So...let's sum things up

Update. Although I don’t feel much like writing. But I keep on thinking that it can only be good for me.
I am very, very, very depressed. I’ve forced myself to go to the gym, and I have seen a couple of friends too, plus I am giving lessons of English now, and all this is helping.
No, I’m not down for the job: actually, I am very calm about it, because I feel and I am convinced that it is the best choice.
I am seeing this shrink now, and what happens now is that instead of having flying thoughts that bring me down every now and then, I have constant thoughts that bring me to tears and push me down to the bottom, where the only thing I seem able to do is dig and dig. Mother is very worried and I am only trying to climb up.
The following things don’t really help:
- seeing library friend who’s still sad about me not going to her wedding; plus, while we were there, mother came to pick me up and go home together, and she looked at the pictures of friend’s wedding, and so found out that I had not gone to the wedding; all this led to me saying that I have been depressed for quite a while, making her even more worried and sad at the thought that I have been feeling this bad without her knowing so that she could never help me;- seeing the shrink and having this constant bad feeling that I should be a grown-up person whereas I probably look like a mummy’s daughter because of my attachment to her; it’s true, I should leave and set free. But still, it hurts to think that I am staying here out of some selfish unconscious reason like the need to be needed, as shrink said yesterday. Anyway, I know I should leave. That is why I have left my job, right? Because I need to be free and find my way, wherever and whatever that is.
- Apparently the way towards happiness is marked with depressing thoughts and anguishing thoughts too. So I think and think and think, and nothing makes me feel better. It is also a vicious circle, because I don’t feel like going out or see people, but this makes me spend a lot of time with mum, and things get even harder.

One of the things that made me think after seeing the shrink was her question of my femininity (which obviously – and banally, I must say – led to a question on my sexuality): so ok, I am not a constant girlie girl. I don’t wear make-up, I don’t wear skirts often, I don’t do anything with my hair, and now when I think of the reasons I can simply picture the expression that the shrink would have on her face: you know, the face of “yeah, right, as if I can buy that”. But honestly, let’s consider it:
I don’t make up because: I touch my face, especially my eyes, continuously. I rub my eyes, and rub my cheeks, and lick my lips on a constant basis; I scratch my forehead and when I am nervous I rub it so much that it becomes red in a minute. Plus, I am a sport person, you know! After the office I jump on the treadmill for hours, or spend hours at the gym and it’s no yoga, folks! I couldn’t be bothered to waste ten minutes on cleansing and rubbing off the make-up from my face, come on! I am too practical! But ok, I could care a little more when I go out with friends, like on Saturday night or at the band. Only, if I am at the band I am very laid-back, and so am I when I go out for a drink or something; I mean, I’m in no hunt. And I always think that beauty does not lie in a painted face.
I don’t wear sexy clothes because it is not my normal attitude. For one, I am not one who would go to the office in a mini skirt or transparent shirt..come on! Two, being so uncomfortable with my body I’d rather wear things that make me feel comfortable, you know? And the same thing applies to when I go shopping, say, and to the band: I’m going there to play, not to pull! However, when I go out on Saturday nights I do wear “nicer” stuff, but only if I feel well with myself.
I don’t do anything with my hair because I am useless. That’s it. I have tried thousand of times, but it’s just not my field, and my hair refuses to be tamed. The pony tail, fair; some sort of chignon, ok; straighten it when I am really up for wasting more than five minutes on it, fine. But there is no way I can do anything more than that. Don’t bother me now!

So all in all, the matter doesn’t lie in my possible lack of femininity, but in my being uncomfortable with my body: when I feel fine, and less fat than usual, I like to dress properly, and I even make up my face (only to spend the following two or three hours with the constant reminder that I cannot touch my face…).
The shrink annoyed me a few times during the session, and since it is not the first time she did it, I started to think that maybe it is her way to prompt thoughts over one self. She did really annoy me when she asked me if I’ve ever thought about being gay. I was waiting for that question, knowing that if we were investigating over my bad relationship with people we would talk about my family and my sexuality, so after the question on femininity I am surprised she did not ask me straight away about my tendency. However when I said that no, I have never considered the idea of being gay, she replied that I should think about it, and then went on a banal speech on how it is easier for men to realise their homosexuality because of the physical reactions, and bla bla bla. I was not fast enough to reply: “Listen, lady: I have spent a total of three years and a half being in love with the same person: male. I have chosen university not to be too far from him (and from my friends, but that’s another story); I have moved to England to get over him, when I realised that there was no hope and never had been. While in England, I half fell in love with another man and had a quick crush on two more. And after that, I’ve had crushes on three more people – men, one of which was no longer than 6 months ago. I know, it doesn’t mean anything. But still, there’s some sort of electricity I feel…and it happens only with men. Case closed”.
It annoys me to being forced to talk about sex, because I don’t really think you can bring everything down to that. And since I know my personal history, I believe that the equation goes like this:
Fatty child being made fun of since 5 = bad feeling with body = uncomfortable feeling with myself and as a consequence with the other people.
I see no sex around in this, do you?

Anyway. Case closed, as I said. The next session at the shrink involves some sort of Monopolis game, called “the game of transformation”, and I am curious about it. I would also like to do that Reiki session we have out off because she preferred to continue with our chat. But then, I think, I will end. I mean, I am not going to give up. I only think that most of my problems of depression come from having made the wrong choices; but the tiny giant step of leaving my job and start thinking about myself, with a free mind and no worries about car instalments or money for the house, well, that’s all I had to do. And so, I give myself another two or three sessions with the shrink, and then I will say goodbye.
In the meantime, I already have three people for my lessons, and plans to get to teaching, if I can and am lucky enough. But there is no hurry. I have also plans of getting down to serious writing, now that I have the time, and think about my future with a calmer mind, and no hurry to find whatever job I can only because I have stuff to pay. And this, folks, is an incredibly good feeling.

So, see? Things are not to bad all in all. I mean, I swift from depression to optimism as usual, but I have the time to recover, and above all, I have a peace of mind I have lacked for so long I had almost forgotten what it felt like. This can’t be bad.

I am leaving for Trieste tomorrow morning, for a long weekend with a couple of friends. And I am going to the band tonight. And I am running today, after the 8.30 lesson.
And when I am back from Trieste it will be May, and the beginning of a calm, careful, peaceful planning of my future.

Things look bright today, and I plan to keep them this way.

Find me!

If my life was not complicated enough, and if it wasn’t already leading me headlong towards a nervous breakdown…this morning I resigned from my job.
I don’t really feel like going into the details of what my boss’s wife and I said in the meeting room, and all my tears, because I am in a very emotional time and everything ignites my eyes and the tears flow down. It was like she was reading in my mind, every single word: I know I am a bit of an open book, but I didn’t think I was that much. Then again, what did I expect? That people wouldn’t see my red eyes after I had been crying in the bathroom?
After that, I had to go around the offices and say goodbye, with lots more tears with everybody; the Epg even took me to the coffee room and tried to make me change my mind, and I must say she was very sweet and concerned, ok, I take my hat off to that. I don’t know what went erong with us, because the last ten minutes together were good, and it made me think that we hadn’t given each other a chance to understand the situation from both sides. Oh, well. But she was nice to me, especially since all I remember was me crying and crying and crying, almost breathless, and repeating that everything was wrong, that every thing I have ever done is wrong. Writing these words here make me cry again.
Crying has been the main activity of the day, from some time before 9 am till now, when it’s almost 10.30 pm. In between I managed to do some chores, help mum with the wardrobes (change of the season, more than spring it feels like summer), mindlessly watch “Law & Order – SVU”, and do some work for our second (or should I say, mum’s second and now my main) job.
My eyes are sore, and my eyelids are even more sore; I’ve used a thousand tissues to wipe the tears away, and I now that I will need more.
Things feel terrible. I came home at 11.30 am this morning, somehow relieved, because I am convinced that this is the best thing I could do, yet it felt so bad on me that I cried all the way home, and more as I was laying the table, and washing the breakfast dishes, bent on the kitchen sink with my hands covered in coffee powder and soap, and I cried so much when mum came back home: I couldn’t stop. All in all, I don’t think I am exaggerating when I say that I cried for more than 6 hours. And when I think of how I feel, the tears are back; and that is why I am doing lots of physical things like the chores, and tomorrow I have filled my morning with activities, so that I can take my mind off this awful feeling of emptiness.
I am in a cage and I want to get out: I think this is just my first, tiny, scary step to do what is needed to be free.
Mum understood and helped me again. Jesus, all I do is giving worries to people, especially to my mum. I must stop thinking depressed thoughts or I will start crying again. Still, when I look at the past 10 years, all I see is a twisted line of mistakes and pathetic ways to make myself believe that things could be fixed. Oh, god, ten years wasted, and here I am crying on the remains. I feel so old.
Mum held me and caressed me when all I could do was cry and feel desperate; she said that now I will take some time off, and think of myself, and get better. My mind is breaking into pieces, and I am allowed to take this time to heal and be myself again.
Because the person who is writing these lines, who has been writing for the past 9 months, who has lived and breathed and talked and thought, this is not me.
This is not me, understand? And I want my old me back. My old me, the cheerful, sunny, noisy girl, who sings and jumps around, who is a helpless optimistic, who sees the bright side of things, who likes everything and is generally serene, peaceful.
This is not me. Let me work on it and dig, until I can find again the person that I used to be. Then watch out.

…………………………………………….

Before this (huge and tiny) revolution in my life, I managed to spend a beautiful weekend, with a whole morning and half afternoon walking and walking up an island to a sanctuary, looking down at the lake all around, eating a delicious sandwich once on the top (which is the best feeling, to sit down after two hours of continuous walk and have a ham sandwich with long sips of cool water, and the silence of the trees and the far, far sound of the lake down under). I love walking. I love walking in the mountain and along the lake. I love this weather and the freedom I can feel when the sun wraps me with the wind from the lake, and all I can hear is the sound of water and leaves.
In the evening we were at the theatre, for a long yet much enjoyable comedy of art (Italian work of the 18th century, one of my very favourite genres): very very funny, I wish they did these things more often. Although possibly not on the evening after a super long walking trip to a sanctuary on the top of a mountain (600 m on sea level) and before a wake-up call set at 7 o’clock…
Because on Sunday, instead of staying at home as planned, I embarked with some friends on a musical journey to the last day of a music contest for wind and brass bands, in a beautiful town quite far from here; the journey there and back was in a friend’s car, a quiet guy I have always liked and with whom I spent a nice day, together with Chorus Friend and some other people of the band: we listened to these incredible bands and orchestras, we had a fab lunch together, a walk by the lake, we listened to more bands and then went back home, only to stop one more time for a lovely dinner and more chatting over music and culture and food and cinema. I came home definitely tired and only a little relaxed, going to nervous: I had spent the day talking to Chorus Friend about my situation at work, and trying to understand what the best move would be, which has been the main topic of most of my conversations for these months (quite clearly).
Sometimes I think that the worst part of this new chapter of my life will be the repeated question that will come from all the people who will know my situation: “so what are you doing/going to do now?”. And it makes me nervous to think of an answer, because I don’t have any: I want to work on my shattered and tired mind (and soul, if I were a believer), and find my old me, be a normal cheerful person again. Top priority.
Then I will have a lot of time to study a new action plan, without the anxiety of where I am and the things that I have to do and that I don’t like doing, without having my mind wandering out of the window and into another dimension, a dimension where I am happier and more free and more satisfied.
I don’t know. Some of what I am writing is nonsense, but what I mean is: I have the chance to find my way with a little peace of mind, and the support of my family.
Which leads me to the very last subject of the day: father and I are back to talking, and although I haven’t forgiven a single thing of what he’s done, for the good of the family I have decided that it’s the best thing to do. We haven’t told him of my news yet, and I was thinking of how to tell him and when. Tomorrow, I guess, when I am calmer and have already sorted a few things out. I am not hopeless, after all, and I am confident that this is the best choice I could take.

My music player is playing random music, which is what I love, because it is a continuous surprise; more over, my computer seems to know what I need, so I have listened to the right songs all the way to the end of this page. Now to conclude, the main title from “Everwood”, which makes me think of the beautiful last episode: a happy end is what I need.

Going really bad

Well, well…Oh, boy, can we be let alone for more than a minute? … Nothing’s worse than a nervous boss who is leaving for another business trip in two days and wants to have everything settled before that time. And by “everything” I mean “every single email we have received from January 2000 to today, more or less”.
To make things worse, the Epg is still making me feel like a student who has been caught on a test without studying. Actually, worse than that: she makes me feel as if she had told me to study chapter 3 and then she asks me about chapter 12. And there is nothing I can do about it! I can only feel weak, and small, and helpless, and hopeless, and the more I try, the more mistakes I make. I’ve said this before.
It doesn’t help that we have no defined tasks, so I begin to do something and then I find out that she is working on it too, and with more information than me. And more confidence. Because she’s been doing it for 12 years, as she never forgets to remind us (two or three times a day too, in case we were not paying attention the first time).
When these things happen (like she finds a mistake I had not seen, although most of the times it is a small detail, like a date or a missing letter) my only reaction is to shut whatever I was working on, double-click on the Internet icon and wander about any page I can think of. Or write here. Or lock myself in the bathroom and cry when I am really feeling bad. Occasionally my second impulse (after dropping whatever activity I was onto) is to go get a hot chocolate from the machine; then I think better of it. Most of the times I look out of the window and think I could just quit, find another occupation, but what? So I am back to thinking that I should leave. And what for, I ask myself? It would be just my luck to find a job with another set of colleagues like these. And I am getting old. And my cv is not very good after all, so nobody would pick me.

I wanted to start writing the new chapter of the Bookclub (because I am finally back to serious reading with a wonderful book, which I plan to finish over the weekend because I’m busy tonight and tomorrow), but things are going so bad that I think I’ll go cry to the bathroom for then next half hour. Productive person, am I not?

Easter weekend, thoughts, iron deficiency

I’m not really in a writing mood these days, in spite of dreaming (I mean, dreaming at night) of pages and pages being typed on my laptop. Probably when I wake up all this night-writing has exhausted me and I don’t feel like doing some more in reality?
I’m just back to work after an Easter weekend made of long, long, long walks, chats, and relax: I watched King Kong and Shrek 2 (three times!), read a lot, enjoyed the sunshine, went to an island in the middle of the lake (packed with people, the island was! Like the whole valley decided to spend the day there, and can you blame them?), slept slept slept.
I woke up in the middle of the night (bleeding 2.20 a.m.!!! Insomnia at its worst!) with a blinding headache last night, and the consequences are the usual: I’m now tired, would rather spend the day in my bed, cannot think that it’s only the beginning of the week and that tonight I have two whole hours of training (and since I haven’t kept up with my running routine for the past week, I also have to catch up with it..brilliant).
I am also in a thoughtful mood because of my latest decisions and what has come with them: people congratulating on my choice, seeing as I was not happy at all here and knowing that leaving is definitely for the best of me; people asking what am I leaving for, and me replying that I have absolutely no idea but at least I will feel better there (I guess?); people asking when I am going to leave, and me procrastinating, saying that maybe it will be September, but if I can resist and get to save a little more money then it will be January or February 2008. So I can have some money to give the parents for the house, have a little more for myself to settle down in the beginning, and maybe even a better focus on what to do. Also, the hope remains that I can find a way out someway else, like going for the part-time job and study by myself, like finding a job for evening classes which would make me happier (always liked teaching adults), like finding a millionaire and marry him and have a lot of children (yeah, right!).
So I told mum to accept that offer from Sky and buy us a year of movies. My books are on the way and I expect to have a busy spring and summer studying and generally being busy (mentally) on my favourite subjects. On the other hand I don’t expect to be offered any of the jobs I have applied for. So I’ll give myself some more nasty time in this office and save money.
News on the house that will be, the final amount of money that should go in the original project is a hell of a lot, so the parents have decided to change plans and just make some works, to fix what’s wrong in the original two-floor house (new windows, new kitchen, plumbing and electrical system, and the outside stuff, garden and patio and all); plus, the third floor will eventually become a real apartment, and it should be mine. So it seems, but these are things to be settled too. I don’t know. I keep on saying that whatever they do is fine for me, because I keep on thinking that I will leave this place, soon or late, so brother can have the attic floor if he wants. Then I look at me and think “where do you think you’re going, useless old girl?”, and I sink and wait for the evening or the weekend to feel better.
News on the mental side: I am soon seeing a specialist for this little problem of mine (the depression, that is. I know you were all thinking of schizophrenia!). More to come on the subject.
What else?
Well, I guess I should conclude on a bright side: it’s payday this week! Technically the payslip should arrive today, but it’s never on time, so we trust it will be delivered by Thursday. Anyway. What matters is that the money arrives, right?
And I am still thinking about summer vacations and what to do, since my travelling streak is still low. Lazy girl.

******************************************************************************

A decent sleep last night, after a good work out with lots of stretching for my poor shoulder, and an hour of reading. It is now officially announced that I am over with the S&H addition!
However, the evening was not very enjoyable after all, because I came back from the gym and found mum on the sofa playing sudoku and saying that she was not happy because of the following reasons:

- I had promised I would see a dietician and take care of my iron deficiency and I haven’t yet (and a year has passed, and the blood donors’ association has crossed my name out of the list – see later for the details);
- I am worrying her for my depressive mood and generally unsatisfied/autistic attitude (like the need to run no matter what, like choosing to stay at home instead of seeing some friend, like having these little obsessions about movies and stuff)
- The works for the house are too expensive, as said before, and now father says that it may not be convenient to have the attic floor because who knows when we get all the permits to use it as a house (long story, will spare you from that), so now the confusion is higher over what to do, how to do it, who’s to blame for all (architect friend angry because he’s been working on the project for three months and now we have to use only a bit of it, brother – and parents – generally angry because architect friend should have told us the estimated prize of all and instead he kept some 100.000 euro under the actual prize, mum disappointed because she doesn’t want anybody angry or sad and wishes she had never decided to do any work at all on the bloody house.

As a result of the latter, she spent some half hour talking to father about the cost of this and the cost of that, until brother called asking for something regarding the taxes (which also reminded me that it’s tax month and I haven’t prepared my declaration yet…brilliant), in a hurry as usual because apparently tomorrow is the deadline for the presentation of the documents or something like that.
What a nice evening.

In the end I drank my coffee and read for a couple of hours, then sank into sleep only to wake up half confused (I was dreaming of the gigantic spider I had to kill the night before in parents’ bedroom) and with the familiar tinge of desperation at the thought of seeing Epg today (yesterday she spared me from her presence).
So I keep on thinking: to leave or not to leave? Should I hope to be called for some of the jobs I have applied last week? Or should I get the subscription for Sky Cinema and be merry with my movies, my books and my mum (I sound like a child, folks, but sad as it is, I have a lot of very good friends whom I love to death, but I couldn’t live without my mum)
And I keep on thinking that a list would do good, only when I start it all I come down with is:

Pros (of being here):
My mum and the general comfort of living with her
The band (although not all the time)

Cons:
My job and all that comes with it
The generally bad situation at home with this continuous confusion about the works, together with the undeletable feeling that nothing is ever going to be sorted out, not in a million times
No possibility to change, improve, have some satisfaction anywhere

There isn’t much to say about this, is there?

Newsflash: in two weeks it is bank holiday here, and it happens to be on Wednesday. This is cool enough: a day off in the middle of the week; bless. More over, the Epg is talking about asking for Thursday and Friday off, which is even better news. Then we would be back on Monday 30th, and have another bank holiday (May 1st); still supacool, two days off in two weeks. I love these months. And to top this off, Epg is thinking about taking the whole week off, from Wednesday 25th to Wednesday 2nd. How cool is that: I can breath for a whole week.

And now, for something completely different:
How the blood donors’ association told me to xxxx off.

Prologue: my blood type is quite rare. Or so they say anyway (I’m AB negative, typical of eastern Europe, I am told. Have my parents got something to tell me…).
I think: ok, it seems like a good idea to become a blood donor, especially since my type is so uncommon. So off to the association I go. And register with them. And go for the first analysis.
Now, I am a healthy person, I eat well, do a lot of sport, don’t smoke, don’t drink, don’t take drugs, have no tattoos and my ears were pierced more than 10 years ago. Nothing can go wrong.
Results come back to me a week later: iron deficiency, cannot donate blood, am recommended a visit to my gp and some iron intake. I talk to my doctor and decide against any supplements because I can’t be bothered.
Three months later I am back to the lab, and a week later guess what: I am suspended again, and recommended etc etc…Ok, off to the doctor I go and then straight to the supplements’ shelf.
Three months (and lots of supplements) later I am back to the lab.
A week later I am called for the donation: I skip work and happily go to the lab and you know what? I can only donate plasma! Which means a terrifying procedure of: sucking my blood out, separating blood from plasma, injecting my blood in. Terrific morning! A happy couple of hours and nothing to read! And bad music from the radio in the lab! And lots of people looking suspiciously at me (why???)! At the end of it all, more blood is demanded for a general test to see that everything is fine.
And…..
A week later I am suspended again!!!
Ok, no more implements from now, who cares, I think.
But.
Three months later they call me again, and I tell them that I’d rather not have them spend money over tests where the obvious result would be my lack of iron and my suspension. They say “no problem, come over, it’s ok”, and so I go.
Two days later I receive a phone call from one of the doctors:

- Hello, this is doc from the lab!
(me, in my mind: “Great. I am probably going to die or they found some weird disease”)
- So, the results have come back today, and I hope you won’t take this too bad, but the iron is still at 3.
(me, in my mind: “Great! Last time it was down at 2! I’ve improved!” – Note from the author: minimum value for an adult: 5)
- So, what I wanted to say is, we have thought that it would be better to stop bothering you with requests of tests, because you know, even if your values improved…by the way, are you very thin?
(me, in my mind: “Yeah, right! I wish!”) – Uhm, no, not really.
- I see. Do you do a lot of sport?
- Actually yes, I run 5 miles almost every day, I go to the gym, and all that jazz. And no, I don’t eat meat very often: you know, the Mediterranean diet? Lots of cereals, vegetables, fruit, some fish…granted to live for 237 years?
- Oh, yes, I see. Well, you see, you should really change your habits if you wanted to get that iron back. Or you should live on supplements. And in any case, if you ever got the correct value of iron, what do you think we would do, we would let you keep it! For your own good!
(me, in my mind: “Right…so I should eat red meat four times a day and stop exercising, hu? And how about getting to drink a bottle of red wine on a daily basis, for the sake of my iron intake and absorption?”) - Uh-hu, I understand.
- So, you see, I’m sorry, but what can we do, just don’t take it too bad, ok, it’s for you that we are doing this, so, you know, I mean we want you to keep your iron and feel well!
- Yeah, ok, I understand. Don’t worry, I expected it, it’s fine. Thank you.
- Oh, ok, then! Bye!

Thus ends my story (and my contribution) to the magical world of blood donors.

In a mood again

Just a quick update..

I have decided that it's about time I left. Find something better which is not likely to be found here, in our small valley that never grows and never changes, and when it does, it is always for the worst. There is nothing for me here. Ive just got to leave.
Telling my mum was a very emotional moment because I realised how terrible this choice is. I feel I have more chances if I leave, and yet leaving her here makes me feel so bad.
It didn't help that she came home all happy with an offer she was going to accept for Sky. You know: movies and the like, and evenings together and me all happy to watch my favourite movies and studying.

I have called in sick at work today and have just sent about 10 cv's between yesterday and today. I feel terrible and I would like to have an option, say a decent job that doesn't make me cry and fill me with anxiety all day, but lets me here where my mum is. Who is the only person worth living for,and she is giving and has given so much to us and I don't want to leave her here like this.
I must think about things now. It is so bloody difficult.

I'll go do some chores now, take my mind off clogging desperation and onto serious plans that could make things better for all.
Sounds kinda impossible, I'm afraid.
Damn, what have I done to deserve this.

One more thing for the weekend (March, 31 - April, 1)

Well…I would have another long update, since things at home have changed, are changing, god knows what is exactly going on, but so help me if we can have a normal, ordinary, banal, boring week, hu?
I have finished all the episodes of my beloved on a tired Friday night after general rehearsals at the band, after a terrible week at work, tiresome indeed, with little to do and even less energy to do it: the only energy I’ve had was for the gym, and for the intense work out I’m going through for the sake of feeling well and be so tired at the end of it that I come home and I sink into the coma. However, I did have a larger social life this week, with a cinema meeting on Wednesday night (Lars Von Trier’s The big boss, useless, but a typical Von Trier) and another cinema meeting on Thursday night (Volver, at last, so beautiful-beautiful-beautiful. Penelope Cruz is useless in American cinema, only Almodovar can make something of her talent. What a wonderful movie, and how moving).
I have also spent a strange, confused, emotional Saturday, of which I will write later on, when I have sorted some things out. Because there are decisions to make, about the house, about my job, about my life.

Decision number one, being the least important, is a tattoo I am going to have made. I know, I know: crazy, childish. But still a tattoo will be. Update to come.

Decision number two is something I have to work on this week, hopefully I won’t have too much work to do and internet will help me get the info I need. A major move is ahead of me, and I guess that there will an official announcement for my friends soon, who already know something because on Friday I’ve let something slip, but they know me and they’ve been expecting this from me for a long long time now. It was just a matter of me realizing how important it is and finally acting. Here too, updates to come when I have more to say. Now it’s the time to study and investigate and organize.

And last but not least, it is almost lunch time on this rainy Sunday and I have two episodes of Law&Order-SVU to watch before and after lunch, before my long run and a super shower and more relaxation.

Somehow, the idea of a major change to come, and a change that I have wanted for so long, is slowly taking off the unbearable weight on my shoulders, and the pain in my stomach is diminishing.
About time too.

News on the writing side (and little more)

Well…the first thing I thought of while brushing my teeth this morning was..”Damn! The meeting for the website!”. Ok, so, my memory is a colander. Or, more simply, I didn’t care about that meeting so my mind just didn’t record it and set the alarm to remind me. Never mind.
Because I was writing last night! Writing while listening to beautiful music (the cd I would like to make for David…ladies and gents, one more cd wasted…rhmph!). Writing for a whole hour and a half, which may mean nothing to you, but to me it was a productive hour and a half of trance and words. Preceded by one, and followed by two episodes of my beloved. Never felt any better.
Not that this writing is going anywhere, for the moment. I like to think that it’s some warm-up session before the great work begins. And in any case, it feels so so so good.
You know what? I just want to write. And I am so jealous of all those people who take time off work, leave their jobs, whatever, to do researches and write books. Sometimes bad books too. Depressing, that’s what it is. That I should be confined here with too much time wasted over unimportant papers and tasks, and that the fear for my eyes and the pain in my back and shoulders is so bad that spending more time writing for pleasure is too painful and I have to give up. Depressing indeed.
Once again, and again, and again: patience.

And all of a sudden, I am low. Really low. Low to the point that I spent almost a quarter of an hour crying in the bathroom. Low to the point that I feel weak and only want to go home and lie in my bed staring at the ceiling. Low to the point that I feel the need to run and run, and that will maybe make me feel better. I’ve got to wait till tonight.

(Later on...)
End of another day. I am so tired this week, and it’s only Tuesday. I have another hour before I can be at the gym, and I couldn’t resist, I have just placed a massive order for books and dvd’s…All useful stuff for my researches, though, and it’s pay-day in two weeks after all! Besides, I am not going to buy the camera, so the hundreds of euros I’ve just saved can be used (some of them) for other things. I deserve a little satisfaction, don’t I?

One more weekend (March, 24-25)

Running, running, running.
I spent the weekend running, most of the afternoon both on Saturday and Sunday. It felt so good (although not exactly so good on Sunday when I had the most gigantic blister you could imagine) (today I can barely walk, by the way, thank to that blister).
Anyway.
Interview in an hour, and I have just decided that I will not take this half hour off, since the place is five minutes away from here and I can be there at 12.05 and it won’t be a problem. They don’t expect me earlier than this time anyway, because they’ve been told that I work until 12.
I don’t know what to do and I haven’t talked to my boss’s wife yet. But then this morning I had a problem with a price, and when I checked I saw that all the other prices weren’t the same I had in my notebook. So I went asking Epg, and I found out that there is a new price list I wasn’t aware of, because nobody bothered to tell me or give me a copy; this is in spite of the fact that the boss told Epg that every time they’ve completed a price list she should make a copy for me or copy me in the email she sends to the customer or agent. Thank you very much for making me part of the team, hu?
I am so tired. When I saw that price list I just felt tears coming up and I had to smile and ask politely if I could take that sheet and make a copy, please.
Dammit! This is not fair!
Her new working time is from 9 till 5, with one hour lunch break. Which makes me feel somehow well, because I have two hours virtually by myself. Still, I don’t know what to do. Tonight, though, after collecting all the courage that I have, I will talk to the boss’s wife. After Epg leaves, that is! First I want to see what happens in that interview, what they can offer, what the place is like and all that.
News from the weekend is that I have watched so much tv I didn’t think I could do it, meaning that I have never-ever-ever felt so close to an inanimate object like during these past two days. The weather helped, I must say, thanks to the rain and cold and the generally crappy sky and air we’ve had.
You see, after some more boring rehearsals where I left right away since there were none of my friends and I was pissed off about it;
after going to see yet another set of flooring for the house-to-be;
after preparing lunch and cleaning the kitchen;
after running 5 miles and stretching and showering;
after tidying my room and uploading more music files on my laptop;
after trying to make a cd for David (me and music-makers do not go along well, and I can’t figure out why. Still, I lost almost an hour trying to do that stupid thing!);
after more running and stretching;
after tidying the job files on my desktop;
after more cleaning of the house and tidying of papers;
after writing for a while and complimenting upon my writing skill (because I read last weeks’ brainstorm and it was beautiful…what drugs was I on that day? Must have been all the chocolate…);
after ALL THIS, there was still so much time to go before bed time, and even though I had also read for a while, the call was too strong, and I just had to do it…
So, one episode on Friday night after rehearsals…
Saturday, only two episodes, and just because “Law & Order - Special Victim Unit” was on…
But Sunday, folks…Sunday was a massacre.
The morning was a useless sequence of talks with brother, and with mother, and music files and idle thinking over money and books (don’t ask); in the afternoon I thought I wouldn’t run because of my bad foot, so I watched a couple of S&H before setting off with some writing or music work; then I thought that I could try to run, after all, as I was restless as usual and I knew that if I didn’t move I wouldn’t sleep at night, and I went on the treadmill, for more than an hour, while thinking confusing thoughts about music, and cinema, and how to put the two together, and trying not to think about work and about today’s interview. Follows shower and preparation of my early dinner (apple, yogurt, a marmalade sandwich); then I decided to do something I never do, that is spend the rest of the day in bed, with my dinner and my dvd…and from 6 o’clock to almost midnight, there is nothing else to say…

A TOTAL AMOUNT OF 8 EPISODES, OF WHICH

FIVE PLAYED ONE AFTER THE OTHER,

NON-STOP!

And boy did I laugh! I remembered some of them, the stories I mean, but not the fun and irony and silly stuff going on, and I really really really liked it, so much that I thought it was a good idea to just go on watching until bedtime to feel better.
And I tell you, if I could, I would have watched a couple more, just for the fun of it. A real Starsky & Hutch marathon.
Not bad for one who says I rarely watch tv, hu?

And now, for something completely different: the interview. I must write this to clear my mind, although I don’t think that’s going to help.
So, the interview was ok: small office, two young guys and a girl, pretty friendly, some casual talk and an explanation of the activities of the firm. It looked all right, and they seemed quite convinced that I would be the right choice, even asking me when I would be able to start, and all that.
By the way, I would be their first choice because of my experience…
In a couple of hours I’ll go talk to the boss’s wife, and I will try to tell her how uncomfortable I feel. How I am not a part of the team, and how difficult it has become to work here, not to mention how useless I feel I have become. Then who knows. Technically, accepting the new proposal means no change in terms of pay, and a short “testing” time which, if I want, can be arranged to be straight with the firm, not through the job agency, which is what I most worried about. So, on the practical point of view it would be a change for better, for a smaller, quieter office with lots of work I could easily handle, with three decent colleagues and a more relaxed attitude (and just one woman, remember. This would really make my day).