Skip to main content

Fridays

I used to love Fridays -- those perfect days especially about this time in the afternoon when you know, basically, the work day is over and you can start dreaming about the weekend and time with friends and people you love. Movies. A bit of cleaning. Some late morning breakfasts.

Lately, though, Fridays have paralyzed me. Part of it is sitting here hoping editors get back to me. Hoping calls get returned. Hoping I can actually get off my behind and do something productive besides stressing about all the things I should be, uh, doing that would be productive.

Maybe it's January. And winter. And that sometimes working alone at home sends me to the television set just to hear a voice in the background.

I starting to think that truthfully I am never going to be someone who can just relax. I will create something to angst over even if there is nothing there. Hence my Friday afternoon lull attacks.

Thank goodness just 10 minutes left until I can get The Rabbit and my need for diversion will be over.

Comments

Anonymous said…
I quit full-time work to look after my two year old, but freelance work has been tough..waiting for that editor to call back..I am right there so know how you feel!

I've lived in NYC and that city can be tough. Like you I blog to vent it out and it helps, so that's the best you can do.

Thank God for the internet.

Popular posts from this blog

Apologies for being incommunicado this week and hope none of you out there are too distraught not to be receiving the usual almost-daily MotV missives. The reason for the silence is that I'm up to my neck, metaphorically-speaking, in research papers for my first grad course assessment. This experience has made me realise how rigorously un-academic I am in my thinking. It has also illuminated how reliant I am on red wine in order to get through endless evenings typing furiously on my laptop, not to mention the fueling of increasingly colorful curses that I feel obliged to aim at the University's online library system which consistently refuses to spit out any of the journals I'm desperate for (I refuse to believe this is 100% due to my technical incompetence...) Oh well, if this is the price one has to pay in order to realize a long-cherished dream then it's not all that bad... No one ever said a mid-life career change would be easy. Wish me luck!

A thought

Perhaps sometimes a gift can be delivered in the guise of a tragedy. It's just a matter of perception, after all. I suspect that the talent lies in looking beyond the surface to what lies beneath and beyond. And, of course, being able to make sense of it all and going on to apply that knowledge to building a productive way forward. Here's hoping.

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to

A friend recently emailed me to say that her big memory of her stay with us last year is that she had a great birthday, one of the few where she didn't 'act like a spoiled grumpy princess'. She tried to give me all the credit but as I explained to her, it was all down to having a fellow female organising the birthday fun rather than leaving it to her partner. Her email got me thinking about birthdays and how very different men and women are in their attitudes to celebrating special occasions. It also had me thinking about my birthday two years ago when I threw a major tantrum in the Carrefour car-park after being told that we were off to do the weekly shop, kids in tow, which was simply the final straw at the end of a very uninspiring day. In contrast, my birthday last year was rather lovely (a morning on my own in a spa with no mobile coverage, pure selfish bliss). This year - in a few short months, eek! - I'll be hitting the grand old age of 38. This will be my las...