Stop the World
I seem to find myself writing “Stop the World” posts every so often. This week has been hard – one of the most difficult in a long time.
On more than one occaision during the journey home I have fallen asleep – and awoken in a panic, wondering where along the track the train has reached. I have remained standing on underground trains on purpose – purely because I have never fallen asleep while standing up.
So – what have I been doing that has worn me down?
I have been working in London every day for the last couple of weeks – getting up at 6am, leaving the house at 7am, and walking back in the door at 7pm. Each day has been filled with intense and complex development work – which in itself takes a huge amount of concentration and therefore saps energy (I'm not looking for sympathy here – just telling you the way it is).
On Wednesday night this week, myself and a colleague were invited to spend a night in Brentwood at another colleague's house – to have a “boy's night out” – which roughly translates to beer, curry, and putting the world to rights. While it seemed like a great idea, and we did have a great night, the preparation to get there meant staying up until 1am washing and drying clothes to take with me – purely because both myself and W are working long hours, typically walk in the door and then collapse in a heap each evening.
Meanwhile the garden is slowly turning into a jungle, and we face the prospect of spending all weekend hacking it back instead of actually relaxing.
Things somehow tend to stack up on us. Last weekend Saturday was spent washing and drying clothes, Sunday was spent at a friend's wedding, and Monday (a bank holiday) was spent visiting relatives to return things they had left. The one respite we had was having dinner cooked for us at W's parents on Sunday afternoon.
Throughout the daily hell of commuting, brain busting work, washing clothes, drying clothes, and crashing out, I am kept going by the friends I have made on the internet – the emails they send, and comments they write are worth their weight in gold. They know who they are, but don't perhaps know how much I value their “being there”.
Alongside those who I know read this blog, I am always a little taken aback when somebody new writes an email, as they did this morning – just saying that they like what I write. It also makes me feel guilty that I don't try harder, or write more regularly. I know I have the capacity to write to a much higher quality if I put in the effort.
I have to curtail my coffee break now because several thousand lines of programming just fell in on themselves, forcing me to rise from my contemplative stupor and start headbutting the computer once more. Some quote regarding a “rage against the machine” might seem apt if I had enough brain cells left to construct it...
p.s. what are your thoughts on the new layout?