Notes from Saturdays

I've got a company phone & a company sim card. Every now and then, probably once a month I get a text message that reminds me about an appointment or check-up. Except the messages are for Ann-Marie, who I guess was the previous user of this sim. At first I paid these messages no attention. I pay most messages I get little attention. Everything just whizzes past my eyes. I've been getting a reminder from a dentist I don't go to for 5 years & I can't care enough to reply & say dude, move on, I have a new dentist. But gradually, the messages started to paint a picture. There was once a reminder to take a pet to the vet for their vaccine. This sounded like a message she didn't want to miss.  But more importantly, I could have a doggie! I could have finally got my life together and moved to that suburb near the beach where I bought a house with a yard and took my doggie for beach walks. I was reminded to contact a doctor for a test. Could I have melanoma? In ...

I've proven yet again that I am in no position to judge Bridget Jones. I dropped M off at the airport & sent him to the islands on his mission. I was sad, the usual amount, about not having him around for a whole week. I was also depressed about not having a single friend in this godforsaken city or country, who I can call to come over and have a sleepover or go shopping or whatever the fuck it is that besties do together. I consoled myself by thinking I'm leaving this godforsaken city in less than a year & maybe I'll find friends where I go. I can dream.  On the drive back from the airport I managed to move on from my depression and proceeded with planning a glorious weekend of self indulgence. In the remaining half of the Saturday I managed to consume a significant amount of wine and chicken, ate a quarter of a black forest cake, watched 3 trashy movies that are going to screw up our Netflix algorithm forever -oops- and have woken up with a deep and sticky headach...

  Every year April delivers the familiar bitter-sweet-stale flavors. Summer is well & truly over. I've grown another year older. The air is highly volatile and pregnant with emotional pollens that fill you with excitement and devastation simultaneously; the two significant events responsible: the annual performance review and promotion rounds & the annual engineering society conference that looks too much like a school reunion. The combination increases the potency. I've been to almost all of these conferences in the past 10 years, authoring or contributing to papers and I am yet to fashion a way to not give a shit about the reviews of my performance, specially since people's opinions directly impact my salary and the illusion of professional worth. Here's the annual drill: for the performance thingie, over a period of 2 weeks we are randomly and discretely summoned to a small meeting room for a little chat. There, the manager of the time expresses their utmost ...

I am many things but consistent is not one of them. I have the most sincere intentions, I make plans, lots of them & frequently -because I like change- but I don't follow through. at least not in useful stuff. In a sense I am consistent in not sticking with anything. One of my other great qualities is the tendency to get bored with things that don't seem perfect, which is everything. The early-onset boredom may be the cause of inconsistent behavior.  It's been 10 LONG years since I left my home & family, plucked all my roots, lost many fragile branches and came to this faraway land. 10 years is way too long to discover and understand this land. But I had to do time to get the golden pass to the rest of the world. Now that I have it, I can't wait to get away, to see what else is out there, what else can annoy me, shock me & maybe even splendidly surprise me. I'm running out of everything that sane people get through life with. After all, you can't do ...

The public transport in this city is a joke; nevertheless, I checked the bus app at my desk and planned my exit so I make it to the right bus -I have no choice. This is how governments all over the world get away with all kinds of shit: tax paying slaves without a better option.  It always takes me an eternity to shut down, pack up, go to the toilet and haul my many bags to the lift. Why do I always have so many bags? Unknown. There's always at least 2, some days a paper bag for shoes and then an embarrassing tote. Really, I could stay the night. Eventually, I'm out of the headquarters, the great blue & silver Aragog! I cross the road, walk up the hill & my face slowly sinks, not having to smile at everyone anymore. I find it more and more exhausting every day, having to smile. Especially when they come over to your desk with some unnecessary question they could have messaged, or just to chat. Compulsory smiling is draining and it's in bad taste. I make a point of d...