Can you hear the sound of crickets around here? I know, it’s been quiet. Do I have an excuse? No. Nothing better than “Life happens”. And also maybe that I usually sometimes absolutely never write at work and I’ve actually been busy for a change.
I like being busy at work. My job isn’t rocket science – in fact sometimes it isn’t even remotely stimulating – but it is work. A lot of what I do is rhythmic and methodical. I focus and read and sort and staple and make piles and put piles away. I filter information and put it into its proper place. I organize thing and people that need organization. It’s reassuring and safe to have things to do. I like that.
Not to mention, of course (naturally), that not having any work makes me fear for my job. Nobody wants to become redundant these days. Although I don’t suspect I am actually in fear of being let go. The other day my boss said, real off the cuff like, “Juliet’s a Lifer!”
This was meant as a compliment, I am sure. There are a lot of people in my small office that have been here for fifteen years. Several. In this day and age that’s a lot of people to have been with one company for so long. My boss, he meant that I fit in so well that I could be like them. Retire with the company.
Being a “Generation Me” baby, I was a little terrified by the thought. In fact, I think my exact thought was “Dear God I hope not.”
Not because of my company. Not even close. Just because I can’t see myself fifteen years from now at the same desk doing the same work. I want to be a writer or an artist or something so very soul fulfilling. Could I possibly be happy shuffling and sorting and organizing fifteen years from now?
But then, the benefits are great.
I miss writing though. It’s a dear old friend that I haven’t visited much lately. I always love spending time with it but it’s a matter of getting there, sitting down with it, getting it to open up. I didn’t use to have a hard time with it. Life happens though. Things we’re passionate about take the back burner for the practical parts of life. They get sorted, put in a pile, arranged in their “proper” places.
I hate that.
I want to turn the place inside out, burn dinner and let my mind wander. I want to find a comfortable place, curl up with the cat and spend hours working out the thoughts that keep me from sleeping. I want to disorganize.
Once I get home though? I’ll probably just curl up with Husband on the couch and watch our shows. You know. Life happens.