Not that the two are synonymous, but neither one is making the other any better.
My headaches continue – dull throbbing, along with the feeling of a spiked ball rolling around inside my head. Nice. Especially considering how much I have to get done. I’ve got project plans due, as well as a ton of other planning crap.
I have to go out of town for another four days on Sunday night. This time, I’m flying across an ocean, and I expect that by the time I’m no longer jet-lagged, I’ll be turning around and coming home again. I’m only gone till this coming Thursday night, so it’s not so bad — four full days, instead of the eight or nine I’ve had to travel in the past. But still…
I just want to stay home and take care of business. Walk in the woods. Read a book. Sleep in. Chill.
Oh, well. I’ll get to do some of that on the plane. And I can use the time away to see and do different things. I’m supposed to be going to an international hot-spot, but all I can think about is how I’m going to find food I can eat.
Because I don’t drink alcohol, including wine and beer… I don’t eat dairy, including cheese and cream… I don’t eat bread or pretzels or baguettes or rolls of any kind… and I can’t have a lot of rich foods because of my gall bladder. So, that leaves me with lean meat and fruits and vegetables. I guess I’ll be eating a lot of steak and fries, this trip. I need to learn how to say “medium rare” in a couple of different languages.
My expectations for this trip are at an all-time low. I don’t want to go. I don’t particularly care for the people I’m traveling with. I don’t particularly care for the company I’m going to be visiting. I am really NOT in the mood to deal with anyone who gives me attitude, and I’ve been working on my international body language that tells people I really don’t give a flip what they think — I’m not going to indulge them and their petty squabbles, so piss off.
Well, here’s hoping I don’t end up in a brawl. Getting thrown in jail overseas (or fired) is not my idea of a successful business trip. The best I can really ask for, is just getting in and out in one piece, and being done with it.
All this traveling is getting a bit easier for me, I have to say. At least I’m acquiring that skill. I pretty much know what I’m going to pack, and I’ll be able to carry everything on, so I don’t have to check a bag. I’ve really cut down on the amount of crap I feel the need to cart around, and that goes for what I pay attention to, as well.
On past trips, I was so overwhelmed with input and stimuli, so conflicted about what I should be looking at and doing/enjoying/experiencing, I was totally exhausted by the time I got home. On this trip, I’m planning to just block out anything I don’t need to know about (which is almost everything), and leave it at that. I don’t have to have “an experience”. I’m not a friggin’ tourist. I don’t even have to enjoy myself that much, this time. I just need to finish the job, do my presentation(s), meet the right people, make a professional impression, and get back home safely, so I can have a nice long weekend, after I get back. The 17th is a holiday, so I’ll be able to do all the things I didn’t get to do while I was away — walk in the woods, clean my basement, take care of taxes, and generally just rest.
My new outlook on life is — I don’t give a damn. I give up on caring about just about everything. I decided that this morning at 4:15 a.m., when I woke up out of a fitful sleep and had a bit of a meltdown over something my spouse had done earlier that day. Nothing like punctuating the wee hours of the day with a little emotional upheaval. Stupid. Pointless. And it keeps me from sleeping when I need to.
So, screw it. I’m sick and tired of just about everything. I’m sick and tired of my job, I’m sick and tired of my boss(es), I’m sick and tired of the whole corporate ladder deal, all the jockeying for position, all the lame-ass politicking, and the drama. I’m sick and tired of everything.
But you know what? I don’t have to be in love with what I do, to do it — and do it well. It almost doesn’t even matter how I feel about it. I show up and do my job, and people are happy about it. Fine. For them. For me, I just want my paycheck and the ability to pay my bills and keep a roof over my head. And I want to be left alone, to my own devices, with my own plans and my own interests and my own activities.
Everyone else can go screw, including my boss, my employer, and most of my co-workers.
They’re very nice people doing very exciting things, but I just don’t care about it anymore.
Maybe I’m getting old. Maybe I’ve just seen too much. It’s lame, how they want us to be so in love with our jobs at work. Please. My work doesn’t even belong to me. It belongs to them. I signed the paper that said so. And what do I have to show for it, honestly? Just a paycheck and a bunch of interesting tidbits to add to my resume and LinkedIn profile.
Well, it’s Friday. Finally. Lest you think I’m all bitter and whatnot — even clinically depressed — you should know that my not giving a damn is quite freeing. I don’t have a ton of attachment, right now, to things turning out a certain way. I just do my best and let it go, and things turn out the way they will.
It sure as hell beats getting all worked up and invested in things turning out JUST RIGHT – OR ELSE. That’s just a recipe for misery, as far as I’m concerned.
So, I’ve let it go. For today, anyway. Tomorrow, I may feel very different. But for now, it’s all about just keeping my head on straight and getting my bags packed and having enough money in the bank to get me where I’m going and get people paid when they need to be.