Monday (but it feels like Friday)
I've been spending most of this morning idling about from my office to the other offices, somehow restless, but still with no desire whatsoever to work. Luckily I haven't got many things to do, or I'd be in trouble. Boss has just called and he's in a bad mood for a change, which annoys me immensely, and after the weekend that has just ended I am not exactly in a good mood either.
I started on Friday night, when it rained, and I forced myself to go to the band if only to say hello to a friend who's just back from her holidays. The rehearsals were boring, I played incredibly bad because my mind kept on wandering away from the music, I did speak too much and never with anything to say, really, so I cursed myself thousands of times for opening my mouth for nothing. After rehearsals we spent some 5 minutes chatting vaguely and then left, and I was home earlier than Cinderella, and feeling bad.
Saturday opened with the promise of a good morning at the market, a cappuccino (which is what I long for on my Saturdays), a couple of things I wanted to buy, the sun shining on the lake and my mind free from thoughts.
Instead, first of all I had a massive argument with my mum over timings and priorities, so I ended up crying and driving to the market at 9 o'clock, and after parking I walked to the square until I heard a claxon beeping: it was mum calling for my attention to wait for her; she reached me, we went to the market where she only wanted to change a pair of trousers she had bought for my brother, and then she sort of abandoned me to rush back home for no apparent reason. I walked for another hour just because I didn't want to go home straight away but intended to enjoy my Saturday nonetheless, I bought two books, couldn't have my cappuccino because I was definitely not in the mood, and couldn't either stop sad thoughts from springing out.
I managed to spend a decent afternoon only because I was alone in the house, so I could run, sit outside in the sun and silence, read, and in the evening I watched tv and switched off my mind for a couple of hours; when I went to bed I wasn't feeling any better.
Sunday, I confess, felt slightly better. And all the run, the cross-stitch, the sun and the relax until 8 o'clock, and Dr House whom I love.
And then I'm in bed, thinking about today, knowing that my boss will be angry when he calls me, knowing that there will be little that I will do right and in any case I will not get any reward from it nor any kind of satisfaction, and the thought that I am not doing what I like. This is simply awful.
It's Monday and I'm not too high. I feel like I haven't slept for weeks, and I cannot wait for the weekend - which includes a boring and (quite certainly) badly-performed concert in a place with no car-park, where I will feel obliged to go and help and still will not feel like it at all, and as soon as it ends I will rush home and plan not to go to the rehearsals the week after, except then I will actually go because we will start playing the songs for the Christmas concert at last so at least I will get to play something new. I remember what this feeling is: I am annoyed! Annoyed because my musical skills are headed towards the gutter and they are only one of the things that have taken that direction, so it's like I'm fighting to save too many things with my two little hands (an episode of "Tom and Jerry" suddenly pops in my mind, the one when Tom must keep the house clean or he will be thrown out, and Jerry keeps throwing things at him, like a dozen eggs, and he juggles with them and does his best to catch them but in the end they all crash on the floor..with an iron, or such, falling traight onto his face. Yeah, that's the feeling. Except that I'm still juggling).
In the meantime I have downloaded most of the things I will need to study during this year, and I have read thoroughly what I need to know when I go the meeting at university next year to convince those guys that yes, I am the right person. Then I calculated, two years to study and pass all the exams, which means lots of days off work which I hope I can manage somehow, but I guess I will, I'm a good organizer, and then if all goes well by November 2009 I am graduated and can look around for THE job. Which means a lot of luck and patience. I will already be 31. And I will have a lot of money too, since I will not have that mortgage we were talking of up to some weeks ago.
I only wonder if I can resist. I know what I am like, I mean, once the object of my research is clear, I cannot wait to reach it, and everything becomes meaningless and boring, annoying, even, because it stands in the way.
Patience.
I guess I will need to improve my meditation skills.
I started on Friday night, when it rained, and I forced myself to go to the band if only to say hello to a friend who's just back from her holidays. The rehearsals were boring, I played incredibly bad because my mind kept on wandering away from the music, I did speak too much and never with anything to say, really, so I cursed myself thousands of times for opening my mouth for nothing. After rehearsals we spent some 5 minutes chatting vaguely and then left, and I was home earlier than Cinderella, and feeling bad.
Saturday opened with the promise of a good morning at the market, a cappuccino (which is what I long for on my Saturdays), a couple of things I wanted to buy, the sun shining on the lake and my mind free from thoughts.
Instead, first of all I had a massive argument with my mum over timings and priorities, so I ended up crying and driving to the market at 9 o'clock, and after parking I walked to the square until I heard a claxon beeping: it was mum calling for my attention to wait for her; she reached me, we went to the market where she only wanted to change a pair of trousers she had bought for my brother, and then she sort of abandoned me to rush back home for no apparent reason. I walked for another hour just because I didn't want to go home straight away but intended to enjoy my Saturday nonetheless, I bought two books, couldn't have my cappuccino because I was definitely not in the mood, and couldn't either stop sad thoughts from springing out.
I managed to spend a decent afternoon only because I was alone in the house, so I could run, sit outside in the sun and silence, read, and in the evening I watched tv and switched off my mind for a couple of hours; when I went to bed I wasn't feeling any better.
Sunday, I confess, felt slightly better. And all the run, the cross-stitch, the sun and the relax until 8 o'clock, and Dr House whom I love.
And then I'm in bed, thinking about today, knowing that my boss will be angry when he calls me, knowing that there will be little that I will do right and in any case I will not get any reward from it nor any kind of satisfaction, and the thought that I am not doing what I like. This is simply awful.
It's Monday and I'm not too high. I feel like I haven't slept for weeks, and I cannot wait for the weekend - which includes a boring and (quite certainly) badly-performed concert in a place with no car-park, where I will feel obliged to go and help and still will not feel like it at all, and as soon as it ends I will rush home and plan not to go to the rehearsals the week after, except then I will actually go because we will start playing the songs for the Christmas concert at last so at least I will get to play something new. I remember what this feeling is: I am annoyed! Annoyed because my musical skills are headed towards the gutter and they are only one of the things that have taken that direction, so it's like I'm fighting to save too many things with my two little hands (an episode of "Tom and Jerry" suddenly pops in my mind, the one when Tom must keep the house clean or he will be thrown out, and Jerry keeps throwing things at him, like a dozen eggs, and he juggles with them and does his best to catch them but in the end they all crash on the floor..with an iron, or such, falling traight onto his face. Yeah, that's the feeling. Except that I'm still juggling).
In the meantime I have downloaded most of the things I will need to study during this year, and I have read thoroughly what I need to know when I go the meeting at university next year to convince those guys that yes, I am the right person. Then I calculated, two years to study and pass all the exams, which means lots of days off work which I hope I can manage somehow, but I guess I will, I'm a good organizer, and then if all goes well by November 2009 I am graduated and can look around for THE job. Which means a lot of luck and patience. I will already be 31. And I will have a lot of money too, since I will not have that mortgage we were talking of up to some weeks ago.
I only wonder if I can resist. I know what I am like, I mean, once the object of my research is clear, I cannot wait to reach it, and everything becomes meaningless and boring, annoying, even, because it stands in the way.
Patience.
I guess I will need to improve my meditation skills.
posted by Peggy @ 2:31 PM
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