I’ve done it again.
I’m unwell, hence off the radar for numerous people. If I’m honest I haven’t been right in weeks. If I’m honest the first day I woke with a headache should’ve been the one I took off school. But it wasn’t so I was struck down, after the hayfever hit, with some sort of cold thingy. I have an unfinished exhibtion surrounding me and no energy to finish it. Oh, and my flat is a tip…
One day I’ll remember to actually treat my body with some respect. And I’ll actually remember not to do twenty-seven things all at once. One day my flat will be sparkling with cleanliness. Whenever I do this friends go out of the window, I get in too deep, I forget to rest and sleep properly and I’m cleaning my snotty tissues out of the place in little heaps.
Stressed out and ill. Again.
I let people and articles in newspapers get to me. I know I have more hours of lessons than most of my contemporaries, I know this, it is a fact. But still when I read all the articles about ALTs using their spare time (sorry what spare time?) effectively I feel like its directed at me. I read all the complaints in the Daily Yomiuri about ALTs abusing their holiday time and taking too much leave with flimsy excuses and feel paranoid about having had 3 days off in eight months.
My second resolution for New Year was about stress; ‘I am going to avoid situations that I know will make me unhappy or otherwise lead to me becoming mean-Mish.’ Well I haven’t done anything mean, except to myself. But I think that on the whole making myself ill counts.
I think if there was some ultimate purpose or goal behind this it wouldn’t seem quite so pointless to me, except of course there isn’t, it’s just me trying to achieve the impossible and do everything all at the same time again.
All I want is to write something good and instead I’m making more displays, I’m putting out a monthly newsletter, I’m putting up another exhibition when I don’t even consider myself an artist really. And my writing? Still isn’t good, just ask the bastard publishers who’ve rejected me again. It would help if I could even put my work into a genre. Right, I’m going to bed again.