Thursday 18 February 2010
So just over four hours after driving out of the train station car park I find myself driving back into it. Has life ever felt more pointless? Certainly sleep hasn’t.
Why didn’t I laugh off today? Three hours sleep is not enough kip for anyone. Unsurprisingly I awaken with a headache but that was always going to happen. With almost two years under my belt at this current firm I am still to take a sick day off. What is wrong with me? Why do I live my life by such disciplined ethics when plainly I am nonchalant in attitude towards the system and establishment? I have the fear, that is all.
Today I have “What A Waste” by Ian Dury raging in my head like something of a power mantra, defeatist in tone and levelling in spirit. Am I really wasting my life as the song would be suggesting to me? Could and should I be so much more by this point in proceedings? Certainly the conversations with friends, acquaintances and loved ones over the past two evenings would insinuate that.
At the station I park in the tightest spot available at the car park. Why did I do this? Why do I try these things? As I gingerly reverse between the pillar and close car I come very close to scraping both, with the pillar even slightly hitting my wing mirror. At a couple of points it feels a bridge too far but eventually I get in with full knowledge/realisation that I am likely to return to it tonight with a scratch or two from the car parked tight on the other side. The things I do.
On the train it would have been good to grab some sleep today but it just doesn’t happen, I can’t get comfortable enough to pass out on these things anymore. I don’t know if it is the extra girth that is keeping me awake these days or generally that the train just cannot accommodate my needs as I become more high maintenance by the month. Fortunately nobody bothers me by sitting next to me but all the same there is always that threat and possibility throughout the journey.
As the train trawls into London all seems well. Stepping across Liverpool Street station it is the usual mass of bodies making up the rush and once on a tube heading across town I find myself waddling over to St Johns Wood.
By the time I reach my desk I am left with a feeling that I have no idea of how I am going to get through today. When the others begin to filter in they all ask me “how was it?” to which I respond with resounding indifference towards both Avatar and the IMAX experience. Things in my life are such an anticlimax sometimes.
The first thing I actually do today is catch up with the Facebook Cull. If others knew/realised this it would probably get frowned upon but it needs doing. There was a 75 day meet up for the project at the Battersea Arts Centre last night and quite frankly I would have much preferred to have attended that than the humourless blue freak nature movie.
Once done with that stuff from there I sail out the morning in distracted fashion working on the sales deposit schedules/sheets, coming up with information but no real answers or solutions. This is definitely one of the softest areas of our records, one that I hate as the site managers just do not do it correctly but unfortunately by the time I pick the job up it is long after the event and the horse has bolted. Such is (my working) life.
Late into the morning the angry boss comes into our office with a pack of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, which he doesn’t want because he is off chocolate for lent. Result.
At some point in the morning I find myself having a debate/conversation with the other two about my friendships at a time when they are fast spiralling into immature territory. My grounded self esteem (and insecurity) really does not lend itself to possessing anything close to resembling confidence and as a result it appears to be making me behave slightly clingy. Fortunately nobody is noticing this (I think).
For lunch I throw my good intentions out of the wind and have sausage, mash and beans for dinner. And there was me just expressing concern about being immature.
In the afternoon I endeavour to get back into the swing of things but there is just nothing to stink my teeth into work wise at the moment, currently all is scrappy and slow burning. Fortunately slowly work begins to take shape and come together though as I take a different approach to proceedings.
It is with a high degree of relief that 5.30PM arrives tonight. As home time arrives it comes with our boss once more showing us his IMDB entry and all the exciting production projects he was involved in around 1990. We like him so we happily indulge him.
On the way home tonight as I change lines unfortunately I spot the Baker Street Midget. Suddenly I feel concern for the rest of the evening.
Tonight on the tube across town a couple of annoying kids hog a number of the seats. By the end of the journey however they are playing Borat sound clips through their mobile phones and they have made me a fan.
From here the train journey back to Essex goes without incident and soon I find myself back in Colchester moving my awkwardly parked car.
Upon arrival back to Bohemian Grove now a Homebase receipt appears to have replaced the yoghurt lid as the rubbish of choice on our landing. Where did these pikeys come from?
Stepping through my front door strangely the expected sense of fatigue does not hit me as I accomplish some writing and watch this weeks Culture Show developing something of a crush on Hadley Freeman in the process. It’s a good look.
Around 8.15PM my week catches up with as I crash and head to bed. I put on the movie of I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell but it is excruciating and as a result I fall asleep very quickly.