Please forgive me; I offer this post not because I think I am inherently more interesting than anyone else. In fact, once I tell you how i discovered these things about myself, you will probably agree that I am inherently less interesting than you.
I don’t wish to come across as someone who believes that they should be the focus of a column in a Celebrity magazine, called something like “20 questions!” “Get the lowdown!” “The skinny on …” Good lord no. I barely rate a mention in my workplace newsletter or all staff email list.
That too, is okay. My brain contains dark workings, too febrile for the general public ……
Not really, it’s just that I’ve had a week off and I haven’t done much with it, which has been truly liberating. I think back to the article in the Onion, headlined, “Area Man disappointed to find that he has failed to sort his life out in week off.” Or something like that, the point is that I work in a job that regularly grants me a week off (no I’m not a spy), so I’m all too aware of the “I will turn my life around” phenomenon that hits and I’m cautious of its effects. Monday: get a new job. Tuesday: sort out will and revolutionise wardrobe and living space. Wednesday: Get fit. Thursday: See all absent friends and family. Friday: Meditate the shit out of it. Saturday: Sort out finances. Sunday: Repeat Wednesday and Friday. This is made more challenging if you have any add ons, like seeking a life partner, or the desire to learn to cook or horse ride, or master an instrument for example.
Allow me to take on the guise of a salty seadog, propped up at the end of a beer sodden bar, holding a few novices in the palm of my hand and pausing to suck on a cheroot before delivering my credo. Beware the week off: it fulfills nothing but your well of disappointment and shame! You will never sort your life out in a week off. A more believable timetable runs like this: Monday: sleep in. Feel bad about sleeping in. Tuesday: Get up with good intentions. Wander into town at midday and feel bereft. Wednesday: Try to do the things that you set out to do on Monday and Tuesday and realise that it will never happen. Thursday: Netflix. Friday: Drown out impending doom feeling about work through any available vice. Saturday: Look at what other people have done on their week off. Sunday: do laundry, cry, drink.
Sorry – that’s just how it is. If you are a novice! A better option is just to accept that not everything will be achieved and that this isn’t your one-shot at success, anyway. This week, I’ve been to the gym, watched an entire series of House of Cards, done some writing, done some walking, failed to get Prince tickets. That’s a good haul, all told. Well done me. Through hours of not doing very much I’ve also found out some previously incommunicable things about myself.
I am a Magic Eye. The longer I stare, the weirder the fruit. For example, through long bouts of not doing much, I now know that:
The default taste in my mouth is parmesan.
I can gauge how stressed I am by how many hair bands I can avail myself of. The fewer I have, the more stressed I am,
Facially I do have a better side, but I can never remember which it is.
As child, I remember being so bored that I danced full out to the theme tune from Sons and Daughters. In a room on my own. Full out.
Don’t worry, I’m back at work next week