I’m exhausted, for one thing. But I must leave off sleep for at least another hour because I have to get this down, because for the last two weeks I’ve been putting off getting things down until tomorrow, and by that time my mental equilibrium has readjusted and I can’t think to write any more.
Time is flying. This has both positive and negative side-effects; I’m not yet sure which is in the majority. When you work a 9-to-5-centric job, or 8.30−6 as it is in my case, even at only three days a week, time distorts, you never seem to be getting enough sleep, and your days off become slightly disappointing preludes to going back to work.
The only positive thing I can think of right now is that flying time brings payday around with increasing speed, but you unfortunately still have to work in the meantime.
I just finished having dinner with former school friends — what was going to be our usual meeting of three became nine, some of whom I hadn’t seen for more than a year. And now afterward, I’m feeling shockingly juxtaposed. It was a great evening — the talk was endless and fascinating; I was talking twice as fast as usual in a subconscious effort to get everything out, everything that has been niggling me this year. All but three of us have been at Uni this year, and despite being thrown to the four winds we’ve come back and found that we’ve seen the same things, and now being back are feeling the same slightly dispossessed feelings that returning home and looking back over the year brings. We’ve lived the dream, and now we’re stuck in our ninetofives waiting for the next rollercoaster to begin. Having been nothing short of Free Radicals for a year, even the most routinized of us are having trouble getting used to the lather-rinse-repeat cycles of regular, regular, regular work.
I spoke of getting halfway through the first term before the shocking realization hit me that we were out there, that in every sense we had Gone Big, graduated into something else entirely. We all went to the same small school, and, it transpired, all found the same thing — that suddenly here we were so far away from all that, and while not shocking in a dramatic sense, it was unsettling in a way — curious that we’d made it this far without quite noticing.
In a way, sharing our tales and finding so much common ground again, it was as if we’d all gone off to the same Uni, lived it all together and come back. I guess ultimately things go along similar lines wherever you are, just with a local spin.
So it was with a sudden and desperate sadness that I stepped into the car — for everything I’ve lost, and for everything I’ve gained. In times like these, the distinction gets somewhat blurred. Reminiscing on the past, we all suddenly felt much older — a product, perhaps, of our speed society, as we looked with nostalgia on things only a few years ago, that somehow seem so dated. But I was encouraged to note that in looking to next year with equal curiousity and apprehension, I am not alone. And I don’t think I ever will be.