So that’s it. I’ve just told my editor I’m not staying.
My friends think I’m stupid for doing that, since it’s my first job and they think I should suck it up and stick it out.
I did agonise about leaving for weeks, wondering if I should really take up my editor’s offer to extend my contract for three more months before deciding. It’s not a bad job, and the hours are forgiving (10am to 7pm, which gives me time to swim in the morning). My editor isn’t an unreasonable boss, either, just occasionally frustrated when I make the same mistakes.
But the environment is, dare I say it, sterile, and the workload heavy and never-ending. I barely have time for water cooler breaks, much less lunch. If I take time out to eat, I’d never be able to finish my work on time and I’d have to stay on longer in the office. I don’t want to be one of those people who stay in the office the entire day and go home just to sleep. Even if it’s my first job and I need to pay my dues, this is not how I want to live. I’m in my twenties!
My dad told me to ask myself what I really REALLY want. To be happy at a job, or to to do well at a job but come home tired and stressed out every day. He asked me if I head to work with a sense of dread every day, and I realise that the good mood I start out with at the start of the day (I hum, I prance, and I just made myself sound like an idiot) is slowly but surely chipped away at by the end of the day.
Some days, just when I feel like I am in control of my work and can actually do this, I’m tossed a new assignment that I have no idea how to tackle. And with concurrent assignments I feel like I can’t keep track of everything that needs to be done or covered; there’s always something I forget or miss out, and that’s the case for every assignment I’ve had so far. There’s only so many mistakes you can make before you majorly piss someone off, and I know no matter how hard I try I will make more mistakes because I can’t multitask THAT well.
Anyway, the bottomline is, I don’t know what I want yet in terms of a full-time career (well, I do, but the one I have in mind isn’t practical – according to my dad, it’s just a HOBBY), but I know what I don’t want. I’m not a journalist, never have been – I’m not curious, I don’t probe, I’m not meticulous, I couldn’t care less about details. I just like to write. I don’t know where my love for writing (fiction) will take me, but I know that journalism is not something I want to do for long. It’ll only be a matter of time before I leave.
On an unrelated note, it’s been raining non-stop since 1am last night, which means it’s been raining for 12 hours straight. I’ve been waiting since 8am to go for a swim, which means I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR FIVE WHOLE HOURS. I am soooo restless it’s killing me! I tried pacing, I tried lifting weights, I tried dancing (or in my case, just jiggling about like an idiot), but nothing seems to work. I NEED TO SWIM. This need is gnawing away at my insides; I feel so trapped. Yes, I’m crazy, but this shouldn’t come as news to you.
I’m trying to write (at page 234 of FIFTEEN MINUTES now), but I just get so distracted. If only I could swim.