Sylvia's Journal

I am now presented with a new dilemma at work that has to do with gambling – gambling on being employed one way or another. I don’t think anyone can help me sort this out. I said yes to four weeks in southern Africa during the month of February…not a bad month to be in the southern hemisphere. Some people will say I shouldn’t have said yes because I am supposed to lead a team to win a proposal at that time. But who knows if it will come through when it is expected. Anything can fall through. So if I say yes to everyone, something should stick – but it will make others angry. Everything continuous to be rather tenuous.

With these dark thoughts I left work early as there wasn’t anything meaningful I could do. I arrive dback on the North Shore too early for my haircut so I stopped at the mall, looking for something I wasn’t looking for.

It is the only time before Christmas I will be there. It was utterly depressing to walk around the mall. The only good thing was that it was too early for the Christmas frenzy. Green and red colored ads were already up, mega discount posters tried to lure me into shops, Christmas music was spouting out of hidden loudspeakers and even Santa was already sitting pretty, ready for pictures in a snow covered North Pole hut.

In the food court it was quiet, too late for lunch and too early for dinner. The regulars were there. I could tell from the way they made the rounds of the fast food chains around the court and were being greeted by the staff. Dedicated caregivers were there with their charges, people who couldn’t hold their head still, or their hands, or both; people in bodies too old for their minds. I kept walking, as if I was simply exercising, slowly.

I did succumb to the attraction of food court fare: salt and fat and sugar – and as soon as I had ingested my fried chicken nuggets with honey mustard sauce I regretted my choice.

I left hoping that the haircut would bring me out of my depressed state – a wash, a rinse, a head massage. But my hairdresser rattled on about things I didn’t understand. Everyone talks about Thanksgiving and I try to force myself to be thankful in between bouts of anger and self-pity.

The only thing that made me feel better today was making contact again with the owner of the clipper ship whose email I had lost and watching a documentary about van Gogh told by himself. And then there was of course the haircut which removed a bit of the weight.