I’m in the library and its home time. I know this because my
body is telling me so; I’m starving hungry, my neck aches, and the Riverdance soundtrack
just isn’t doing it for me anymore. I’ve spent all day in a chair, but I need a
sit down. I need the soothing sanctuary of my sofa. I keep thinking about my
favourite spot like some sort of infatuated teenager. Ah, young love.
Have I got a lot done? I guess so. I submitted an
application for a job I really really want, confirmed my work experience for
tomorrow AND drew a fabulously creepy face in my notebook. Daily targets
achieved. So why am I still sat here like some sort of immobile hunchback with
pencil all over her hands? Why do I feel like I’ve not earned my right to
leave?
The girl opposite me came in after me and SHE’S packing up
to go. Sure, she has done a lot of reading today and she probably didn’t have a
half an hour Plants-vs-Zombies-followed-by-reading-all-the gossip-in-the-Daily-Mail
break. But hey, some of my best critical thinking comes from when I read about
celebrities, what can I say.
The thing is, I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to eat
dinner and sit on the sofa with friends reruns on in the background. I don’t want
to chill out and unwind and prepare for tomorrow. I mean, I really really do. I’m
practically having a dream sequence at the idea. But I can’t. I’m not done with
today.
I guess what no one tells you when you quit your job is, you
don’t really get any more free time. Oh you get vacant time, yes of course.
Time that is not occupied with prior engagements, sure, fine. But free, ah noo.
Not quite.
Previously, I would come home from work each day and try and
cram in all my experience begging, applications and blog ideas in to those four
and a half hours until bed. Some days I’d be up all night inspired, other days
it would be get in, book/TV, bed, or drinks with friends. It’d always be on my mind
that I had to get some writing done, but if I didn't, it wasn't the end of the
world. I’d been at work all day. I was putting metaphorical bread on the
metaphorical table. Some down time was my natural reward.
But now… the whole day is mine. My life right now, technically
speaking, is a never-ending blank canvas. And yet somehow I feel like I've
never had so little time to relax.
It’s like the irritating buzz of ideas in my brain now never
stops. I can always do more. There is no bedtime, there is no stop point to how
many hours I can use in a day. The time constraints on what I want to achieve
have been lifted; and with them, hordes of new projects have come flooding in,
clambering for my attention. I don’t want to waste a minute. I have taken to only
allowing myself to watch TV if I'm stopping for food at the same time. Some
days I even find myself subconsciously skipping lunch because the sitting down
makes me feel so guilty. I tell myself I should be plugging away nonstop on my
laptop instead. No career yet? No breaks for you then Glen Coco.
I'm just going to say it; I blame movies. Legally Blonde, I'm
looking at you. That montage sequence of Elle Woods studying for her exams exists
just to torment me. If Elle’s missing frat parties to do practice papers, I
ought to be too. If she can run on a treadmill and read law books, hell, I'm
just lazy if I don’t even try. Elle never stops. They don’t show the bit where
she falls asleep in front of Geordie Shore with a bargain bucket dripping
grease in her lap. She’s a one woman mission to success and I'm struggling to
keep up. The ‘Hard Work Montage’ is a big fat liar.
I suppose as well, I don’t want to get caught out. I live in
fear of lying down for a moment and someone bursting in yelling ‘AHA! I KNEW
YOU WEREN'T WORKING HARD!’ If the Elle
montage is what it’s like to really want something, then anything less just isn’t
good enough. I always think of Olympic rower Ben Hunt-Davis talking about opening
ceremony for the Sydney 2000 Games. The team had one question they applied to
everything; ‘Will it make the boat go faster?’ If the answer was no; it wasn't
happening. The team missed the ceremony and went on to win the Gold for the
first time since 1912.
It IS amazing to be that single-minded. It’s brilliant to work your hardest. Some days I'm so excited to get writing, it's almost impossible for me to think of anything else. I guess the part I'm just struggling with now is when to switch off. Not just taking a break, but giving myself one too. Cutting myself some
slack. Committing to the down time as much as the uphill battle. Besides, I'm
not sure I can starve myself long enough to have food for a whole episode of
Doctor Who.
I mean, Rowers need sleep too, right? Weirdly enough I
always imagined them watching the opening ceremony at home, all sat in a canoe like
Chandler and Joey a la season 4. That’s probably the real reason that story has
stayed with me so well.
Ah, I've just received my third ‘you’re still in the
library???’ WhatsApp. Multiple punctuation says it’s time to go. That and the
fact I'm now alone in my row. There is only so many times a girl can listen to
Reel around the Sun after all. It’s time for me to depart and hit the comfy
seats hard-core.
Netflix, I’m coming for you.
