powersuit woman

Last night I went to the Jolly Roger to prove to my friends that I am still alive. E, E2, C, N and Teddy - fantastic.
I concur.
My life is crazy at the moment.

My wise friend C told me once that the secret to a fulfilled life was simply balance. If all your priorities were balanced in manageable proportions, namely: social, work, spirituality, exercise and masturbation, one could lead a happy life.

C is actually Scott Peck of A Road Less Travelled.
My life right now is dominated by my work. Balance isn’t something I’ve ever held dear, simply because it doesn’t fit my personality profile. I am a woman of extremes.
Writing is my passion, but it has never dominated me as much as it does now.

I am juggling four huge things career-wise at the moment. Luckily, I love them and own them all.
I have become…a typewriter wielding powersuit.
I did a business meeting at 6:00am this morning - holydarryl - then arrived to this at work:

Yesterday I phoned a guy to organise an interview which my editor assigned to my boss first. She convenienetly forgot about this. And so, like countless times before, I had to pick it up instead. She does this. It's textbook selective memory.

I have to drive to a place called Nigel, which, if my geographic interpretations serve me correctly, is a one-horse town halfway to Durban.
Again, the below-the-line food and beverage industry doesn’t scream Westcliff Hotel.
She acted as surprised as I was to learn that my entire Monday is dedicated to the fast-food goings-on of Nigel.
It amazes me that people read this shit. I’m told, however, that the citizens of Nigel will treat me like a celebrity and will probably cut out my article and paste it on the wall of the local KFC.
Fuck I’m a lucky bitch.

It’s always the same.
If I say, “Gee, that story on untimely foot bunions hasn’t been done...and we’re closing for print tomorrow…oh wait…it’s your story.”
She’d say, “No, Peas. You have to write about bunions.”
Peas: I think I’d remember if I had to write about bunions. AND WHY THEN, IS YOUR NAME NEXT TO THE ASSIGNED STORY AND NOT MINE?”
Then she’d say, “Because I’ve changed it since then.”
And I’d say, “Well then, where’s my new pagination sheet STATING THIS CHANGE?”
And she’d say that she gave it to me, which I swear blind, she most certainly didn’t.

“Don’t you think you should be writing about bunions since you are one?” Is what I’d like to say.

I think I’m gonna miss this place. Writing about bunions in Nigel anyway.