Gentle Whispers

I've always loved Sundays. During school, it was the one day of a week when my parents were at home. We'd get a chance to do things around the house. Stocking up for the week ahead. Having a special family lunch. A nap after that and visiting family and friends in the evening. I loved Sundays even more when I started work. Sunday was MY day off. When I could relax and do absolutely anything I wanted to do. Potter around the house, talk on the phone, catch up on all my television viewing and read my books at leisure. But it's not so anymore. Ever since I switched jobs. I now work weekends and take my offs on Monday. And it sucks. It throws everything out of schedule. When I'm free to do absolutely anything I want to do, everybody else is going to work. On the brighter side, I don't have Monday blues anymore. I just hate Tuesdays now.

There are days when I hate my job. Today is not one of those days. Today I absolutely cannot stand my job. I'm very irritated, grumpy, frustrated, irascible and whiny. And I want to pick up my chair and smash it on my computer. Capish? I'm so irritated in fact, that the next person who speaks to me is probably going to get his head bitten off and I'm quite relishing the idea. The best part. It's 9:30 pm IST and I still have four hours to go. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Do you know what else I hate? The goddamn general elections. That's what. Thank god it's bloody over.

Every single day, the AC in my office is cranked up as high as possible. Leaving us poor hapless souls to shiver and freeze our day through work, and go home resembling a popsicle. But today, when I come appropriately attired in a snug, full sleeve shirt, is the day, they decide they need to cut power and have the entire office run on the generator. Which basically means no AC and lots of sweat. What's a girl to do?

One good thing about work, is that it seems to get me to publish a lot more posts. It's like I'm paid... to BLOG! Which is not to say,t hat i don't work extremely hard, because of course I do! Wipe that snigger off your face this minute

It is now exactly 4:55 pm. Another hour and five minutes until I'm officially supposed to leave work. And if I don't leave by 6, so help me God, I'm going to morph into uber bitch. Because today is the day I start working out. Born of my inability to play any sport for more than a hour without wanting to keel over and die. I'm also super hungry and having eaten ghaas-phoos , also known as vegetarian food all day, I'm craving one of those super soft spicy sausage rolls from one of my favourite bakeries in the world. Which I'm supposed to avoid, laced with calories and carbs as they are. And which is unfortunately right opposite the railway station and stares me in the face, ever time I go home. Phbbt. What makes this worse, is I need to go to my friendly(NOT!!) neighbourhood library and return the 15,000 books I picked up a month back and which the old man there is going to rip me off on late fees all the while smiling his fake smile and chattering nonsensically....

Parents are a weird sorta people. My case in point, when I was in college and school, the popular refrain around here was "You can do whatever you want to when your working and earning your own money." Fair enough. And I waited breathlessly until the moment I earned my own cash (which I'm now regretting I might add, I prefer the comfort of college) Anyway, as you all know, I'm working now. Now however the new dialogue around here is 'As long as your living under our roof, you'll do as we say" Sheesh.

Forget all the cribbing I did about work. It's all smoothened over now. With my first ever salary. Until the next fracas that happens that is.

It's been a month since I've started work. And I'm not quite sure whether I like it or no yet. On some levels, I like it. Despite the ruined Saturday nights, when instead of living it up, I'm stuck inside a cold office, working my butt off till at least 11:3o in the night. I enjoy the work. It's fun and challenging and there's something new every time I go out on a story. I've learned so much I never knew a month ago. I know how to assign stories, to pull from the system. To communicate to the photographers exactly what pictures I want. To sub-edit stories and talk to people and get my work done. I've gone on my first ever press conference and had sushi at the ITC Sheraton. Met my first sets of pseudo stars and covered a wider genre of articles than I could have thought possible. In short, judging by the work aspect I love it. What I don't like however, is the work atmosphere. There seems to be a lot of behind the back bitching going around, that I...

I got tagged for this by Homecooked ages ago. And I should probably be shot for not doing this earlier but I plead a hectic work life and a recurring problem of chronic laziness. :D Anyway, here goes I am : dreading the thought of work tomorrow. I think : I should go to sleep now. I want: to skivvy off work tomorrow. I have : ummm... lots of work to do??? I wish : I didn't have any work to do. I hate : colleagues who bitch. I miss : Wilsons I fear : getting fired. I feel : lazy I hear : my dad on the phone I crave : chocolate. I search : for my 2GB pen drive I regret : lending my 4GB pen drive to my friend I love : Sundays. My one day off. I care : for the people and issues I feel are important I am not : ambitious and pushy. I believe : in the people I love. I dance : whenever the mood takes me. I sing : badly but off and on. I cry : way too often lately. I fight: only when I feel truly wronged and offended. I win: sometimes I lose : my keys I never : force my opinions on other...

I'm a Working Drudge. *Sigh* Pity me.

I start work tomorrow for the first time ever. And I'm terrified. Not of the new people or the new place. But of not performing well and not living up to what they expect of me and what I expect of myself. I'm scared that I'll be fired. But most of all, what terrifies me, is the thought that I might realize that journalism is not the profession for me. That i might not be good at it and be forced to give it up. And so, as I begin work tomorrow. All those of you reading this, lurkers and regular readers, please pray for me that all goes well. That I may be good at whatever it is I'm supposed to do. And that this turns out to be the profession for me.

This is a first. I want to blog. But I have no idea what to blog about. Weird. I have finally made a decision though. I'm going to be working for a year and then studying further. Contingent on my getting into a good journalism school that is. All this CV making and job hunting makes me feel terribly grown up. And not necessarily in a good way. Its a time to face up to responsibilities, to shoulder some burdens and to walk on. And to let go of the carefree days of yore. But on the other hand, I will be earning lots of money, (see how good I am at deluding myself), and I will be able to buy myself lots of things. First on the list of which is a new bike. Yay!