The work thing
i feel like i need to explain (mostly to myself) the recent…dread…of work. it’s not that i don’t like my jobs, the work itself is fine, i just don’t like the whole thing of having to work. of having to wake up earlier than i want to in order to get to one office. of having to feel like i’m a terrible worker because there’s so little time and so much to do. and so much gets pushed off. and then it’s a mad race to the other side of town where my other work is. lucky for me, there are some great people in the office but i just don’t enjoy what i do anymore. there’s no thrill. no excitement. no motivation to push forward, to be better, to write better, to learn, to do more…and all because i’m trapped in this question, of wondering what the point to all of it is.
sure, once in a while there are moments of satisfaction, but that’s hardly reason enough to dedicate six days a week and countless hours in and out of the office hunting down leads, finding people, making long trips wherever buses and micros go, to find the right people, writing and writing and writing. there was a time when all of it felt worth it, and now, it’s just tiresome. and i hate that it’s probably reflected in the quality of my work because if i’m not in it, i’m not in it. and i either want to excel, or not do anything at all. there is no room for in between.
maybe the problem is me. to dip my feet into cool waters and then decide it’s too cold and go off searching for something warmer. of course, then the warm will be too hot and there are only so many pools i can be picky about sticking my feet it…at some point i’ve got to learn to swim. or have i? i am, after all, from a landlocked country. and i think i’m starting to lose myself in this analogy.
i suppose it comes down to this (maybe…this is just a theory at best). i’ve got to ask myself, if there were no “must-dos” no incentives of money, no threats of debts, or worries or obligations, what would i wake up for? what would i do because i actually wanted to? i don’t know what the answer to that question is, but i don’t think i’ll find happiness if i continue just doing this. i’m sure there are lessons to learn, but does anyone else think that maybe perseverance is overrated?
in the mean time, it’s still the whole waking up early, going to bed late, doing and not doing things during the day, and arriving home still feeling quite unaccomplished. does anyone want to pay me to be technically unemployed so i can better spend my time and money doing this that may actually be worthwhile? anyone? no? damn.
New ventures around the globe
in a little over a week i’ll be in a part of the world i’ve never been before. for some reason, this trip just doesn’t excite me as much. of course, there’s much to look forward to–that’s undisputed, but the charm and allure of traveling seems like a book i didn’t finish reading and that i have misplaced.
maybe it’s the whole funk i’m in that prevents me from enjoying the present and it’s the very same that blocks the joy and excitement of the future. once i’m there i’m sure it’ll be different. there are old friends to meet, acts of kindness to celebrate, new things to try, new flavors to taste. i’ll be traveling with my mom and it’ll be a first of us going to a place together that isn’t dropping me off at boarding school/going to visit family/hanging out in Kathmandu. which means it’ll be new and it’ll be different. so why the lack of thrill? i couldn’t really say. if this doesn’t excite me and get me motivated about life, i don’t know what will
i’m always irked when us womenfolk are summed up as the emotional kind, esp since “being emotional” is something that i don’t really do. but, there are moments when feelings completely take over and it’s…overwhelming. yesterday i saw the ex and it was…ugh. it was different from what i thought it would be. it was easy to talk to him (not that we really had a conversation, just small chit chat), and perhaps the ease of it (with a tinge of awkward) made it worse. leaving him, there was that feeling, the one that feels like a knot in your throat when you’re trying not to cry. the sinking pain of sorts. of…missing him? i, like another friend who is in recent post-break up phase, have thrown myself into keeping and staying busy that things like missing him didn’t factor into my life because there was no time for it. but seeing him and not being as rushed as i usually am, i dunno. it was unexpected.
i’d be lying if i said certain thoughts didn’t cross my mind, thoughts like…why did i leave him?…. i’d like a proper hug from him…we were good together… and then i had to shake myself out of it and remind myself of that fact that i’m much too independent and much to pig-headed to get myself into relationships. even then, that ache persisted for a while and this morning i woke up to thoughts of him.
oddly enough, you give yourself enough space from things and soon memories of all the bad fade and all that seems to remain is a fondness. maybe these are steps towards friendship, but there’s no need to rush into it yet. there are many other things that need to come into balance.
recently, for reasons involving work and pleasure, i found myself going to outskirts of the valley to places i hadn’t been before. going with someone i didn’t know too well, i found it strange to go through the ‘getting to know someone’ conversations. learning about their work history, of life decisions, of factors and people that’s brought them to where they are. spending so much time trying to fit in space for friends from various groups, i don’t remember the last time i got to know someone “new”. I forgot how nice it is, to be able to feel comfortable with someone you don’t really know. to be able to laugh and joke and even make fun of each other. it was refreshing, because there is no context, no background, no history, just whatever is there in that time in that place.
the strange thing though, is that while we’re off enjoying ourselves, we stumble into a crowd and discover that we’ve arrived in time to watch a funeral procession. and here is the downside of being stuck in situations like this with people you don’t know– you’re not ready or willing, and you can’t be honest about the deeply personal. i wanted to but couldn’t find a way to say that funerals make me extremely uncomfortable.
but i too, among the crowd, stood on the side and watched as long horns were sounded, and i watched as the singing of men led the slew of wailing women. i assume the procession was held for a younger man, at the front of the weeping women was a young woman and two young girls–both under 10. a mourning wife and distraught daughters. i stood and watched each cry out in pain, scooping handfuls of grain from the patti wrapped around their waist. and amidst the crying and singing and horns a-blaring the grains fell, soundless, from fingers that laid a sprinkled thin carpet representing traditions and reasons i was unable to comprehend.
the line of men and women passed us by, and for a brief while, we followed. my company being a photographer with a keen interest in capturing things that are cultural, spoke to the locals in their dialect and took to finding angles to capture the beauty and pain of life and death in a Newar context.
but i was unable to go ahead. at some point, i stopped and turned around to sit on the side of a house and watch people go about their day. i sent a text saying where i was and that we should meet up when the photo taking was finished. i wish that i had the guts to explain, to say that i am unsettled by death. that i, never being able to attend the funeral of one of my best friends, don’t know how to handle the ceremony of death for strangers.
so i waited, leaving things unsaid. listening to the sounds of grief walk into the distance and fade, and being left with only my unabated sense of uncomfortableness.