smog and mirrors
truth will out. i used to be someone who people went to. professional people. to write for a big name newspaper. to run a national campaign. or advise on national strategy. or prepare people with grand titles for media entanglements. i used to know more about whatever was going on than anyone else in the room. i was a go-see person. a fly round the world to help a project person. now i count as successful a day where i manage to get P to pre school before nine (without necessarily washing my face or changing entirely out of my pyjamas) walk the dog, put on a load of laundry and take something out of the freezer for dinner before fetching her again at 5. i would always worry about living up to my reputation. i had periods within those years of sought-out-ness when i would fold. be defeated by chemistry. but this feels different. I've come to the end of the road with that life. I haven't worked for six months. don't feel anywhere near capable of doing so again. no more earning of the big bucks for me. or any bucks for that matter.
everything feels sharp and hard and startling. clashing of plates as they come out of the dishwasher. screeching child. raised voices on the radio. a car door inadvertently slammed. each sound jarring, pushing me further away.
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
It's not you. It's them. Absolutely. Them.
About Me
- Name: dodo
- Location: London, United Kingdom
Recently reclaimed by PR industry after more recent background in lobbying and, before that, business journalism. From London and working part time in city but living in sticks. Trying not to pass on to my daughter all that my mother kindly left me. Raging against inevitability. Getting better at it. or not. NEED to rewrite this to say i'm not working at the moment and that there's all kinds of neds stuff going on, but to do that seems really official and final, so a postscript will have to do.
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2 Comments:
your beauty shines even in the midst of pajamas and sharp noises, R.
(((((you))))))
Prepare for incoming lighthouse maneouvres. I'm like the soul marines. Leave no woman behind.
hidden in this flippancy is the wealth of fabulous knowing you has brought into my life along with no small dollop of the bravery i learned from you and all sorts of other fun stuff from after hours, early mornings and crazy times along the beginning segments of our journey.
And no doubt that reads as more blah blah blah with a side order of blah.
Love you. 17th May. You come here. Walk along the river. Breathe in some smog. Admire my dining table and the totally shed i've made of Chris' old room (how long will it need to become my room?)
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