I realized I take weekends seriously. In their common context of R&R, I mean. I take a break from thinking too.
Last Friday I went through two interviews. And it seems (unless I am bleedingly wrong) that they liked me. There might have been talk about speeding up my transferring to their department, but I was more certain about that last Friday than I am now. I may have blocked out that part of the conversation. On my way back to the branch I wanted to walk around in larger, wider circles. The one-block walk was not enough, and the strong wind made for a great emo walk. My head was spinning to say the least. Overlwhelmed. Yeah, that sounds about right.
When I got back it was to the familiar blur and activity of the branch. And in that short hour I was gone I felt like I’ve missed it. I missed doing this routine that I knew how to do. I missed being around these people who I genuinely like. I missed my new pretty table. But there it was, never to be shaken, that feeling of discontent. I hate climbing the armoured car. And I hate the stink of money. I hate troubleshooting for people who didn’t care enough to avoid their mistakes. I hate…aaahh, this will be a long list.
Uggh. Am I even old enough to make these decisions? Can I even choose my career path now? What if I make another mistake??
I had an epiphany then: I am adverse to change. But that didn’t help very much. Change for the sake of change alone is not a good well to dive into. So I’m trying to steer clear of that trap. God, can you give me a sign please? I know that’s a total cop out. But I’d beg for one if you need me to. Everyone’s blindingly supportive, it’s crazy. But the decision has to be organic, right?
Thus the protest from thinking until further notice.
Thank the DVD pirates for CSI NY. I marathoned what’s left of season 5, my 1000-word article on Melbourne Cup history be damned. I needed to be happy. I need man-candy. And there Danny Messer was.
Now, if you say ‘marriage’, I still say ‘ew’. You say babies and I will make my gross-out face. But the Danny-Lindsay ship, I want on board that too! Not the knocked up part and the fling with the mother of the kid that was killed when guy was in the line of duty (I still don’t forgive you for that, Danny). I want all the comic-book reading, pregnant belly-kissing, baby-name fussing, hold-it-in-I-don’t-want-to-miss-this panic, no-man-but-me-is-getting-near-my-baby-though-she-is-still-an-infant craziness. And they hold hands and kiss now. No more of that building tension that drives me crazy (although that will admittedly be missed).
That was the best season eevvveerr. I can’t wait for season 6. Don’t they dare kill anyone else off again. I’m reading stuff that Danny will be in a wheelchair and he had to have a hot physical therapist, but no please don’t! I don’t think he’s changed enough to be allowed near another hot-blooded female again. Come on, writers!
Anyway. I guess I have bigger problems. September 23 is still 10 years away, we haven’t figured out how to download full episodes (and we have tried, we really did). Oh, and yes, that work crisis I’m having.
I refuse to think! I’m going back to Hogwarts. Creepy young Tom Riddle is less frightening than adulthood.
“bless your body bless your soul reel me in and cut my throat”