Obsessive Compulsive Escapism

A friend told me last week that I was running at 110 percent. What dictates how much 100 percent actually IS, and therefore if I am exceeding it though, is subject to personal experience and opinion. For him (and I suppose many others, but not in my industry) – 100 percent is a 40 hour week. It’s a long lunch on a Friday. Its leaving the office at least once per day, for lunch, a coffee, a trip to the bank. For him, there is no weekend work, and staying late occurs a few times per month.
So therein, does that make him lazy, or me overworked? Am I battling with an inability to manage my time, or an unrealistic workload. Does he have it easy, or is he working his ass off within that locked timeframe of 40 hours?
What makes a job easy is speculative and relative. At 6pm every night, not a soul in the firm has left the office – it is de rigueur in the profession to work late. And on my many jaunts up to the 10th floor on a Sunday to catch up or get ahead for the week, the floor is littered with people working away silently.

I speculate if one actually has the capacity to operate at 110 percent, for 100 percent of the time? This week I was faced with ‘down time’ at the office, and with nothing inherently urgent, I found myself take the extreme response and withdraw completely. Why I do this, I do not know, but I know that I DO engage in this lax and negative behaviour on a cyclic basis. There are always, always things needing to be done, but when faced with an opportunity to ‘drop the pressure’, I vacate. Mentally ‘check out’.

It is this psychological response, an aversion to any work whatsoever when not under strain, that makes me think that I am a workaholic. Surely not! Especially when I have neglected to complete at least one task in three days this week! I believe I have an intrinsic shut down mechanism, a ‘switch’ that picks a time when Im not operating a workload of ‘critical mass’, and numbs my brain, preventing me from engaging in anything further. Oh just THINK of the work I could achieve if I could disable that mechanism. And boom – there it is - A desire to disable the very thing that stops me from have a debilitating and probably very public nervous breakdown. THAT, my dear reader, makes me a workaholic.

In a world of high achievers, global desire, and a ladder begging to be climbed, there seems to be no aversion in my psyche to tipping the scales of work-life balance – and that is fairly fucked up.

Amillia : non est ad astra mollis e terris via

I survived.

And I wasn’t sure if I would. Or if we would.

Ive completed my first semester back at uni since I took a year off to recover from a failed relationship, self-deprecating behaviour, and a move interstate. I feared being time poor in this new relationship. And for the second time too. The only comfort I took was that if I drove a wedge between us, we would have lost but a few months of our life together. Systematically destroying the relationship between my ex and I resulted in an agonising split after 3 years. One that tore out a piece of my soul.

I suppose it shows that Ive grown. The wisdom I have gained, and the faith I have restored. Jimmy has been immeasurable in his help. Not by any intent of action on his part, but by just being himself. Being patient with me, and understanding. And being content to stand by the wayside as I battled my own demons. Holding me when I break down with exhaustion, and by turning up on my doorstep when I cant bear to see him.

There have been many moments of confusion. Of lacking the understanding why I want him so far away, and so close. I need to be able to feel I am in control my life (it has been so badly out of control before) and needing him tells me that Im losing that control. That I cant survive it on my own – and therefore I haven’t got a grip. But why does it have to be on my own. Surely this stress is too much for one to bear? Part time university coupled with casual bar and hosting work alongside a fulltime office job, with an undercurrent of perfectionism, procrastination, and a whole lot of anxiety, leaves little time to think this through. You just do what has to be done. Head down – bum up. There are sacrifices to be made. I sacrificed the love of my life one time many years ago, was it a necessity to do it again, or have I learnt that I can have both?? I think I have wholeheartedly believed both ideals at some point or another in these past 6 months. Yes I can have a happy relationship with a man I love, while putting myself under immense pressure (and that Im not who I used to be). Or, yes... I cannot have both, and I will sacrifice (again) my sanity and happiness for the ultimate goal that Ive been fighting for. But in both of these instances, what do I lose? Reality tells us time and time again the world is not perfect and you cannot have everything. Something has got to give, and Im floundering in the shallows, hoping desperately that nothing is slipping through my fingers.

If it is, I don’t know what it is yet... I'll be ok, as long as I keep fighting.



Resilience: There is no easy way from the earth to the stars.

Please.

Sometimes Im so infatuated with you I want to merge with your soul
Sometimes, I cant stand the sound of your voice.
Sometimes your touch will heal all my pain
Sometimes, it burns like fire

I try to open my heart to you
But in the darkness, you look just like it
I try to open my mind to our possibility
But I dream of somewhere else

Your eyes are sad because you know
You hold me so tight because you know
I hold you so tight because I cant lose you
But youre slipping from my grasp

I feel like Ive learnt all you can teach me
Though what you can teach me is infinite
You give me the lessons of life
But Im not learning anymore

Take me away from here
Leave me alone
Show me the world through your eyes
But dont look at me that way.
Please not this. again.

Before Dawn

I wrote this after spending a long evening with my partner trying to sift through the maze that was my thoughts. He believes passionately that life experience is worth more than money in the bank, that richness is through the love of family and friends, and that success is not measured by worldly possessions. As time passes he is teaching me that the things that trouble my life are not really that important (some days he is more successful than others) and that I need is right inside me; faith, hope, and strength.





I fantasise about small things. Going home when its
Daylight. That'd be nice, like sleep-ins.
The perfect high heel. Halfway between stiletto and kitten.
I dream about big things. Day dreams, and dreams before
Dawn. When its cold. And he feels warm.
My gift to myself this year; Clarity. Calm
Wrapped in silver paper, tied with a red
Bow. Luminescent even in low light.
That if im not learning, im lost. And he is teaching me to
Breathe the air and touch the earth. Slow down.
Our experiences cannot be stored in the bank
A life of memories, worth more than that big
House. The one in my dreams before
Dawn. When its cold. And he feels warm.

Kaos in the night

I awoke today in the dead of the night. My boyfriend slept soundly beside me (as he always does so well) and I stared into the blackness for what seemed like eternity. As it turned out, eternity was 2 hours, and I drifted off sometime before 4am. As I lay there, I wondered what had woken me. I felt so awake that I could have risen and gone about my day. If I was at my own place and not at my partners then perhaps I would have gotten up to find something to do. Instead I tossed and turned and questioned why the knot in my stomach tightened with every passing minute. I had an acute sense of dread, like I had missed something, that I had overlooked something critical. My mind travelled to the daylight, of my Monday back at work, of everything that I had to do to catch up, of a uni assignment that was impending, and social obligations I had to keep. I felt my stomach knot in such a way that I had to curl up on my side. And there it was…. why was I so anxious in the middle of the night? My life. That’s why.

So come the morning of my Monday, with a gently throbbing headache, and a nauseas feeling in my stomach. The same which I had felt all week.
I was exhausted, and angry at myself for not sleeping through the night. As I travelled to work, each moment I thought of the things I had to do came with a tightening in my chest. And that’s what stress feels like to me. I know it when I am powering away at work and trying to meet a deadline and the adrenaline rushes and my heart rate jumps. A little bit of stress is good for me, in fact. But there was no deadline, no overdue tasks, it was 9am on a Monday, what had my weekend given me? Very little it seems. Could I handle this feeling for another 5 days?

Its seems in life we are presented with enough impossibilities to burden the strongest of souls, that the wayward path leads astray the most intrepid explorers, and that the experienced heart has a greater memory of its pain and conflict than the a superior intellect.
It also seems that the weakest minds desire the simplest pleasures, the softest dispositions engage with the kindest people, and the youngest hearts love the hardest.
So what do I desire to be? Strong, intrepid, and superior, or weak minded, soft, and young? It appears to me that the stronger you are, the more you choose to carry, and those who know their limitations move through their life with ease.
I don’t want to be strong, because I will infinitely pile myself with weight. I do not wish to be intrepid, because I do not want to lose my way, and I do not want to love, because my heart will remember the pain more everlasting than its joy.

This is self deprecating and I understand this. Of course it is considerably more noble to have strength of character, but isnt it more feasible to live an uncomplicated life without this? Sometimes I want the easy trail without the winding and bumps and hills and ruts. Is that selfish?

“Perhaps our eyes need to be washed by our tears once in a while, so that we can see Life with a clearer view again.”

Blogs: Public or Private Realm?

Hello and Welcome.

An interesting scenario occurred in the office today. A fellow staff member in our Hong Kong office found themselves blogging about recent design events in his city. Being a keen writer and social commentator, it appeared he had quite harmlessly embarked on a blogging experience. Until …a google search engine sent a notification to a marketing coordinator in Australia advising that there had been a new addition to the internet - that contained the company name. The marketing coordinator was quite impressed with the content and sent the link to a global email base. The blog in itself was quite harmless, it was a logical and indepth discussion about factors that influenced the current state of architectural design. Yet, human nature being as it is, it would go without saying that interested readers would like to know what other such entries existed. Myself being one of them.

Not 2 minutes into exploring his blog, I was presented with (what would be to some, confronting) commentary on his sexuality and sexual experiences. This was not just any old architectural design blog!I spoke to the Marketing Coordinator and of course, she had not realised that there had been any other entries that might be subsequently damaging. Her initial response was defensive “Everyone knows he is gay – its no secret”. Ah yes, but Im sure he would have like to have kept the secret about his fantasies of sleeping with a straight man, or being involved in a straight ‘group’ scenario that might have also included a women. She recalled the email when the staff member in question asked her to do so, but had the damage (if any) already been done?

Which brings me to my question; who is at fault? Should she have queried with the staff member whether she could link to his personal blog, a large proportion of the company? Or was he already giving license for her to do so, by already having the content publicly available for viewing by anyone who cared to search? How public truly is the internet? Or are we assigning too much trust in its vastness that anything we display online is buried deep within?

Many months ago I encountered a similar scenario – twice actually, as it appeared I did not learn my lesson the first time! During the house-hunting and flatmate-finding process, I was frequently able to ‘look up’ potential candidates on the internet. And ohhh you would be surprised how many people do not set their facebook profile to ‘private’. It was interesting to get a background on any potential axe-weilding strippers cum school teachers who refused to do the dishes. One such fellow I looked up, had a blog. An intelligent (if not left of centre) character, he seemed to take joy in conducting indepth analysis’ of society’s ills. In passing comment, I mentioned that I had discovered his blog, and his immediate response was to Google MY name. Oh my.Now, the result that topped the list is not something that I am ashamed of. It was fun at the time and every gal likes their 15 minutes of fame, but it is certainly not a true representation of my character. Especially in the way that mens magazines like to twist their models’ words to make for interesting reading. The potential housemate thought it highly amusing though. And subsequently I now live with him.

Hey… maybe it even helped a little?? *wink*

I relayed this story to colleagues the following week at work, keeping the conversation as broad as possible. Obviously not broad enough – as giggles from behind computer monitors enlightened me to the fact that they knew the story I was telling, was in fact about me. As I type today, the entire consulting team has seen me in my underwear.

True story.

So I do know what it feels like to have your personal life discovered on the internet. Obviously not as interesting as today’s discovery though. But this poor fellow in Hong Kong, what standing does he have? He engaged with an invisible and infinite audience, telling any i-surfer about his personal experiences. But when this is shared in a corporate environment, it can go from an open honest dialogue about a regular guy, to a career debilitating weapon. I trust that in future he will be selective with his words when discussing work, or even with the content itself. Or heck, did he just have it coming, did he ‘play dice with the devil’? As a reader though, and a colleague, don’t we have some sort of moral obligation to protect the trust that he has in the vast, deep dark webspace, and maybe just double-check with him first?