Another day, more work food. I’m surprised nobody’s pulled a muscle patting themselves on the back but hey, I can’t argue with the results. People here know how to put on a spread. There was a small shindig for our new department head who, I’m to understand, is a dauntlessly hardworking woman and thus won herself an award for the aforementioned things. To celebrate, a host of cheese platters, mounds of dessert and plates stacked with wine were arranged in the kitchen. Our team dug in, despite the host of publicity/PR people showing stalwart discipline over their food intake. It’s an image-centric industry, sucks for them that they don’t want to/feel like they can’t eat. Greeeat for us.
It’s been a good, breezy day all things considered. I’d worked ahead to give myself a bit of Friday room to breathe. Consequently I felt no qualms taking an hour off to go across the road for physio. Thanks to work benefits I’ve got regular restorative personal training sessions and frankly it’s nice to be able to use my lunch working out. Because benefits are paying the cost. That aspect seems almost farcical. Benefits afford us unlimited physio, so all of this training is on the house. Checking my benefits billing, I can see that each session costs $108. Holy shit, that’s obscene. If it wasn’t inclusive there’s no way I’d ever pay it. Still, while someone else is footing the bill I don’t have any qualms. It’s a nice fusion of professional muscle stretching, TRX and balance stuff, lots of core. It doesn’t work me nearly as hard as the crossfit stuff has been, but it’s swell to be saving a bit of money on the side while getting my long-standing knee injury looked at.
Fuck, ok. I’m getting bored writing this, I can’t imagine how taxing it must be to sit there wasting your precious time on this drivel. Good news, there’s plenty more writing out there, either on this very page or dispersed upon the manifold pages of the internet. You can go read that, because everything that’s preceded this sentence has been lacklustre to say the least. Then again, what happens if you skip out now and it gets way better. I understand your qualms. I’ve been obstinate enough to begrudgingly finish my fair share of texts purely because I started them. What’s with that mentality? You’ve invested time in something and it’s not working out for you. You don’t really enjoy where it’s leading but you feel like not finishing it would invalidate the time you spent consuming it. So your answer is to spend more time consuming that thing you’re not enjoying. Isn’t that just wasting more time on the off chance it turns out well?
Then again, I’ve had a bunch of things that felt like a waste of time and resulted in something I aggressively enjoyed. Bojack Horseman was a show I just couldn’t enjoy for the first 5 or 6 episodes. It felt bland, with milquetoast Hollywood humour that seemed like it wanted too hard to grab the mantle of good Adult Swim shows. Problem was, it felt like it wasn’t remotely as subversive as it thought it was. I heard an endless refrain from friends extolling its virtues. I stuck with it and, maybe 6 or 7 episodes in, shit got dark. It became enthralling and enticed me to stick with it, resulting in a show I really love. Mad Men seemed like insipid pumpkin pie american domestic sphere bollocks. It took me 7 episodes, but I fell for it and fell hard. The Malazan Books of the Fallen and I have an existing love/hate relationship, but I can’t say I regretted my time and energy spent. For everything I find that I couldn’t stand about that series, there was something affecting to counteract it.
That being said, these are the outliers. It’s also hugely dependant on what rings your bell, what makes you tick. Maybe the last two paragraphs actually appealed to someone out there and they weren’t considered a colossal waste of time. If you’ve gotten this far, it’s also entirely possible that you wish you still had those 2-5 minutes. Just think of how many Buzzfeed articles you could’ve read in that time. Now try not to lose yourself to regret.