In an old post, I compared myself to cartoon character Cinderella, finding similarities in her being forced to do chores by her ugly step-sisters and me being put to work by my sister as a cleaner at a children’s nursery. But whilst I still work as a cleaner, I feel that my cartoon counterpart has changed somewhat: I now feel more like Tinkerbell. I’d like to think that I am not as stubborn or as selfish as she is, but like this little pixie, I think that I can only feel one emotion at a time.
The other night as I arrived at work, I was talking to my sister (who is manager at the nursery) who made me think about something which made me rather sad. I got to work with the cleaning, and as one of the nursery nurses was getting ready to leave, we had a bit of a chat and in this conversation I discovered that this girl was a lesbian. It was somewhat surprising, and when she and the other members of staff left, leaving me alone at the nursery to clean up after a day of children throwing glitter and sand to the floor, my earlier sadness was replaced by a sense of surprise. I ran through the few memories of conversation with the girl in earlier days and searched for signs to suggest she was a lesbian, feeling quite surprised that my gaydar was on the blink (I’m usually quite good at picking up on these things) when I realised that I didn’t feel sad anymore about what my sister was talking about. I’m not gonna go into detail about this sad topic but it’s very close to my heart. I vacuumed the carpets, not feeling a lingering sadness from the earlier conversation with my sister combined with surprise at the new information I had received; I had just the one feeling of surprise. Like Tinkerbell, there seems that there is not enough room in me to contain more than one emotion at a time.
As I write this, the one emotion I am feeling is a sense of being fed-up. I am longing to escape from my job as a cleaner but the future prospects are difficult to see. Cleaning was always going to be a “for now” job, earning a little money until I could find something more suited to me and the qualifications I have, but at the moment it seems that I am going to go from one “for now” job to a another. Not desirable, but it is looking more and more appealing with every shift I do cleaning up after other people’s offspring. I am fed-up of my job and I am fed up of looking for another one. I look on numerous different websites for listings of job vacancies that are on the very edges of the realms of something I actually want to do as a career; writing being smack down in the middle of the realm of my job hunting. Being a full time writer is the ultimate dream but is also very hard to achieve, especially when I am unsure of which aspect of writing to pursue. I’m not too sure if the novel I wrote for National Novel Writing Month will be good enough for publication, we’ll see, but a permanent job will ensure a fixed income, and I want money (that sounds so materialistic, but money after all makes the world go round).
I am also feeling fed up of how my current cleaning job seems to dictate my life. I can’t go far during the day, needing to get back home to change and eat before I head out for work. Twice in the past two weeks I have met up with uni friends in town, spending two short hours with them before I had to head off for work, gutted that I couldn’t spend longer with them, usually spending a whole afternoon with them, chatting and wondering around the shops for hours on end. My one emotion of feeling content being with friends, gets swapped for the one emotion of feeling fed-up with my job when it comes to leave them.
Sometimes, I can go from feeling very happy about nothing in particular to feeling down about absolutely nothing at all; all the time not getting a sense of balance or combination of emotions. Extremes of my personality, perfectly mimicking those of Tinkerbell; although I am certain that I am not as manipulative or as vindictive as she was, and I’m not in love with a child who refuses to grow up and who will eventually forget me; I’d like to think I’m smarter than that.
Would be cool if I could fly like her though… ooo and if I lived in a tree, that would be awesome. A magical life in mystical Neverland would be a welcome change. I’d sprinkle fairy dust everywhere; would be interesting to see if any inanimate objects have happy thoughts…
See! As I have written I have gone from feeling fed-up to feeling a sense of childlike wonder. My work life isn’t bothering me at all right now as I wrap this post up. It’s all rather weird.