Thursday, February 2

Last day of the week and I have so much work to finish internet. But it’s beautiful out, where the morning looks a little like dusk and there’s a cold wind blowing. I’m alone in this office, after many days of being surrounded by team-mates. I remember how in my consulting days I used to long for the time when I have my own desk and a job where I’m not constantly on the move. (for those of you who’re not down with the exciting and glamorous world of consulting – it essentially involves working from multiple different offices in a single day. Because that’s the expected norm your own office is full of hot desks and no one has a permanent seat, because that would just be a waste of space) Now that I have my own desk, I long for the day where I have my own room at work, so I can do whatever I need to by myself, in peace. These are my quiet aspirations, I’m one of those people who should be forcibly sterilized.

It’s a strange experience – working for one of the oldest banks in the world and expecting it to fold like a deck of cards at any moment. Especially, when the actual work seems to be never ending and my weeks whizz by in a productive blur. Again, in consulting there seemed to be a limitless need for more resources, as people were the grain thrown into the mill of client appeasement, and our lives were the grist tossed aside. Wow, this is really rambly, isn’t it? TO SUMMARISE even though I know the state of the global economy and understand the delicate position my current industry is in, it still feels very strange to be working at a job that might disappear any day.

I spent a lot of time videochatting with my father yesterday, and I find myself constantly overwhelmed at how great my family is. They are nice internet. They’re interesting people and are a lot of fun and are only concerned with my happiness. They give me a lot of hope for the universe.

I return to this strange post after a coffee run. While my family are people who give me hope for the universe, I’m currently sitting in a section of the office populated by people who’re causing a significant deal of concern. Three middle aged men, who spend their entire fucking day at work chatting chatting chatting. It’s like trying to work in the midst of a particularly boisterous kitty party. Who are these men who spend their days talking about their weight and calories and VLCC and workouts, the price of everything – spectacles, lenses, rice; the difference in prices between dubai and india, kinds of kebabs, filmstars and gadgets and tailors and fabric. As I’m typing this they’re sitting with their arms folded and their monitors locked after being in screensaver mode for 15 minutes and the word vomit is ceaselessly flowing. Come to think of it, if I owned this bank and had employees like this, I’d cut my losses and run too.

Today is the day of circular arguments.

I want to address the sudden and unfortunate demise of love in my life. It’s been a while since it happened. For a while it was a little crazy, but then a moment came when clarity suddenly dawned on me and it was done. What I find myself wondering about is my lack of an extreme reaction, how with age it seems to be getting easier to move on with minimal damage. Maybe my priorities are changing. Maybe I don’t see the point in any one spending any time being unhappy any more. Not when there are so many years of god knows what ahead of us. I realize that it’s going to be a lifelong quest to integrate the different parts of us, how to relate to other people using paltry, dusty things like words and grammar systems, remembering always that they have their own agendas and their own labyrinth ways to communicate back. How to filter the entire universe through five puny senses and one idiosyncratic brain. How to reconcile the centuries-old, culturally pervasive idea of the Platonic Love Object, the “other half,” with the simple reality that no one person can fill every single one of your emotional needs. How to balance the idea that you are the architect of your life with the mundane things like staying alive, and the requirements of things like a full-time job, that paradoxically give you the financial freedom to be creative and pursue leisure and stimulation while also robbing you of the time to be creative and pursue leisure and stimulation. Who can spend time being anything other than curious in the face of that?

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