All I tweet about nowadays is the bus. I am on the bus for at least three hours a day. Sometimes, in the morning, I wish it was longer, because when you’re on the bus, you’re not in work.
So I’m on the bus, or I’m in work, and then I get home at various times of the evening and have tea and talk to my housemates and play with the hamster and read the internet and catch up on TV and have a shower and go to bed. I am dramatic about this, but this is everyone’s schedule, minus the hamster and maybe plus a dog or cat or child. I missed a Trump protest in my town, I’ve only seen one of the Oscar-nominated films this year, and at the weekends I sleep all day and then watch, like, half a horror film over a takeaway before going to sleep again, this time while it’s dark outside. Also I’m worrying about work the whole time and sometimes I’ll remember while my hamster is climbing up my arm or The Undateables is on and it’s like suddenly remembering a crime you’re on the run from. Like the end of The Sopranos.
This isn’t work’s fault, really, it’s my brain, which CAN do this thing of working and keeping a schedule but needs to sacrifice basically a lot of me (the rubbishy sleeping weekends, the evenings where I eat tea in bed and then immediately fall asleep) to do it. To be honest, I’m very miserable at the moment! I am putting an exclamation mark there because what an indulgent thing to say! But I am very sad!!!
I’m planning on doing a Masters in September, and the thing I’m looking forward to the most is the TIME. I don’t know what I’ll be like at the end of this part of my life – there’s parts of me that have been put on hold, and I don’t know if they’ll necessarily still be there or have become diluted or stronger or what. I miss my friends and family and being able to see people as people rather than potential angry customers who might yell at me down the phone. (Just so you all know: this is how I assess everyone, now. “Would you get personal while I tried to apologise for a company’s mistakes Y/N?”)
I feel like this post is an apology but I’m not sure who to.
Anyway the point is I wrote this poem when no one was on the phone. It took a while. It’s not very good. (I’ve forgotten how to be good – if I was ever particularly good. I think it will come back with practice, if it was ever there.)