There will be daily posts for Thursday – Monday. They’re just not going to happen on the day. Oooh, that sends a chill down my aching spine to say. I mean, it’s been four years. I think I’ve earned a little bit of your trust that I will not go away. I will be taking written notes, and will attempt to get down 500 words in hand everyday, but I kind of think I will be a little bit under the influence of substances and laughter and 900000 geeks overwhelming this little empath with all their unbound charisma and self-expression. Or whatever.
While this post should be a packing list or it should be an edited version of yesterday’s brain vomit which frankly, nobody should be forced to read, I don’t really have the time to do that. The list doesn’t generate near enough words, and my heart isn’t in the story where it ought to be. I’m instead contemplating what I can pull together for this post and throw myself into sleep so I can get myself up for another spastic run to get every last damn thing done. Headphones! I’ll need headphones!
I have been in touch with the potential employer, but she would like to meet so we’re not surreptitiously discussing this over the phone while my boss is out. I appreciate that. I do want to get it over with and now I’ll have it in the back of my mind throughout my time in Atlanta.
There’s a part of me that is still really horrified that I’m considering this as I go to work and yet again struggle to touch the stacks and stacks of worryingly undone work that surrounds me and as I cling to the notion that if something shitty is falling through the cracks, eventually, someone would have had to point it out to me. That part of me is hearing internal commotions and is feeling myself as a building block to so many plans and that I would just extract myself from supporting new boss right now seems like a profoundly self-serving thing to do. To not stay and mend the cracks in the dam and instead pull my thumb out and start singing hidey didey day seems like a fable waiting to happen.
I can only compare it to Atlas (and having read Jeannette Winterson’s profound and dense little tome Weight, that comes to mind right now). Over time, I’ve taken this world upon my shoulders and everyone’s become very used to this status quo and so long as I bear the burdens I bear, we will carry on. We will always just make it. But I’m the one with the fucking throbbing shoulders and this idea that maybe I want to set this world down and live a life of greater anonymity and less demand. I feel like I’ve suddenly woken up and now I can’t just go back to sleep to keep up this shared dream for everyone. That I want something else more powerfully than I want to be a good employee, a good, stand-up kind of gal, to be of service.
I want to not grind my teeth and be afraid and exhausted and annoyed and taken for granted. The part of me that feels I deserve all of that needs to go eat shit and bark at the moon.