thinking "happy" thoughts

I may have become a robot. Or a mind-sucked golem. This is the reality of what happens to full-time jobniks. Today, I was asked by a friend I haven't talked to since I started working (L, you know who you are, and this is all your fault), how I was coping. And I answered in a cheerfully optimistic tone that is SO NOT ME, "Oh, I'm learning to pace myself; it's really not all that bad. I just focus on the advantages of the situations (i.e. the MONEY I haven't had in nearly 4 years of un-or under-employment) and try to keep my mind off the COST."

Okay, after that conversation it started to creep into my mind all day what was really going on, how we actually manage to cope with the horror of full-time wage slavery: DENIAL. Also, REPRESSION. In other words, the real meaning of "getting used to the new reality" is that I have allowed myself to be drugged (by the MONEY) to the point where I've forgotten about not just the long long list of fascinating bookmarked blogs in my favorites list, but even the few in my close-in "crew" (as I warmly think of them) -- bloggers who actually bother to read me and even comment from time to time -- i.e. my lifeblood, my raison d'blogre.

And I don't read books. And I can't get through the Friday paper. I pay very little attention to the news (though it's looking optimistic, don't you think?) I'd like to go shopping and take advantage of the end-of-season sales (though by next week it'll be practically full-time summer around here) but that requires far more energy than I've got. Not that I honestly care, but the apartment is disgusting again since we still haven't solved the cleaning lady issue. (That's a whole story in itself.) I haven't gone to a movie in months (though we do rent old-ish ones) and the Oscars are, like, THIS WEEK!! And my copywriting course languishes on my desk, gathering dust, instalment two now crowding number one. I am hardly writing at all, in fact, other than here (no, the crap I write at work doesn't count).

And yet, when I'm at work, I just "forget" what I lovingly refer to as my "real life." aka things I'd rather be doing.

How does all this (just the most petty tip of the iceberg, of course) get neglected? I'll tell you how. When I walk in the door from work, I do dishes. And laundry. And make chicken soup (or just throw together a salad). And go to my in-laws. And try to get through (currently) 132 non-personal emails (I've given up, it's okay) and (don't) go to the gym because I'm too tired (or, last week, sick). And today I went to the grocery store before coming home from work. And tomorrow I'm going to a naturopath about my migraines before I come home from work. (And both days I'm actually leaving work early, so there will be hours to make up.) Oh yeah, and I DO find time to meditate, even if it's like midnite to 1am, because I'm committed to that in the belief that eventually nirvana will be MINE (mwa-ha-haha!). In between these things, I fend off talk to my daughter (who doesn't stop yakking until I give her the sign that my head is about to explode -- ok, I yell).

This is the reality of "coping" with full-time employment. I've numbed myself to all I could be doing; I've anaesthetized the existential pain with purchases of expensive one-nighters (plus spa treatment) in resort hotels and filled the gaping holes with all-we-can-eat sushi binges. Because now we can afford it. But it doesn't make up for what I'd rather be doing.

Maybe what I'd rather be doing looks like lazy-cow behavior to you. But I just don't see how the pointless activity I do all day for the sake of making money is more worthy.

Of course, thank god, I have no social life to miss -- other than my virtual one -- so that's the one really bright ray of sunshine.