solitary_summer: (Default)
1) I seem to have turned into a very lazy lj-er, & 2) how is time passing so very fast? I still remember rather vividly writing about being happy at having daylight again when I leave work, and now it's already almost dark when I bike home. Gah. Stop!


Spanish continues [Different VHS, different teacher who explains things much better and more clearly, although I had a bit of a shock in the first lesson when everyone was recounting their holidays in indefinido, which, OMG panic! we hadn't learned last semester, but that wasn't too difficult to catch up with, and I'm getting along fine otherwise, so I'm staying. Plus, it's on Monday, and there's at least a chance I'll still be slightly less dead then during the Christmas season than later in the week.], as does belly-dancing (still moving a bit too fast for my taste mostly because my brain needs more time to process and put togehter the parts of the choreographies we're doing, and on top of that almost everyone in the class has much more experience than I have, but perhaps I'm simply masochistic, or perhaps it's that however frustrated I get, I'm still pleasantly surprised that I'm able to do this at all (Me! Dance!), but I'm continuing for the moment.).


Two birthday cakes were made, and what is it with all the autumn birthdays in my family. *sigh*


I've been watching B5, only a few epiodes left of S3 now, but I'm not really feeling the love, somehow. Nostalgic fondness, yes, and there are moments when it grips me, but something's missing...



And when I have the time and energy I've been out photographing, once with H. (flickr guy), and last Saturday there was a meeting of the Vienna flickr group, which turned out to be really nice, especially considering that I almost hadn't gone, because OMG people I don't know! Scary! Stress! Do not want! Why is it so very hard for me to maintain enough of a mental balance to keep up at least a minimal social life (minimal on my standards, not the rest of the world's)?



Work is getting increasingly hectic and if I'm exhausted already, how will I cope with Christmas?


And speaking of which, I had one of my recurrent I-can't-stand-this-job-for-another-minute crisis a couple of weeks ago... )


And speaking of depressed... )

Feeling better now, although I was already dithering on the brink of Sunday-afternoon-depression again today. (Of course it doesn't help that tomorrow morning I'm having the orthodontist appointment from hell, first having my teeth cleaned and then getting the braces adjusted, which by itself is enough to leave me in a state of nervous breakdown most of the time...)
solitary_summer: (alchemist (© clive barker))

Thank god that's over. I had to role play, which wasn't even so bad in the end, but I was angry, shaky and close to tears the whole morning, although there really was no good reason for that. The closest I come to explaining this overreaction is that my usual, probably deeply conditioned, reaction to someone expecting me to do something is to do it as best as I can. But in this case, while I am aware that I could do more, could do it better, it's something that I regard as at least ethically questionable (I believe people should choose books because they want them, not because of whatever subtle or not-so-subtle methods I use to sell them) and I already walk a fine line trying to balance motivation, enjoyment, anything I might get out of the job, against the frustration, the struggle with annoying Boss Person(s) and all kinds of other unpleasantness. On a psychological level I don't think I can do much more without driving myself into a state where this balance would tip pretty fast. And I sure as hell don't want to do more than I already do.

Internal conflict, system failure.

Pathetic.

Treated myself with chocolate.


book meme, gacked from soavezefiretto )

solitary_summer: (solitude (© clive barker))

There are the odd days when I like work, especially when there's a lot to do and things actually get accomplished. Most days I'm pretty okay with it. And there are those days, like today, when I hate it with a passion born out of frustration and restlessness I can't even begin to describe. When I think another moment trapped in there will drive me crazy. When M.'s mannerisms - the rubber gloves she wears for dusting, for god's sake - irritate me out of all proportion.


It passes, after a while.


The really frustrating part is the aimlessness of my anger. I don't know what I'd change. I don't even know what I want, except to be free of this. I don't have the energy to think beyond the next evening when I can finally go home, the next week-end. I'm not strong enough to dream even, much less make these dreams come true. And without anything to drive me, to sufficiently motivate me, what's the point? If I'm being realistic I'm not likely to exchange this job for a better or more satisfying one. Trade one book-shop for another, more likely. At least here I get along with my co-workers, there's no mobbing or back-stabbing, nothing to give me ulcers, after five years I know many of the customers and they know me, I'm feeling half-way competent and in charge...


I wish I knew at least whether the anger or the resignation is the healthier state of mind.
solitary_summer: (candy 2 (© clive barker))

Realised under the shower (where, oddly enough, I seem to have a lot of inspirations/memories of dreams surfacing/self-awareness moments... is it the flowing water?) that I owe sales training guy an apology. Because while I still disagree with plenty of things he says/teaches, much of my hostility is the result of long suppressed frustration and on-going problems with the Big Boss person(s) who always put the blame for everything that goes wrong on us, and only us, while, as far as we're concerned, it's impossible to voice even the most politely veiled criticism. It's intensely frustrating to know what goes wrong and could be improved, but also knowing in advance that it won't even be taken in consideration. So for me he was just another person who didn't know shit about anything, the shops, the customers, our work situation, &c., but thought he knew better and was blaming us. Blaming me, without giving me a possibility to defend myself.


Note to self, don't forget.

solitary_summer: (claws (© clive barker))

I'm still seething.

I am aware that my speech pattern could do with a few less conjuncitves and, more importantly, less apologies. But at a certain point you just have to be honest and say what's what. If I don't have a book, I don't have it. I also may have no idea what the book might be, if the customer only gives me a name or a vague title, whether I'll be able to order it, whether it's out of print, &c. I have no computer, I can only rely on my memory, the catalogues from the publishing houses and sometimes, but not every time a question arises, can call one of the other shops and ask them to look something up. If I know the customer and they aren't in a hurry I can look things up at home and get back to them, which IMO is already way above and beyond the call of duty. There are not enough not-negative, not-weak phrases to gloss this over, and at some point attempting to do so becomes embarrassing for both parties involved. And sometimes a 'sorry' or a 'regrettably' are in order, IMO.

I hate this abuse of language. An outright lie is better than this vague, suggestive obfuscation of facts that erases shades of expression and obscures, blurs and sugar-coates facts. Language should be used as precisely as possible. If you lie you're at least aware that you're doing so, but this manipulative violation of language that operates somewhere in the grey spaces between truth and lie taints. It's dangerous. And then the same people train politicians to sell themselves in exactly the same way, and there's no admitting to uncertainties or the existence of complex facts, because then, god forbid, you'd have to use words like 'maybe'. And the more people are exposed to this kind of language, the more it messes with their way of thinking.

I'm ok with 'This book is sold out' instead of 'I don't have this book', if 'don't' has to be avoided at all cost, but 'I hope' does not ever equal 'I'm convinced' and to replace the one with the other in total disregard of the different meaning feels wrong to me on such a fundamental level I can't even begin to adequately explain. Dirty, somehow. Sometimes a conjunctive, a negation or words like 'maybe' are necessary, which is why most languages did develop them in the first place.





A couple of hours sleep would be nice tomorrow morning, but I think I need a morning run even more, to work off some of the aggression and frustration.
solitary_summer: (masquerade (© clive barker))

Somewhat surprisingly, no hangover this morning. Vague headache, and the realisation that doing things balancing on top of a ladder probably wasn't the best idea, but nothing worse.


Sunday R. and I were in Klosterneuburg, to visit the Essl museum; the exhibition on modern Mexican art was interesting, R. loved Diego Riviera, I preferred the paintings by José Clemente Orozco, and there were a couple of others I really liked, but I didn't take notes like I usually do when I'm at an exhibition on my own so I'm kind of lost for the moment. The Maria Lassnig exhibition was... hard to describe, I find her paintings intriguing and disconcerting at the same time. Interesting contrast, too, come to think of it, the social concern of the Mexican painters and Lassning's more private images and vision of the human body. Modern art still mostly baffles me, and with few exceptions is not really something I like instinctively, but I've been trying to broaden my horizons recently and actually like discovering new artists for myself...

Monday... one of those truly horrible days at work. I think perhaps the hard thing is when you've done something that fits you, that is you, art, writing, thinking, your mind & imagination alert, and then to be stuck again in the mind-numbing routine... anger, restlessness, frustration, changing to apathy and tiredness in the afternoon.

U. called, if I wanted to have a drink after work with some co-workers; I didn't, but it was her birthday, so I went along, & chatted & got drunk & contrary to expectations it wasn't too bad. A weird, but not entirely unpleasant sense of belonging, of not being different all the time, and it didn't feel too wrong, or fake, it was kind of nice. ::shrug:: Probably no one but me would over-analyse getting drunk with a few co-workers... it's just not a thing I usually do, and it felt less weird/awkward than I thought it would.

And maybe I should really start to question my (a?)sexuality, because I found not-really-co-worker-from-another-shop-who-I-barely-know's breasts a little distracting, and that was only half-way through the first drink. Granted, they were pretty, and rather, er, on display, so to speak, but finding them distracting, as in, sexually attractive at all, is another thing that is weird for me, because usually I don't find much of anything sexually attractive, breasts or other body-parts.


Then again perhaps it was the alcohol, because I seem to have reverted to my usual asexual self already & find writing about this slightly strange, like someone else's experience, nothing that I could have felt.



He. I actually managed to finish this entry. Go me, or something.
solitary_summer: (creatrix (© clive barker))

Ouch. Ouch. Sore throat. I sort of hoped I was wrong about it yesterday evening, but apparently not. I don't want to be sick now, with a three day weekend approaching.. ::whine::


My body doesn't usually do this kind of thing, but for once I'm almost tempted to believe that this might be a reaction to the emotional/psychological turmoil of the last two days. I came out of this weekend so happy, satisfied at having roused myself to accomplish something; the contrast made the usual work day a lot bleaker, more mind-numbingly tedious and generally intolerable than I usually feel it is.

At one point I caught myself thinking, and this is what I've become, this is what I was telling myself to learn to be content with? This isn't who I am, this tired, resigned person, standing there eight hours a day, smiling at customers, then escaping home to the fantasy worlds of dvds and books. This isn't me.

[Yes, I'm perfectly aware how utterly, pathetically clicheed that sounds, written down. It felt different, rather more genuine and important.]

Maybe I'm regressing, or having some pre-midlife crisis, or maybe it's spring in the air that makes me itchy and dissatisfied, not wanting to be responsible and mature and realistic and whatnot. Or maybe I had a moment of clarity there.

Yesterday was hell, at least the greater part of the day. Caught between wanting to scream and wanting to cry, rage and claustrophobia, minutes ticking by infinitely slowly.


It comes down to this, I think. I have buried this so deep inside I almost lost it, maybe made myself forget it, but I am only truly happy creating something. That has always come first, the academic aspect of my life came later, and while even in retrospect I don't really regret it, because it has shaped my personality in ways I wouldn't want to miss, the conflict has always been there - I'm assuming a couple of years ago I just became tired of the eternal, futile struggle that got me nowhere.

Giving up the diss... I guess it hurt my self-respect in some ways, but it made me feel like a failure mostly in respect of other people's expectations. My professor's, and, I assume, implicitly my parents', even if they never said anything. Giving up ceramics, any aspirations/pretentions to art, to creating anything, is the real festering wound, something that has a deeper impact on my personality, is linked to it more closely, although I can't quite figure out in what way exactly, or am not any closer to finding a solution and escaping the incapacitating fears and the mental deadlock I've reasoned myself into.

The greatest part of whatever satisfaction I derive from work at the moment is connected to all the major flaws in my personality; my sense of wanting to please people, my inherent perfectionism: it's a safe, more or less controllable environment; there is only so much I can do wrong there, after all.


The problem is, what to do about it now. Whether I'll find the strength and will to do something about it. How to find the person I used to be and who (I hope) still exists somewhere, more than just a lingering echo. During the last two or three years I've so talked myself out of believing I'm able to create, that there's anything within me worth expressing at all, I'm not sure at all I'll be able to (go back? go forward?) and be that person again.

I may dull my mind, myself, enough to make what I do now tolerable again; I could probably even find some kind of balance, perhaps peace. Isn't Buddhism all about not wanting things, because wanting is the cause of pain?


But still. This is who I am. Some things, apparently, do not change.
solitary_summer: (Default)




Sometimes privacy is necessary, sometimes I don't want to bother taking care how to exactly phrase things in order not to give a wrong or skewed impression. [Edit: On second, or third, thoughts, unlocked. ::shrug::]

Running before work helps relieve the tension, after 70 mins I'm pleasantly tired, the edge is taken off a little, I'm less energetic, but also less likely to be irritated and/or irritable. I can stand by (step back) with a certain amount of lethargy, nod & agree & let her do whatever she wants to do in whatever disorganised way she choses to. Can convince myself that I don't much care. Petty, certainly, but if your ambition is constantly to be cut short at a certain level, if your energy isn't wanted... if this is the way she wants it, then so be it.

I'm not happy with this, but for the moment it seems the better course of action, rather than constantly struggle with anger and frustration.


So I look at Aivazovsky's paintings, and dream...

Part of me feels (obliged to feel) slightly guilty about this recent unexpected bout of fangirlishness, but the greater part is just unabashedly happy, because it is so very good to feel positive, enthusiastic, alive about something again, even if it's something comparatively stupid or trivial. Tired as I am at the moment it's hard to recapture the emotion, but this afternoon I felt it acutely. Not dead inside. Alive
solitary_summer: (wizard (© clive barker))

Tired, for no very apparent reason; not so much the morning run (clear skies, magnificent sunrise), I guess, rather my lingering on-&-off annoyance with M., her disorganised, hectic way to start a million things at once, where ultimately everything, if it doesn't get lost in the totally unnecessary self-created stress & chaos, takes so much longer.

It's not my task to remind her to order books for customers - if she insists on being The Boss and the only one to order books, it is her responsibility, not mine, and I'm equally sick of having to make excuses because once again it took her ages to finally order a book, and of having to remind her again & again & again, it's not as if there are all that many orders. I tell her, I stick the notes where she cannot miss them, unless she purposefully ignores them... I don't get it. As I see it, we're a book-store, not her personal playground, and satisfied customers should come first, everything else is secondary. She can damn well re-arrange the order of her beloved medieval history books later.

And when you're in that kind of mood already, it's all kinds of ridiculously small details that irritate you out of all proportion... Who the fuck (except M.) puts books upside down on the shelf, so that you can read the titles on the spines more easily? Not customers who pull them out to look at them, that's for sure, and after a few days it's a total mess with no order whatsoever.

[/rant mode]

*sigh* I'm aware that I'm kind of anal about keeping things orderly & systematic at work; It doesn't take a psychologist to tell me that this is probably an attempt to make up for the mess the rest of my life is, to at least give me the feeling there are some things I can and do control. It's perfectly ridiculous too, considering the state my flat usually is in.

[Also, note to self, bring instant coffee to work. I never really woke up after lunch-break today.]


Finished Mauritius Command, which for once has a rather straight forward plot, all threads tied up neatly, and also quite loses the Austen-esque light tone - for the greater part action-driven, hard-edged and full of bloodily realistic battles, which makes for an interesting change of pace after the much more introspective HMS Surprise.

However, there are bits, especially in the beginning, that have my not-so-inner feminist struggle with the futile desire of wanting to smack O'Brian upside the head, much as I love the books otherwise; his female characters & his treatment of them... *shrug* it may be a personal quirk, but something there rubs me entirely the wrong way..

Still... *sigh* ongoing stupid fascination with ships, something I couldn't have cared less about a few weeks ago, and I'm really forcing myself not to delete the cd from the next amazon order just to get it earlier... there are other books that need reading, and yeah. A break is good. Moderation is good.


:: interest meme :: )
solitary_summer: (Default)

More frustrated and tired than I've been at any time during the last three weeks.

Not a good kind of tired, either.

Maybe I just miss the endorphins from running - between the weather, work, the horse and the need to occasionally sleep longer than until 6 am, no morning runs since Monday.

The greater part of the problem however is that I'm still having a hard time re-adjusting to M. Constantly having to restrain myself in minor or major ways, instead of just being able to go ahead and do things, if they need to be done. I had to work hard during her absence, but I had results to show (and be proud of) for my effort. I miss that satisfaction.

And this this friend-cum-boss thing, which I mostly tend to regard as one of the perks of the job, on the other hand sometimes unnecessarily complicates things in really annoying ways. Why is it so hard for her to simply let me do my work? I'm not trying to put her under any obligation, I'm not trying to make her feel guilty, she's perfectly free to just stand by and do nothing if she feels like it. Really. I'm not offended, I won't think she's lazy, that she's exploiting me, or whatever guilt trip she's putting herself through.

I don't mind manual work, I don't mind getting my hands dirty. Whatever issues she has in this respect (granted she's smaller than I, and I'm not particularly tall to begin with, so I can see that for her it's probably not much fun hauling heavy art books around), I don't have them. More often than not I actually enjoy that part of the job, because it helps me work off energy.

I always liked doing things with my hands, seeing the results of my work; I like being in touch with things, touching things. Seeing as an academic job is now pretty much out of the question, given the choice between some mind-numbing office-job or one that would force me to wear a fake pasted on smile and be nice to people I'd rather slap (as it is now, I have a lot of regular customers who are friendly and polite, and, as I see it, and compared to the job before this one, quite a lot of leeway in how I chose to treat them - there's still an element of choice, and naturalness.) and something more manual, I'd choose the latter.

I've told her, again and again, so why can't she get it into her head that I actually don't mind unpacking palettes, hauling them into the yard, the more physical stuff? I like it.

I like her too, but sometimes she drives me absolutely insane.
solitary_summer: (Default)

Oookay... feeling a little more composed now, as of mid-afternoon. The morning was still pretty very bad, I thoroughly dusted all the bookshelves just to avoid having to talk to anyone - or as much as is possible during the Christmas season. Wanting to hurt - hurt badly, insert gory fantasy of your choice - every single customer who asked me something.

I don't know why I'm so over-emotional recently, and in the worst way possible, too. I've been at a point where I'd have welcomed any emotion, but this isn't too pleasant either... This morning I wanted nothing so much as call my mother and whine about how I couldn't bear it any longer. 31 yrs. Pathetic.


But over-reaction and Christmas stress aside, I'll have to deal with the problem at the core of the whole drama, if/when(?) at one point I'm going to decide not to live from day to day only. This job isn't too unpleasant, but it has no perspective, none whatsoever. I'm not sure I'm willing to resign myself to or can face a future entirely lacking in intellectual challenges or personal satisfaction in one's job except of the most superficial kind.


But then again, what other choices do I have? And will I ever find it within myself to abandon my passivity and make myself care enough?


And I still have the urge to get very drunk...
solitary_summer: (dark)

I honestly don't know how all those active, energetic people manage.

When I come home form work (which is neither particularly hard or stressful most of the time, and the atmosphere & people are quite pleasant) I'm mentally and physically drained and anti-social to the extreme. Most of the time I just don't have energy left for anything or anyone; my brain feels like a dead weight, useless; I cannot be interesting, intellectual or poetic.

I tend to think it's the utter lack of perspective or intellectual challenge that's so mind-numbing. Then again it's maybe just my lack of self-discipline.

In either case, my respect for my parents or anyone who manages to raise kids (raise, not as in, put them in front of the tv, but actively do something with them.) while working a full-time job has rather risen recently. I certainly couldn't do it. I probably couldn't even maintain a relationship, so it's just as well I don't have one...

.:.:.:.:.


Cooking chocolate cream for my sister's birthday cake and not even permitting myself to lick the spoon is... hard. Masochistic even. But I really don't dare... And scales stopped at below 65 kilos yesterday, so I guess on some level it must be worth it...
solitary_summer: (Default)

Yesterday:

He. I rather enjoyed PotC. Not quite the usual action movie in historic trappings and never mind such pesky details as historical accuracy (even in the loosest possible sense of the term), which I've come to loathe.

Or anyway I was entertained enough not to be annoyed...

Though I rather suspect it's largely due to Johnny Depp's performance that the movie rises above the average. I'm not exactly a fan, but this was absolutely, hilariously brilliant. And I can so see the Disney executives having a fit over his interpretation of Jack Sparrow. Captain Jack Sparrow. :: smirk ::

The older I get, the more I find myself bored by drawn out action sequences, so on the whole I'd have been in favour of more acting, Depp & dialogue, less blowing things up, but on the balance it was still tolerable, never too boring or too sappy, and the story line with the curse gave the movie a bit of a 'Flying Dutchman' melancholy depth that kept it from becoming too trite, either.

Some very nice shots, and the animation of the skeleton crew (not to forget the monkey!) was amazing, especially that one scene where they are walking on the bottom of the sea.

Jack & Elizabeth on the island they get dumped on by the pirates. Lovely, and full of possibilities for her character. My inner cynic already rather doubts the future married happiness of Will & Elizabeth, she obviously being in love with pirate!Will, emphasis on pirate!

Loved the end - I have to say I didn't see it coming that Will would declare his love for Elizabeth and then proceed to go and sacrifice himself for Jack, despite having seen bits of the subsequent fight in a trailer on tv. ("You forget your place" "It's right here. Between you and Jack.") Slashiest. Moment. Ever. Except for the (IMO) lack of build up or follow up, but never mind. Not complaining.



However, I'm still not getting the Orlando Bloom craze, blond wig or no, but then I'm probably just too old for that. He's certainly rather pretty, but really not all that interesting...

.:@:.:@:.:@:.


I hate those company outings. Hate, especially given the little free time I have now. I only went for politeness sake, as it's a small company to begin with, and only three of us in our shop at the moment, out of who M* categorically refuses to attend such events and K* (the newbie) wanted to get to know people, and I couldn't very well leave her alone. So we had a guided tour through an exhibition on the history of theatre in Reichenau, which could have been interesting, except for our guide, who was, shall we say, less than inspiring; went up the Rax in a cable car, had lunch (not memorable) went for a short walk (i refuse to call it hike); returned home.

I hate being cooped up like that with people who for the most part I don't particularly care for. It makes me irritable and itching to just move - so basically I'm happy if there's any possibility at all to stretch one's legs. Except, not really. Now I don't consider myself a very sportive person, never been to a gym, but a somewhat agile snail could have overtaken most of those people, if it put some effort in it, and this really isn't exaggerating much. Half an hour, barely 100 meters up, whine, moan, gasp. I don't get it. It gave me a nasty shock when I discovered how unfit I was this summer, but even so I still managed to go up to 2.000+ m, 8-10 hrs., even if a little more out of breath than usual. So K* and I gave up trying to slow down for them and just went along...

Going back by bus... I usually rather like some of those people, at least when they're on their own, but I so don't need a giggly group of grown women amusing themselves bitching about other people. Not that I probably haven't done that myself at one time or the other, but there was a meanness and utter pointlessness to it that at that moment just disgusted me. At the risk of appearing anti-social and most likely having them gossip about me the moment I was out of listening range I returned to the front of the bus & chatted with K* about extremely random things, but at least the level of bitchiness was lower there.

(hypocrisy? probably.)

It was beautiful up on the mountain, though, and if the weather holds I might hike up there.

.:@:.:@:.:@:.


:: off in search of some PotC slash & possibly a Johnny Depp pirate desktop wallpaper... ::
solitary_summer: (Default)

I think I understand now why my father always refused to have anything personal in his office, while my mother had drawings there and other stuff my sister and I made. It's about not wanting to form too close and too personal a connection with something one feels very ambivalent about, to say the least. It struck me today that I don't want to make our kitchen at work prettier or more comfortable, don't want to invest any energy, because it would feel like another step towards resigning myself to a future there. In reality I'm more than half way there already, but those small token gestures of protest are important, it seems, even if they are mere self-indulgence and utterly pointless.

In a similar vein, when I fetched the car from my sister's workplace at the university and the bus passed the archaeological institute all the confused feelings of nostalgia, wasted chances, guilt, self-disgust and failure came crashing down, i could have cried, was actually swallowing back tears.


:: Sunday :: )


Also, on the plus side, I think I might finally be getting over over my chocolate addiction. I don't even have a Homer Simpson moment any more every time someone just mentions chocolate...
solitary_summer: (Default)

work is... dull. i can feel my mind slipping back into numbness after a brief interruption, a momentary widening of horizons...


did i make the wrong decision, take the easy way out? probably yes...

i hate my passivity, all the fears that are so much part of my life that often enough i don't even recognise them as such...

back to the start again.




[drop dead tired. got up at 6 am, took ch*'s horse out for a 1 1/2 hr. ride, got home, showered, fetched my glasses from the optician (i'm seriously wondering how the guy from the hotel will react when i tell him that one lens cost € 146.-), biked to work. at 3 pm the day felt like it'd been going on forever....]

solitary_summer: (Default)

day before yesterday's dilemma

i more or less committed myself to working almost full time starting july. weirdly enough while i've been angsting & whining about this decision and its implications for months, aside from a momentary stab of panic and a frantic call to my sister, what i felt was mostly a vague sort of relief, and i can't decide if that's good, bad, or very, very scary. i won't exmatriculate yet, but i guess i'm just easing myself out... it doesn't feel like a life sentence, not a defeat or degrading, despite myself having said exactly that to g. only the night before. more like a beginning, maybe something of a different perspective now i can at least stop going over the same issues again and again for a while. an obstacle i kept throwing myself against suddenly removed, leaving me free to notice and pursue different directions. (though it's really quite likely this feeling won't last) it's not what i wanted or dreamed, but i just caught myself thinking i'd be nice having an apartment just a little larger when i'll have to start looking for one next year. or maybe a tv.

it's just that i'd feel a lot more comfortable if i could be surer about the reasons behind this decision... did some things people said to me recently help put my thoughts in a better and more objective perspective, or was i only too ready to accept any pretext available for not having to face challenges? avoidance has always been my fault.




yesterday's dilemma.

think before you act, woman. god damn it.
(ex-?) co worker missing in action, er, italy, calls, vaguely asking how things are going, obviously checking out whether there's a chance of her being re-hired when she returns. and oops!! realisation sets in. maybe i shouldn't have mentioned my wish to work more to the boss yet. true, m. already had told him, informally, true, i said, conditionally, depending on whether e. would return and that i didn't want to hurt her chances... but still... bad. inconsiderate. i ought to have taken into consideration that he'd had complaints about her before, and my offer might have effectively ruined her chances to get re-hired.
i'm not a person naturally given to intrigue or mobbing (or so i'd like to believe), so i guess it speaks volumes about my level of self-centredness that until then my main concern was the consequences this decision would have for my life.

of course even while m. and i with all he best intentions talked her into staying a 2nd month, the final decision was hers and given the choice she risked loosing her job and taking the chance whether he'd re-hire her or not, but that doesn't make what i did any less ethically reprehensible. that there wasn't any bad intent behind it, just a momentary panic and a lot of thoughtlessness isn't an excuse. nor is that neither m. nor i knew for sure whether she'd even want to come back at all...

in fact it's rather scary to observe the brain kicking into overdrive trying to justify my actions to myself.

the worst thing, that makes those displays of qualms pointless and me a hypocrite is that deep down i do want it, now that i'd finally made the decision for myself. if i, personally, had to decide, i'd probably say ok, if it's her or me, i take the offer back, re-hire her, but if the decision were comfortably taken out of my hands... and i fear it already is, more or less... sucks. i thought i was a better person than that....


today.

it's really too hot for anything. too hot to work, especially.

solitary_summer: (Default)

can i kill the piano playing person? now? please?
10pm, 9am... they sure are dedicated.

crawled out of bed, biked to the market to get my weekly ration of apples.. there's a row of locust trees in flower along one road, and the scent's incredible... overpowering, almost too sweet, almost out of place on a sunny may morning right here in the city. somehow to me it's a scent better suited to the night...

my bike's front tyre is flat. :: sigh :: at least i can get the lights fixed at the same time... long overdue, too.

* * *


yesterday: there are those days at work when there isn't much to do, time has ground to a standstill and 8hrs seem like eternity. a breeze outside, but the air hot and never stirring inside, and all you're feeling is trapped.
when i'm alone i can at least be quietly depressed & read a book, when i'm with my boss or any of the other co-workers i can bitch, snark & whine, maybe go for a walk, leave earlier, but paula i don't know well enough, (& am not sure i'd like even if i did; it's not entirely her fault, it's just that we have nothing whatsoever in common and that she's too young and optimistic to understand my sense of resignation and desperation), have to be polite and talk to her, even if i have no idea what about. 20 can be so young sometimes...

late in the afternoon the heat finally broke with a bit of a thunderstorm and some rain, but nothing really satisfactory. stepped out to stand in the rain only to feel just a bit alive, connected.

for mother's day Kenzo have covered a whole square near my workplace with red paper poppy flowers to be picked today... when i biked home there were puddles of red collecting among the rain slicked cobble stones...





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solitary_summer

March 2013

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