Wednesday, June 4, 2008

Rough week.

Figures during my first few days of 30 days of writing that all hell would break loose.

My boss decided to go on vacation this week, and so all of a sudden, instead of working at the leisurely pace I've grown so used to, I am running around like a chicken whose head is cut off, being whisked away to meetings, writing business proposals at frantic paces, helping to manage a marketing department. While my friends go out for long Indian lunches, I've had to decline their invitations, reduced to eating my salad in front of my computer screen. Although I know that many New Yorkers do this (Dan included) I hate that more than anything. Lunch is not to be eaten at your desk.

In some ways it's fun to feel busy and important. People need to see me, talk to me, get my opinion. And there's a high you certainly get from running around and getting stuff done. If anything, this feels like the old me. Me, before Poland. Yeah, it's stressful, but I have always prided myself for having high tolerance for work. But at the end of the the last three days, I've felt wrecked. My head pounding, my brain feels stuffed with cotton balls, my face breaking out with pimples, my eyes drooping with fatigue--and I go home and try to relax to prepare myself for the promise I made for myself: to write at least 30 minutes a day.

To make matters worse--all I have had to eat in the last few days are leftover Polish pork products, pierogi and apple cake--not exactly healthy fare. I had a piece of red velvet cake at work and tonight I had bad Mexican, as in a tub of melted cheese and sausage wrapped in a tortilla badness. My diet has totally fallen out of course, and I am doing my best not to beat myself about it, but I am stressed and tired and I have a belly full of ham and cheese, so I am beating myself up about it.

But tomorrow's looking promising. I will start anew and eat right and exercise and write and see the Sex and the City movie. Just because I have had a rough few days doesn't mean that all my hard work was for nothing. Plus it's my last day of work this week. And I have written for four days straight. It doesn't get better than that.


Squeen said...

I never eat at my desk. Only at the conference table.

Willytheprince said...

Guilty as charged! I did take two long Indian lunches in a row. Sorry for leaving you--oh and making you read my exciting proposals. You did a great job (can I say better?) as the big cheese.