Lets Practice Leaving Me the Hell Alone!
Stand-Alone Dreamer | 29 September 2004, 4:11amIt's a glorious, beautiful holiday here. I'd love to be in my pajamas, lazing around, doing nothing,
looking at the lazy spoiled kids in the neighborhood playing around with their oversized dog!
Instead, I'm here, at work, vainly trying to use my non-existent graphic design skills to finish up the presentation. I work 12 hours a day, non-stop, I rarely (never) have time to whine and fool around. It's not a matter of improving my time management skills, as all the time I have is busy being managed by a never-ending rush of phone calls, meetings, programs, and more meetings -- oh yes, and sometimes I try to eat. The infinite number of unread e-mails clogging in my mailbox, the un-answered phone calls, both official & personal, has started giving me nightmares.
There is a finite amount of work that one human being can do. If you want someone to be able to do everything well, you need to give him a reasonable amount of things to work on. 4 hours spent finishing up a presentation for an Israeli VP, no matter how important, is 4 hours I couldn't have worked on marketing, new proposals & programs, acquisitions or anything else.
When doing the entire program by one's own self, one cannot do everything, and therefore, rational creatures might let him off the hook; for not being perfect at maintaining his training record or for not single-handedly 'marketing' the management fantasies all over the globe or for not implementing 'high-priority' programs and research guidelines or for winning the Nobel Peace Prize and saving starving orphaned wallabees in Africa, on his miniscule 20-minute lunch break.
Granted, that became a rant more than a list of reasons, but I think the point can be considered made. I sometimes wonder whether I'm expected to work this much, and that in order to do everything that I'm expected to do, I should really be working more.
Looking through some of my old file archives, I ran into some old self-portraits from my time in college... I looked so different then. I almost could not recognize myself. Some non-describable sadness in my eyes; an uncanny feeling, may be a pure bachelor emotion, a form of estrangement, weird unfamiliarity, to say: was that really me? Also, did I really look like that? The pain inside is so evident from the face. I wonder: How come I did not realize it back then?
Current Mood: Screwed
Current Music: where the hell is the time for music!!
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