AWOL?
Well, I seem to have been out of service for a while for no apparent reason. More than a month, in fact. So... sorry, just been a bit slack, and out-blogged by my lovely wif ever since. Hopefully this will change, but we'll see...
Mitigating circumstances? Mebbe. I can only say in my defence, m'lud, that I've been absolutely knackered for a few weeks now. And I've realised two things:
Firstly, my current job is faaaaar more instense and busy than my last one. Not that I didn't work hard in Cavendish, no no no... but there were at least occasional lulls where you could catch your breath. Not so in this job. It's soooooo intense and [as we say here - yes, "we"] full-on, emotionally, mentally and physically draining.
So much so, that at the end of an early shift, when the adrenaline that I've been working on finally wears off, I go into a sort of serotonin rush, if a "rush" is what you can call it - more like a kind of like near-narcoleptic state, in fact. I just stand at the bus stop, desperately trying to stave off the waves of sleepiness, propping up my eyelids with those metaphorical matches I keep in my wallet for just such an occasion. Weirdly, though, by the end of a late shift, when such a stuporific state would come in handy, I'm wired as a speed-freak. Bugger.
When I first started, lots of colleagues commented on a regular basis that "it's not usually this busy, you know..." And you know what, I think they actually believed that. But as the weeks turned into months, I [and they] realised that they were harking back to some way-distant halcyon days of yore, when things were indeed calmer and life was more chilled all round. Or maybe it was just false memory syndrome. No mention of aliens and anal probes as yet, I'm happy to report.
So, by the time I came to post something on the blog [or reply to the myriad of emails rapidly accumulating in my inbox - sorry, sorry sorry to you all!], I'd either be a pile of mush lying on the floor in our loungeroom, or trying to come down and get a good night's sleep.
The other thing I've realised is, as I mentioned a while back, I soooo need a holiday. We're going away next weekend for 4 days, down the coast to Lorne. I can't wait. A lovely view in a house by the sea, surrounded by a pile of books, CDs and my dear wif. We still haven't sorted out the proper holiday yet though, but we will, we will. I hope.
It may be complicated by the fact that I just had a job interview! Remember, way back when [February, actually], I went to see the manager of a community clinic and he advised me to get a job on a ward with a view to go into a CPN post in 6 to 12 months? Well, I'm now 4 months in to my job, and I got the heads-up a couple of weeks back that there was a job vacancy [3, in fact] at this self-same clinic, and my current boss said she'd taken a call from the guy, and that she'd support my application if I wanted to go for it...
I'd gone through my normal routine of vacillation, self-doubt and emotional downers, of course, unable to believe that I could go for it after such a short time in this post / this country. Complicated by the fact that I HATE job interviews with a passion. I get dry mouth, shakes, sweats, and lose the sensation in my legs. And my tongue and hands appear to grow to the size of watermelons. Such was my self-esteemless hell that I set the condition that I'd only go for the job if I got head-hunted. And well, it happened, so I put in my app, and they saw me today.
It seemed to go OK, but I blanked a couple of times, wittered on more than once, failed to understand the question on a few more occasions. But I know how hard I am on myself, so I need to balance that against my job interview ineptness. Net result = goodness knows if I'll get it, if I did well or appallingly. Watch this space.
Now... on to those emails I've been so remiss with... did I say sorry?
Mitigating circumstances? Mebbe. I can only say in my defence, m'lud, that I've been absolutely knackered for a few weeks now. And I've realised two things:
Firstly, my current job is faaaaar more instense and busy than my last one. Not that I didn't work hard in Cavendish, no no no... but there were at least occasional lulls where you could catch your breath. Not so in this job. It's soooooo intense and [as we say here - yes, "we"] full-on, emotionally, mentally and physically draining.
So much so, that at the end of an early shift, when the adrenaline that I've been working on finally wears off, I go into a sort of serotonin rush, if a "rush" is what you can call it - more like a kind of like near-narcoleptic state, in fact. I just stand at the bus stop, desperately trying to stave off the waves of sleepiness, propping up my eyelids with those metaphorical matches I keep in my wallet for just such an occasion. Weirdly, though, by the end of a late shift, when such a stuporific state would come in handy, I'm wired as a speed-freak. Bugger.
When I first started, lots of colleagues commented on a regular basis that "it's not usually this busy, you know..." And you know what, I think they actually believed that. But as the weeks turned into months, I [and they] realised that they were harking back to some way-distant halcyon days of yore, when things were indeed calmer and life was more chilled all round. Or maybe it was just false memory syndrome. No mention of aliens and anal probes as yet, I'm happy to report.
So, by the time I came to post something on the blog [or reply to the myriad of emails rapidly accumulating in my inbox - sorry, sorry sorry to you all!], I'd either be a pile of mush lying on the floor in our loungeroom, or trying to come down and get a good night's sleep.
The other thing I've realised is, as I mentioned a while back, I soooo need a holiday. We're going away next weekend for 4 days, down the coast to Lorne. I can't wait. A lovely view in a house by the sea, surrounded by a pile of books, CDs and my dear wif. We still haven't sorted out the proper holiday yet though, but we will, we will. I hope.
It may be complicated by the fact that I just had a job interview! Remember, way back when [February, actually], I went to see the manager of a community clinic and he advised me to get a job on a ward with a view to go into a CPN post in 6 to 12 months? Well, I'm now 4 months in to my job, and I got the heads-up a couple of weeks back that there was a job vacancy [3, in fact] at this self-same clinic, and my current boss said she'd taken a call from the guy, and that she'd support my application if I wanted to go for it...
I'd gone through my normal routine of vacillation, self-doubt and emotional downers, of course, unable to believe that I could go for it after such a short time in this post / this country. Complicated by the fact that I HATE job interviews with a passion. I get dry mouth, shakes, sweats, and lose the sensation in my legs. And my tongue and hands appear to grow to the size of watermelons. Such was my self-esteemless hell that I set the condition that I'd only go for the job if I got head-hunted. And well, it happened, so I put in my app, and they saw me today.
It seemed to go OK, but I blanked a couple of times, wittered on more than once, failed to understand the question on a few more occasions. But I know how hard I am on myself, so I need to balance that against my job interview ineptness. Net result = goodness knows if I'll get it, if I did well or appallingly. Watch this space.
Now... on to those emails I've been so remiss with... did I say sorry?
posted by Ian at 5:02 pm
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