It’s not exactly one of those kill-me-now days, it’s not that bad yet – just one of those damn-this-is-so-challenging-since-I-only-possess-one-body-and-i-don’t-know-which-job-to-start-first. Just one of those wow-they’re-really-killing-me-softly-here. Two pending reports to write, a handful of press releases to chase after, an event to coordinate, not to mention those pesky news monitoring and summarizing I have to do every morning. But then I can’t complain, since everybody else is carrying huge workloads. It’s like it’s become the norm to take on (or be assigned – as if I had a choice) a superhuman workload that you can’t possibly do in a normal forty-hour workweek, forcing you to spend late hours, weekends, and even holidays at the office, and then take some more of the work home so you can do even more stuff while you’re in your pajamas cradling your laptop in your, well, lap. It’s pathetic. I finally manage to buy my laptop after years of yearning, and it just ends up giving me more work instead of allowing me to explore other pursuits as I originally intended it.
Shudders. My first few months here I’ve managed to avoid that kind of manic existence, but lately I’ve been noticing that I’m being sucked again into that frustrating vortex of having your work control your life. And reverting to the habit of writing rant blog posts. This is so not good.