigh the stresses which are fast-becoming my nemeses.

2011 - This is the year

Or at least it is supposed to be.

So how did this year begin? A year that felt as though it were the first spring dawn after a harsh winter. A year which brought much-anticipated hope; a release from the weights of 2010. A year in which our lives would crank up a notch - careers, family, finances. This oh-so-special year began when I fell in a river on New Year's Day whilst out hill-walking with my family and the future 'in-laws', of course. Perfect. The wonderful evening which followed involved baking my phone on a radiator until it was safe to replace the battery without fear of combustion, trying  desperately to warm my cockles (bum, legs and feet to be more anatomically precise) and wondering whether the ankle agony would keep me company throughout 2011 or was merely a house-guest for the end of the festive period.

Of course, things have improved in the last four days. The ankle has regained movement (minus the excruciating pain) however said pain seems to have stopped-off in my foot and is making itself comfortable for a longer stay than was anticipated. Bugger. And that's about it. Possibly the only silver lining so far.

Today...I returned to work after a glorious two-week break. And as if it weren't enough of a shock to the system, our inspirational, motivational, "New year, fresh opportunities"-team briefing didn't quite hit the mark. No, I exaggerate the positivity of this activity. In fact, it was atrocious. Talk about kicking you when you're not just down but already looking for that bright light and the beckoning of angels to draw you away from the horrors of reality!

No-one's allowed to be ill, need a routine medical appointment, make plans for outside of working hours (which seem to have crept up by another half an hour or so each day), have a life, family or any interests which cannot be pursued whilst also working. Lovely. The fact that half of it is blatantly in contravention of employment law isn't even the worst of it. It all seems to boil down to the fact that I have clearly, although inadvertently, signed my soul away to the Beelzebub and in so doing have taken a vow of a) no fun whatsoever, and b) only ever look after number one, screw anyone else because it is you who will receive a b***ocking if you fail to be sufficiently blood-thirsty. Happy New Year!