As I was telling leo this evening, I feel like there’s a time bomb ticking away inside my head. Every minute I waste, I feel guilty, so guilty because I should have done something constructive in that minute. Reword my resume or clean out my drawer or pack a little more. Which is why spending three hours at my relatives’ place (seriously, they never let you leave! Leaving is an elaborate 2 hour ritual filled with pleas to stay for coffee, tea and dinner too. You have to feign a nuclear holocaust to escape!)
I have tossed heaps of junk out in the past two days. I have packed 15 kilos worth of books into a gigantic box I can barely move and I am packing the second box of picture frames, soft toys and paraphernalia tomorrow. Of course I need to find a barrel full of bubble wrap for that and that has actually proved to be a rather difficult errand. You can get bubble wrap but you can’t get that mammoth size one that you need to wrap say, a painting. I need big boxes (easy) to pack stuff in and I need little boxes (tough) to put my precious fragile things and fill those boxes up with those styrofoam bitses to pad them up nicely. I have been a one woman packing machine the past two days.
As I brought down my Van Gogh posters tonight- the Courtesan and Almond Blossoms – and rolled them up into a poster casing, my heart broke a wee bit. Two months now and four months in France, I’ll have to live in a place with my character, no piece of my cluttered soul on the walls or the door or the floor. The only personal effect I’ll have is my Mac (which still doesn’t have a name) and Poopsie, my huge perpetually-angry looking teddy bear. I’m packing everything for now- even my tiny Hundertwasser frames, even picture albums of family and friends, even soft toys.
No prisoners. No Mercy. Because if I don’t stay strong, I’ll decide to let one painting stay, and then two and before you know it, I’ll be whoring myself out to the airport authorities to pay for 100 kilos of excess baggage.
My savings have run out and I’m down to my last 1000. Is that bad news or what? I still have some investments but if I sell them now, I’ll make a hefty 30% loss. Fucking subprime fucking crisis fucking!
And that brings me to the urgent need to sell my “pre-owned” , oh sorry, now it’s “pre-loved” I believe, stuff. Furniture and electronics. You can’t live without them but as far as taking them with you is concerned, you’d much rather burn that shit and save yourself the acute migraine. I had a minor success today as I managed to sell my lovely, precious LCD monitor. I think it was rookie’s luck, but I hope it lasts a little while longer so it can pay for my lunch and dinner for the next month? pretty please?
But coming back to timebombs…
It feels like there is so much to do- not just the packing. I’ve been sitting up really late every night researching roles, looking for vacancies, reading, typing, uploading resumes, all the while chatting with Brendan. I work on my laptop on the bus. I am reading something or the other all the time. I daresay that apart from the few blissful days at Cameron Highlands, I’ve tried to fill every waking minute with things to do, forms to fill, medical appointments to keep, emails to write and people to call. In fact, every morning I spent my extra ten minute snooze time closing my eyes and charting out my timetable for the day.
And to top it all off, my tonsils have flared up again. My resistance is absolutely pathetic and that’s another opportunity to get a dressing down from mom for not taking any vitamins. I say “another” because as you know, everyone I know in Bombay is getting married and obviously that is a great reason for my family to get aggravated and channel that aggravation on my troubled soul. I hate to be cliched but Marriage is the new black. “But you said we can ask you about marriage once Winnie and Crush get married and see? now they’re getting married! And all your friends are married.. you have to start thinking about it! Start looking!” What mom doesn’t know is that even thinking time needs to be allocated these days. I need to find a goddamn job that will pay for this MBA.
And speaking of time, it’s 1.05 am and I resolved to finish this case book today. So good night, my dears, have a happy Saturday, look around your apartment and if you need say, a bedside table, a dressing table, a chair and a footstool, a curly haired girl is willing to sell them all for a throwaway price and a happy smile.