This is the third weekend in a row that I haven't had to work. Count 'em. 1, 2, 3. Is this what it feels like to have a regular job?
I'm finding it to be awesome and soul-crushing at the same time.
It's amazing and wonderful and fantastic because I actually get to take a breather. I don't feel like I'm slowly being crushed under the weight of impending doom, which is how most of my workdays go. Having the weekend off gives me a chance to shut my computer down (well, figuratively speaking). I don't check my work email, I don't read drafts, I don't edit anything...I just relax. Biking used to be my go-to activity, but the weird, non-summer weather that has struck the Bay Area in recent weeks makes that relatively impossible. I'm switching to hockey soon, though. Super excited about that.
It's horrible and insufferable and spirit-killing because, these days, I actually realize what I'm missing. I didn't comprehend how tightly I was wound until I got a chance to unwind. I didn't know how horrible my quality of sleep was until I got a few 10-hour nights under my belt. And I didn't understand what havoc all this stress was wreaking on my body until I managed to de-stress and take stock. I still enjoy my job and my coworkers are still amazing (they are definitely the saving graces during those not-so-awesome days), but having weekends off makes me dread Mondays even more than I used to. It's like my body is screaming with all the power it can muster: "Don't make me go back there! I want to liiiiive!"
Still, I do it week after week, hoping that the coming weekend will bring me back from the brink. Luckily, it appears to be working. For now.
In other news, I have a new blog: Riding the Pine. It is going to be all about my upcoming introduction to hockey. I will not blame any of you if you choose not to read it. Like I said, it's all hockey, all the time. Just thought I'd put it out there.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Friday, May 6, 2011
Hey-Oh!
I was about to wonder aloud whether it had really only been two weeks since I posted last, and then I realized that I completely forgot about the month of April. Ah, the joys of working until my brain turns to mush...
And yes, another redesign was in order, thankyouverymuch. I was getting a little tired of my...whatever I had before...and decided to change my background to SPAAAACE. The final frontier. Blogtier? Doesn't matter.
I missed so many things while I was away: Bunsen Burner Day (March 31st), Draw a Picture of a Bird Day (April 8th), National High Five Day (April 21st), AND Save the Rhino Day (May 1st). So many bizarre and wonderful holidays, so little time.
This post was really just intended as a brief blog-and-run, but I guess I do have one thing to discuss: the concept of "overtime guilt."
I think it's a term that I just made up. And a quick Google search confirms its originality. Suck it, Merriam Webster.
Overtime guilt is a thing that I had never really experienced until I started working 80-hour weeks. Basically, it rears its ugly head whenever I don't work 80-hour weeks. It hits whenever I take a weekend off or whenever I work an 8-hour day. I can't help but feel like I'm slacking off. Which is a) ridiculous, b) totally insane, and c) some other closely related word that I can't think of right now.
Bonkers?
No, too adorable.
Whatever this is, it's definitely not healthy. That's the problem with taking your work home with you, I guess. Even when you're at home, it still feels like you're at work.
The one thing I can't figure out is why I never had this problem in school. I did all my work at home, and yet...never really felt compelled to check email hundred of times a day or go to class on a Saturday. Ever.
Maybe it's because I'm getting paid now. Yeah. That's probably it. Now that I'm making the big bucks, it's messing with my mind.
On a completely unrelated note, I'm thinking of starting a new blog about the trials and tribulations of my hockey class. I know you guys wouldn't be super intrigued, but someone might be. I can call it "Get the Puck Outta Here." No, maybe not. "The Puck Stops Here"? Ugh. I think the part of my brain that comes up with horrible puns is officially broken. Good riddance, I say.
And yes, another redesign was in order, thankyouverymuch. I was getting a little tired of my...whatever I had before...and decided to change my background to SPAAAACE. The final frontier. Blogtier? Doesn't matter.
I missed so many things while I was away: Bunsen Burner Day (March 31st), Draw a Picture of a Bird Day (April 8th), National High Five Day (April 21st), AND Save the Rhino Day (May 1st). So many bizarre and wonderful holidays, so little time.
This post was really just intended as a brief blog-and-run, but I guess I do have one thing to discuss: the concept of "overtime guilt."
I think it's a term that I just made up. And a quick Google search confirms its originality. Suck it, Merriam Webster.
Overtime guilt is a thing that I had never really experienced until I started working 80-hour weeks. Basically, it rears its ugly head whenever I don't work 80-hour weeks. It hits whenever I take a weekend off or whenever I work an 8-hour day. I can't help but feel like I'm slacking off. Which is a) ridiculous, b) totally insane, and c) some other closely related word that I can't think of right now.
Bonkers?
No, too adorable.
Whatever this is, it's definitely not healthy. That's the problem with taking your work home with you, I guess. Even when you're at home, it still feels like you're at work.
The one thing I can't figure out is why I never had this problem in school. I did all my work at home, and yet...never really felt compelled to check email hundred of times a day or go to class on a Saturday. Ever.
Maybe it's because I'm getting paid now. Yeah. That's probably it. Now that I'm making the big bucks, it's messing with my mind.
On a completely unrelated note, I'm thinking of starting a new blog about the trials and tribulations of my hockey class. I know you guys wouldn't be super intrigued, but someone might be. I can call it "Get the Puck Outta Here." No, maybe not. "The Puck Stops Here"? Ugh. I think the part of my brain that comes up with horrible puns is officially broken. Good riddance, I say.
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