sashinka | observation orientated, with a twist of lime | a blog

Hard Day's Fight
Everything is going wrong. I am in a bad mood. Perhaps some kind of cathartic thang will make me feel better. Not that I believe that crap. So twentieth century/Viennese. Like a Walls Viennese cake: looks like it has all the answers you're looking for, but is ultimately unsatisfactory.

OK, here goes.

I'm currently juggling two work projects, some writing, and a big volunteer project. The volunteer project is taking up a lot of time. A lot. And because I'm doing something very similar to what I do for work, I get frustrated by the volunteerness of the other people. Now we've had a couple of cockups, and I feel partially responsible, and partially that it would all have been fine if it was left to me. I'm not good at sharing, it seems. Responsibility, that is.

I have a new flatmate, and we have had wifi problems from day one. It is more than frustrating. I say no more. Also, we have an inordinate amount of tomatoes in our fridge, and I don't like tomatoes.

I am working on a project that as fast as I'm getting speakers, the ones I've already got drop off. So I'm walking backwards to Christmas, and I've only got till Friday.

Today, an old client called me about a project that I worked on months ago, chasing the marketing plan I "obviously wrote", but because their marketing director has left, they can't find. I should have done it, but they never asked for it, so I didn't. I check my records - it doesn't exist. I tell him I've probably archived it, and will send it tomorrow. Now I have to write it.

Clients, clients, clients. They're all "we owe you one", but they never do. Like last week, someone dropped out of an event I put together in February, which I have no further contractual responsibility for. In fact, I suspect that the drop-out is partly due to the fact that I had to chase their logistics people to even get in touch with the speakers, so they don't feel "looked after". Because it only took me one minute, I emailed him back a witty, begging letter, and cc'd my client, saying that if he came back on board (which was good for us all), he should talk to Fred. Then I'm cc'd in on emails to Fred saying he wants to come back, but can Fred call him. I call Fred and he doesn't call me back. In the end, this morning I call the speaker, turn them around, everything's hunkydory. I call the client and tell him. He doesn't even f*cking say thank you.

I'm trying to have a week of "no work" next week before I start a new project on the 14th, where I can go to the British Library, think beautiful thoughts and write. Fat chance, way things are looking.

And my new Rabbi's Daughters t-shirt (which replaces the one I bought in New York that mysteriously disappeared from my house) has arrived at the wholesalers who I tracked down because I needed one, and they'll only hold it till Friday, so I need to get into town by Friday. Or go to New York. Fat chance.

And I've booked an August trip to NY, with some friend-style people, and have just discovered that all the room-sharing seems to have happened without me. It's like being the last kid picked for the netball team.

And, while I was out today, they installed a new bus shelter. Like one installs a new printer. Only this one doesn't have advertising (good) but is backed up right to our wall, so we won't be able to (a) remove our graffiti, or (b) trim our (NIMFY) hedge. In fact, our hedge will probably die because it won't get any light now it has a f*ck off great bus shelter in front of it.