02.19.09

update – feb 09

Posted in Uncategorized at 12:55 am by rachel

Well.

I’m sitting in Dollingstown with a glass of wine. It’s pretty late, but I’m not quite ready for bed yet. My Granny is in hospital, after several days without fluid or nutrition, hanging on to life and confounding the doctors’ expectations and prognoses. Aside from the pain of mourning someone not yet gone, the organisation which I applied and interviewed for have decided to employ someone else. Trivial, in the circumstances, but also making me feel very blue. 

It feels like I only write anything in this blog when I’m fed up, pissed off, unhappy, shaken or upset. Never ‘I had such a good day’, or ‘I’m so content with my life’. How annoying, really. Why would anyone want to read such self-indulgent misery?

Well, life is good, aside from the lack of job. I am healthy. I have wonderful friends and family who love me. I’m so happy with Burly. I’m trying to be philosophical about my Granny, although I’m so sad about her, especially for my Granda – he’ll be devastated when she dies. They had their 65th wedding anniversary just before Christmas, and I can’t imagine how empty life must feel without your partner in it after all that time. So, I’m sad. I’m trying to be philosophical, but I’m still sad.

Still some wine left. I looked for jobs today, and there is nothing. No, that sounds like self-pity: there are lots of jobs, just none I wish to do. I am torn – really not sure what to do. I’m afraid that if I take an admin job, it will really undermine my chances of getting a higher level job down the line, as people only look at the current or previous job title, then move swiftly on if it’s something like ‘secretary’. I made that mistake in London, and I don’t want to do that again. I’m 30, for goodness sake. I should be rolling in cash and job offers. 

Then again, the status quo cannot continue. I shall go mad, and I have no money.

So. Lots on my mind, which isn’t conducive to sleep, and I miss being in my own flat in Glasgow with Burly – I would just feel so much better if I were there with him. But, I will be soon. It’s a good lesson this, which I always find at a funeral, teaching you that life is short – tell your loved ones how they complete it.