because I said so

telling it like I think it is: sunili’s blog

I need a %@#*%@$(@#^!%ing holiday

with 4 comments

Today marks the 6 -month anniversary (demi-anniversary?) of my status as a worker-bee.

For the last six months, I have caught the bus or sat in traffic (listening to Nathan and Nat on Nova, of course) to sit in front of a computer screen in a large capsule of concrete, steel and glass (not that I ever see much glass from my cubicle) for several hours, eat rice crackers and cottage cheese at my desk, get massive headaches from the lack of Vitamin-D, then go back home to forrage for tinned soup or whatnot, then collapse into bed, just to wake up and do it all over again.

(That sentence was long and exhausting for a reason.  Any of you wannabe sub-editors who are clenching their jaws should desist and sigh with relief at the knowledge that yes, I know the rules of grammar, so I have the right to break them, a’iight?)

But what about weekends, you ask? How can today be the demi-anniversary when today is Saturday?

Because I am working today, thankyouverymuch.

My co-worker-bee has skipped town to visit the Pope the week we have a massive deadline (but to be fair, this mofo project shoulda been done months ago, and when she booked her leave we all assumed it would be gonekthxbai) and The Boss has me doing work I shouldn’t even be doing. Let alone have the capacity to do. And I am freaking out about it.

I did get out to see The Dark Knight — which is freaking AWESOME and they showed The X-Files: I Want to Believe trailer which looks like it’s going to be EVEN MORE AWESOME — this morning but I didn’t get to sleep in because I knew I had to get to the first session or else the whole day would be wasted.

This nuerotic, bitching post probably shouldn’t be here; I suppose I could’ve put it in my anonymous nuerotic-bitching blog, but I swear, I have a point.

My point is this:

I NEED A MOTHER-FUNKING HOLIDAY GOSHDARNIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh, my other point: people are way too overworked and we live in a society that is too fast-paced where we have too-high expectations on us and it is totally shit and we need to figure out a better way. Right now. Because this effing sucks, people. Yeah, I said “effing”. You know it’s bad.

I am just EXHAUSTED. My brain hurts. My body aches. I can’t be arsed going to the shops to get anything decent for dinner and Lean Cuisines are NOT about “Looking After Yourself” unless you are some strange bot who survives on expensive cardboard beans. My two weeks’ of regularly going to the gym is staring at me  and in sad, lonely, mouth-gaping shock and I have even stopped caring about the fact my hair looks like I should be one of the principles in Wicked. The only upside is that The Boyfriend is on a graduates’ junket with his work this weekend so at LEAST it doesn’t matter that I haven’t waxed my legs.

I feel the odd mix of catatonia and rage that signals an imminent breakdown, and I am freaking out.

There was a post on fabulous new (shiny new! Like 4-days-old new! NEW new!!) Perth blog Beyond Beeton that totally made me feel like I was in Oprah’s audience (on one of the serious episodes not the ones with the free stuff, unfortunately — wouldn’t that just be freaking GREAT?) and I just wanted to nod all seriously and shout out “AMEN, SISTER” in a manner befitting a large, Southern, African-American lady. And I suppose I could have since there was no one in the office because EVERYONE IS ON HOLIDAYS.

But of course, I am a small South-Asian Australian girl, and even I would have thought it kind of out of place.

Anyway, I will replicate the fervor-inducing passages from the post “Feminism really needs to go away and leave me alone for a while” here:

There’s nothing more empowering than having your apron strings untied from the sink.

Unless you get untied from the sink so that you can trot off in a wool suit to your box on the terrace for every daylight hour and more besides, after which you will glamorously engage in up-to-the-minute witty banter with 40 of your nearest and dearest colleagues who you are dining with again. You then of course go home, ring your mother and actually listen to what she says, clean the toilet, put the bin out (you’re a liberated woman after all), read the paper and a few novels (see the witty banter point above), bake something nice to take to work tomorrow and save at least 15 children from starvation or tractor accidents or something, all while looking hopelessly alluring.

If you’re managing all that and vodka isn’t a part of your daily routine then I hate you and there is nothing for you here.

AMEN, SISTER. A-fricking-MEN.

I wonder if the other Buddhists will notice that I’m breaking a precept during our version of Lent if I crack open the sav-blanc in the fridge that I am looking after for a friend who left it at a work do and have totally forgotten to give back (because I do not function til I get off the bus and to Ristretto, and always forget to take it to work)?

Because I have a forbording sense of desperation and fear that everything is not going to be alright.

Ah well. At least I have blogging with which to vent.

PS — Beeton, if you are reading this: I can’t comment on your posts because it says I need to log in? But you’re not on wordpress.com? Can you please check that? I would be sad if I can’t comment, and I’m sure everyone here would *realise* how truly nutso I was if I resorted to posting here so that I could ping back to you.

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Written by Sunili

19 July 2008 at 8:42 pm

4 Responses

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  1. Sounds like a horrid day. I hope Sunday is a nicer one for you.

    Are you going steady with Ristretto or does Velvet get a look in too? I try and spread my love between them although I’m also having a bit of a fling with Epic on the side. Poo to Corey for leaving Allendale arcade and making me trek further. 😦

    I have fixed the comments thing now, I think. I messed it all up when I transferred to the new host. Oops.

    beeton

    19 July 2008 at 11:03 pm

  2. My Late, Beloved maternal Grandmother was somehow prophetic in the adage that she had adopted (out of sheer necessity) : “It’s not so much the high cost of living that creates difficulties as the cost of high living.”
    Read “Your Money or your Life” by Joe Dominguez as an exemplar of why it is that individuals have to earn so much money and for so long. It’s a little dated but some things just don’t change.
    The ‘weeping barrel’ analogy is particularly pertinent.

    Rolly

    20 July 2008 at 8:14 am

  3. you listen to Nat and Nathan?

    good grief – hang your head in shame

    your image as a smart and switched-on young professional just evaporated like Lake Monger mist.

    skink

    21 July 2008 at 8:28 am

  4. Beeton – I’ll go to Velvet if I’m meeting someone. Emmanuel @ Ristretto said he’d be keen to get a bigger place with tables and chairs and stuff and I guess I’d commit if that ever happened. Epic is orright too, but I can’t justify stopping there on the way to work to get coffee! It seems much too extravagant.

    Also, I am currently working my way through a bag of freshly ground Fiori single-origin rainforest blend (Grendel would be so proud of me) from Tiger Tiger when it is too rainy to cross the Terrace.

    Rolly – I guess the para directly above proves that I am doing too much ‘high-living’?

    skink – oh poo-poo to you. They are funny! And Nat even has a blog. Do you have a blog? Not last time I checked. So nyah! 😀

    Sunili

    23 July 2008 at 12:46 pm


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