Wednesday June 4th. 23:56.
Just over a week until my birthday, and the world is not really seeming to recognise the fact in any way shape or form. There's no celebration or comment planned. No big event upon which a succession of world leaders will find themselves forced to make increasingly implausible statements.
Who am I kidding ? World leaders ? It's not like I died or something.
Not yet anyway, you never know I guess.
After all, that is the other side to the congratulations you receive from people, 'Happy Birthday !!' they say. Well, the alternative to me getting another year older is that I stop breathing and die, so if you don't mind, I wasn't hanging out for your congratulations. I was just trying not to be dead yet.
Here's the thing. Since my last entry I have done a grand total of zero writing, editing or indeed creating of any medium. (if you exclude this blog entry of course). The most exciting thing I've done all week has been to write about thirteen letters to customers at work, and play a little with the spreadsheet the team uses to look at their performance.
I made colourful graphs.
You've heard of death by powerpoint ? Well, this is crucifixion by excel.
It would seem that my daughter having cunningly miscalculated the timing of both my birthday and Father's day may not even be seeing me that weekend. I have to say that I struggle to adapt to this change in the frequency of our visits. As much as it may appear to be a gift that I get a whole other day each weekend to do things as I please, I'm not really happy with the price I am paying, or enjoying them that much.
More (free) time does not actually translate into more pleasure. It is not exactly as if I am doing something useful with that extra time. Normally just fucking around on facebook, or wasting time on Secondlife.
Not that it's been a really concious decision lately, but I have found that I'm not tempted to descend into the pixelated fantasy during the week. I'm usually just so frigging tired and worn out from the day at work that the last thing I want to do is switch on a computer or to read something where I'm having to do some thing.
I am quite happy to turn on the idiot box, and to sit there with my brain dribbling out my ear holes. Too many reasons not to do anything, too many distractions. Too easy to find something else I can do.
Work at the moment is, I would say, something that I tolerate. It isn't something I feel really great about, or good with. It's just something I have to do to get money to afford to live. There's a clock ticking at the back of my head that tells me it is only a matter of time before I hate it, and resent it. I feel like it's killing my soul, getting in the way of my life and sapping me of any energy to enjoy things. It's not part of the solution, it is the fucking problem.
I would suspect in that respect I am not in any way shape or form alone. There's always someone worse of than you are. I have plenty to be thankful for. I have my health, it's not as if I am struggling to make ends meet.
In other 'news', the supposed release of a new iPhone on June 2nd was a washout. There was a multitude of announcements from Apple on their WWDC (Worldwide Developer's Conference), about system enhancements and updates to software, but nothing as exciting as a new device for the Apple fans to get frothing at the mouth over.