Friday night doesn’t seem to be the best time for coming up with an interesting blog post. I am determined not to miss another day though with June fast coming to an end. If anything, this year’s blogjune has made me realise how little time I spend writing. If you can be bothered trawling back through the archives of this blog you will see that for a few years there I was quite prolific. There was the time I wrote daily updates of a whole season of The Biggest Loser. There was the chronicles of my reading partner and I making our way through Foucault’s Discipline and Punish. There were many posts about television. At some point though I think the sheer volume of crappy work emails and other pointless busy work invaded the space I once used in my brain to actually “think” about things. My days became consumed with composing emails to snarky, rude colleagues that would attempt to perform two functions: 1. draw the snarkiness to a close in no uncertain fashion and 2. not result in further incessant pestering of either myself, other staff, hr or the union. I was not always successful but I have become quite skilled at such communications.
Yep, that’s the kind of delightfully toxic work environment I find myself in. It’s not like it all the time but the toxicity constantly simmers below the surface with the potential to flame up on the screen just when you think things are quiet. It’s mentally exhausting. And this evening when my dear Dad asked me if once I finished work in October I would start doing some writing again I was surprised and a little bit saddened. I hadn’t realised other people had noticed that I had really stopped. And I hadn’t realised the full extent of the effect stopping has had on me over the last couple of years. So I hope I do start writing again, whether it is here or in other forms. I want to. I hope it’s the kind of writing that’s about more than what I am wearing, the colour of my shoes or my breakfast. Although, the Seinfeldian in me thinks believes those things are actually important to record, I need to stretch myself further than that as well. Let’s see what happens shall we?
1 Comment »
When what you love becomes your job, all the fun is gone. It is nice your dad noticed though and maybe you’ll rediscover the urge to write again???