(no subject)
Feb. 16th, 2006 04:35 pmAs my course workload finally picks up its own slack...I'm finding that work is becoming less of a chore and more of a refuge. Yes, the loss of time is always a little unsettling. I'm also still bothered by the fact that I can walk in from beautiful daylight and by the time I come out, the day is gone. I'm bothered by the fact that my work shifts take place when other people's lives occur.
In fact, that last part hurts the most, I think. It means that not only am I missing out on the things I enjoy, but my time with Brian is somewhat limited as well. This means that when I'm home, he can't do anything either, as we don't get much time together otherwise. I don't want us to lose each other, because if that happens I lose the last part of me that knows what it's like to be happy and to love. It's a recent development, but one that has become central to my life. I suspect that the person my job demands is the girl that neither of us wants.
Despite all this, a refuge is what I'm finding. I found myself looking forward to work today. This job exemplifies what I am. This is my identity, whether or not I'm always happy when the role is handed to me. Whether I like it or not, I'm good at this job because it only requires that I be myself. It's a place where I don't have to lie about myself, because no one asks. It's a place where I don't have to pretend I care, because everyone already knows I don't. I know exactly what is expected of me and how to get what I want from others.
Despite the constant voices of strangers in my ear and the incessant beeping, ringing, trilling, and predictable tones and recordings.... despite the fact that my conversations are always the same and always with people who are indistinguishable from one another, despite the fact that I can't ever hope to escape the sounds of my own words flowing from the voices of dozens of other callers, often at work I find my time to be alone. My ears and voice are assaulted by the demands of others, but my mind is quiet.
It's a relief sometimes, this peaceful death of the thinking self. Of course it's a little frightening when I'm not ready to go yet, when I still have things I want to do away from the dialer, away from the halter and bridle that make my microphone accessible at all times. But those times are dwindling in number. More and more, this silence inside me is a relief.
In fact, that last part hurts the most, I think. It means that not only am I missing out on the things I enjoy, but my time with Brian is somewhat limited as well. This means that when I'm home, he can't do anything either, as we don't get much time together otherwise. I don't want us to lose each other, because if that happens I lose the last part of me that knows what it's like to be happy and to love. It's a recent development, but one that has become central to my life. I suspect that the person my job demands is the girl that neither of us wants.
Despite all this, a refuge is what I'm finding. I found myself looking forward to work today. This job exemplifies what I am. This is my identity, whether or not I'm always happy when the role is handed to me. Whether I like it or not, I'm good at this job because it only requires that I be myself. It's a place where I don't have to lie about myself, because no one asks. It's a place where I don't have to pretend I care, because everyone already knows I don't. I know exactly what is expected of me and how to get what I want from others.
Despite the constant voices of strangers in my ear and the incessant beeping, ringing, trilling, and predictable tones and recordings.... despite the fact that my conversations are always the same and always with people who are indistinguishable from one another, despite the fact that I can't ever hope to escape the sounds of my own words flowing from the voices of dozens of other callers, often at work I find my time to be alone. My ears and voice are assaulted by the demands of others, but my mind is quiet.
It's a relief sometimes, this peaceful death of the thinking self. Of course it's a little frightening when I'm not ready to go yet, when I still have things I want to do away from the dialer, away from the halter and bridle that make my microphone accessible at all times. But those times are dwindling in number. More and more, this silence inside me is a relief.