Mid Life

In just under three weeks, I’ll be turning 40. I don’t have an issue with aging. I know I’ll do it disgracefully and I have no issue with that. What I do have an issue with is doing a job I hate, working for the man to spend the rest of my life struggling financially.


I asked a question on my Twitter this morning; ‘In this day and age: what’s the point of being a good and helpful person? Really, I’d like to know why I waste my time.’

I asked this because last night a buxom, burlesque dancer that I photographed for free as part of an event asked me to remove the photos I had taken of her because of ‘unflattering angles’. She asked me to leave a couple as they where beautiful. I had carefully selected all the photos posted so as not to show skin rolls (no easy task), smiles (plenty of those) and to show the very essence of her performance. Despite her size she had grace, elegance and dancing skills of a woman considerable smaller. I removed all the photos I had taken.

I give my time for free because I enjoy taking pictures in a challenging environment (lots of movement, bad lighting and having to ask people if they'd like their photo taken). In total I spend three hours at the event (it's a fortnightly thing), then up to three hours processing the pictures. It usually costs me $10 to park the car, plus the petrol to and from the event. So when asked ‘as an artist I have to careful of how I’m seen’, I say, as an artist and someone who isn’t being paid, I was doing you a favour by giving you free publicity, so you get nothing’.

I’m sick of ungrateful people, just taking. It seems that the world has more of them these days

When Leo Durocher said, ‘Nice guys finish last’, I’m sure he was talking about baseball, but you know what, I’ve come to the conclusion it’s in all walks of life.

I’ve lived my life as a good person. I help old ladies out, I ask homeless people, ‘have you eaten today?’ and follow through when they say no. I volunteer my time to a number of non for profit organisations. And you know, when I try and do something for me, I get nothing back. So I’m taking it back. I’m not going to commit to anymore volunteer things that cost me money. I’m going to do something for me and anyone with an opinion can go f*ck themselves.

I’m not saying I don’t have a few supporters, I do, and thank you to those of you that ‘get’ me.

So this is my plan.

I’m going to get a part-time job and study full time. I may, if I have to, sell everything of value that I own and get a housemate (that really is the last resort).

I think I can cope with a job I hate if I only have to do it three days a week.

I haven’t brought a sports car or a flash motorbike…but I do believe this is what they call a midlife crisis

Finally something the middle classed white lady can talk about at stand-up comedy!

Wasted

Will I look back on my life when on my deathbed and think, ‘Did I waste my life?’

I know it seems like a grim thing to think about, but seeing as we are here for such a short time I believe it something we should all reflect on, regularly.

I’ve been thinking about it a lot over the last few days while I’ve been sick. I can’t pin my feelings of lethargy, upset tummy, sniffy nose and vertigo on any one thing, but I honestly think I’m sick of doing something that leaves me unfulfilled.

Yes I know I do lots of things outside work hours that should keep me entertained and my mind off the hours of boredom and thumb twiddling, but I can’t help but shake the feeling those long, eight hours are the ones taking a toll on my body that cannot be reversed with a few short hours crochet, speech writing, recorder playing and stand up comedy.

Is it unreasonable to expect a level of enjoyment and satisfaction from your job? I don’t think so. Surely a happy employee is a constructive employee.

How do I correct this imbalance in my life without sending myself broke?

I have no idea, given my current plans/dreams are likely to end in disappointment.

At the moment I’m hoping that the publisher that requested to see my partially written manuscript wants the rest and pays me a small advance to finish it and then it goes on to be an international success. Because I know it’s written better that Fifty Shades of Grey, after all, it as nothing to do with Twilight, so it must be. Right?

Or I’ll suddenly become an in demand Civil Celebrant. I know that isn’t going to happen. Either people aren’t dying or getting married or they have no idea I exist (despite advertisments) or don’t care.

What if I were to win the lottery; would we still be friends?

Maybe, my stand-up will become popular and I’ll soon be making pod-casts and making appearances on TV panel and radio shows with my quick wit and amusing insights into popular culture.

I’m a realist; I know there is no overnight solution. But I fear my current health levels require something fairly rapid.

At this stage I’m left looking for a job in my current line of employment that may satisfy my need to be productive. I just want to be busy. I need to be occupied. It keeps my mind and body focused and gives it a reason to want to get out of bed in the morning, because currently, if asked the opening question, my answer would assuredly be, 'Yes'.

A Purpose

I’ve come to the conclusion that I need to be doing something meaningful with my life.

Writing plans and communicating with people who are essentially not interested in my message has taken its toll. I’m completely disillusioned with what I do. Change management is still relatively new to the corporate world and it’s still the first thing to when a project runs into financial difficulty. As a contractor, this instability is doing my head in. Plus, the role I’m doing at the moment is leaving me cold.

Yesterday, I went to Renbury Farm to take pictures of the pussy cats and other creatures that have been taken there either but their owners who don’t want them anymore or have been found and impounded until reclaimed or rehomed.

There are many deserving furbabies there, as there always is, but when I came to take a few pictures of doggies, I broke down in tears when one surrendered boy, medium sized, white and champagne coloured, looked up at me, but would not get eye contact. I looked at his sheet. Good with children, no barking, no fence jumping, toilet trained and good on a lead. The reason he was there. ‘We have no time to spend with him’. He was wedged in the corner of his pen, shaking and confused why he was there.

I cried all the way home. I tear up as I write just thinking about him. I want to call them and say I’ll pick him up next week, but it’s in no practical. I just want to help.
I find myself thinking about roles I can do in Not for Profit organisations that will help. Help anyone or anything.

Maybe this is why I’m leaning towards the celebrant work so much, after all it a form of help. Helping happy couple make their dream wedding happen. Helping grieving family lay their loved one to rest.

I need to win the lottery so I can quit work and volunteer part-time. Anyone know the numbers?

Music

What has my life become?

Tonight I have been chatting online with strangers (plus some mates) while watching 'The Top 50 Boybands' introduced by the Backstreet Boys. Ok so I got to see such gems as Take That, Milli Vanilli and Wham. aHa take on Me was number bythe way...but I also sat through New Kids on the block and several I'd never even heard of before.

All the while my sisters dog (Rosie) the seventeen year old black and tan jack russell laid at my feet and farted.