In a dark time, the eye begins to see
It's been a strange week. The financial world is crashing. How many people are worrying about savings? Lives feel destroyed. The world is turned on it's head.
And I have been grouchy all week about my own petty misfortunes. Misfortune is really too strong a word. I'm temping in a job on reception for £8.50 an hour. Shit money. There are times when it's quite busy and fun and times when it's completely quiet. In the times it's quiet on the best kind of reception job you're allowed to read a book. Those are the very best, but usually it's tacitly understood that it's ok to browse the internet. For me at the moment that would mean flat hunting, updating my CV and working on job applications. In this job, pettily you're not allowed to. I've asked for work to do, but there isn't any.
I'm finding strategies, trying to teach myself to use excel and powerpoint and doing bits of writing under the phone message pad, but it's soul destroying.
This evening I saw a room in a houseshare in Archway which I really should have taken because it's a great deal financially, but the idea of going back to that kind of grotty student living is so depressing after my beautiful studio in Paris.
In my parents kitchen this evening the phone rang. My dad answered. Someone called Abdul on the phone wanting to speak to my mum who was lying, hairless from the chemo (breast cancer) on the sofa. 'Oh you speak to him, I can't' she tells my dad who hates speaking to anyone on the phone, even his own brothers.
So I took the phone, ready to get rid of the intruder to say no to whatever he wanted politely, but firmly.
Adbul said that my mum had donated money a couple of years ago to his charity which supported Iranian people who had been tortured. Could he speak to her? I told him no, that she was ill at the moment and we were looking after her. Oh dear, he said, nothing serious I hope. Cancer I said, flinging the word like a weapon at him.
We'll pray for her, he said. Tell her that we'll all pray for her. And you are a good daughter to be looking after her.
All I had heard was a foreign name. A money chasing call breaking into our cosy kitchen. After I put the phone down I realise what I had heard was another person who had probably been through things I cannot possibly imagine, asking for money for people which I take for granted.
I have been complaining all week because I'm not earning as much money as I feel I should, because the rooms I'm looking at aren't as large or as nice as I feel I deserve. What do I really deserve? What does he, or the people on whose behalf he was calling really deserve.
A window of answers seemed to open up to me, for a brief moment. I hope I can hold onto it. How lucky I am, warm, safe, full, surrounded by love and endless possibility.
When I heard my mum had cancer I decided it was time to grow up and stop behaving like a teenager. Time to put childish dreams aside and earn my own living, get a proper job. Which is what has lead me to disgruntled temping and job applications.
I don't know quite where I'm going at the moment. I really hope to be able to find something I can believe in. But I hope I can keep my mind open, or open it further than it seems to be at the moment, and to count my blessing here and now and as they are.
(By the way, the quote is Roethke.)
And I have been grouchy all week about my own petty misfortunes. Misfortune is really too strong a word. I'm temping in a job on reception for £8.50 an hour. Shit money. There are times when it's quite busy and fun and times when it's completely quiet. In the times it's quiet on the best kind of reception job you're allowed to read a book. Those are the very best, but usually it's tacitly understood that it's ok to browse the internet. For me at the moment that would mean flat hunting, updating my CV and working on job applications. In this job, pettily you're not allowed to. I've asked for work to do, but there isn't any.
I'm finding strategies, trying to teach myself to use excel and powerpoint and doing bits of writing under the phone message pad, but it's soul destroying.
This evening I saw a room in a houseshare in Archway which I really should have taken because it's a great deal financially, but the idea of going back to that kind of grotty student living is so depressing after my beautiful studio in Paris.
In my parents kitchen this evening the phone rang. My dad answered. Someone called Abdul on the phone wanting to speak to my mum who was lying, hairless from the chemo (breast cancer) on the sofa. 'Oh you speak to him, I can't' she tells my dad who hates speaking to anyone on the phone, even his own brothers.
So I took the phone, ready to get rid of the intruder to say no to whatever he wanted politely, but firmly.
Adbul said that my mum had donated money a couple of years ago to his charity which supported Iranian people who had been tortured. Could he speak to her? I told him no, that she was ill at the moment and we were looking after her. Oh dear, he said, nothing serious I hope. Cancer I said, flinging the word like a weapon at him.
We'll pray for her, he said. Tell her that we'll all pray for her. And you are a good daughter to be looking after her.
All I had heard was a foreign name. A money chasing call breaking into our cosy kitchen. After I put the phone down I realise what I had heard was another person who had probably been through things I cannot possibly imagine, asking for money for people which I take for granted.
I have been complaining all week because I'm not earning as much money as I feel I should, because the rooms I'm looking at aren't as large or as nice as I feel I deserve. What do I really deserve? What does he, or the people on whose behalf he was calling really deserve.
A window of answers seemed to open up to me, for a brief moment. I hope I can hold onto it. How lucky I am, warm, safe, full, surrounded by love and endless possibility.
When I heard my mum had cancer I decided it was time to grow up and stop behaving like a teenager. Time to put childish dreams aside and earn my own living, get a proper job. Which is what has lead me to disgruntled temping and job applications.
I don't know quite where I'm going at the moment. I really hope to be able to find something I can believe in. But I hope I can keep my mind open, or open it further than it seems to be at the moment, and to count my blessing here and now and as they are.
(By the way, the quote is Roethke.)
posted by lecoqblogger at 9:34 pm
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