I remember one of my 2021-2022’s New Year’s resolutions: to be tired. Say what? Yes, to feel tired. Tired of the day, of the routine so I could feel the feelings of Friday again. I had quit the whole being-my-own-boss-girl crap (really, the 5am club is such a BS) I was already working as an admin assistant for a regulatory body and I was finally on the path of a 9-5 and that’s what I wanted. Something stable so I could get rid of that stupid LinkedIn page.
Basically what I wanted was to go back to be a public servant, go back to Brazil and to the Legislative Assembly, but I wanted it remote. All 100% remote. I requested it, legal said it was possible. The big bosses said nope. The things is that I wanted to feel proud of me again… I felt something awesome coming but no luck and, when my contract was over, I had to start job hunting again.
Ops, almost forgot. . . . here’s this newsletter soundtrack: here. Keep this on “repeat 1” so it stays playing in a loop. You can thank me later.
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I keep thinking about writing but then I never do… the thing is that I finally feel TIRED. But I want to write. It’s just that crave and wine are feeling more appealing to me lately. Are you too watching The Rest of Us? There’s something about those zombie, apocalyptical shows that I don’t get, unless it’s funny like the awesome Don’t look up. That one was great…
But I am loving Big Little Lies (I’m currently reading this book. After one episode of the series, I was hooked and needed the book…) and White Lotus and Chernobyl. And I actually did like Matrix 4 (I do not know the subtitle. Ok, I googled it: The Matrix Resurrections). I actually did watch the whole Matrix saga last month and I liked it. Well, only the first one… ok, I get the fuss now. And I’m definitely still going to the gym everyday...
And on the treadmill I think a lot. About things to write, and I do have some good ideas… but then I sit in front of the computer and this screen simply looks at me, whiter and emptier than ever, and I still believe I could have written the whole Harry Potter saga. See the difference? Those who do it, does who don’t. And there are also those who know it ;-) #winkwink
When I’m not working (and I have been working a lot, happily) I google fashion/style ideas, like “how to style a t-shirt under a dress”, “Joan Rivers vintage necklaces”, “how to wear water shoes outside the beach”, “balaclavas forever” or “why sass & bide website isn’t working”… go figure. A fashion tab is always open on my phone’s Safari - 15 tabs his very moment, I checked.
At the same time, I have been also listening to podcasts of true crime. I started on Christmas Day, to lighten the mood, with a 1-hour episode about the Carandiru massacre followed by Dahmer on Netflix… I fully admit, I skipped ahead a little on the last one. The gruesome details don’t interest me at all but I like the investigation and how they get caught. I know it’s creepy and horrible and it definitely is the stuff nightmares are made of, but women have a little corner of their brain wired for these things. Where I draw the line? Crime against children. I can’t see or hear - even fiction. No, thank you.
I’m tired to the point of having and enjoying weekends. I explain…
When you are under the spell of “boss babe” you do not have weekends. Everyday is the same day, the same go-go-go, a presentation, a “party”, training on zoom Sunday night, and the hype, OMG, so much hype, but rent is due tomorrow and there’s visa to renew and kid needs a new snow pants and your cat is sick… The simple thought of it makes me feel anxious and sad.
It’s absolutely the same when you are job hunting, the same go-go-go-don’t-stop-endless applying to everything you see, focused on the future but the bills are due today and you want a nice cashmere for the winter and a pretty bag just because it’s pretty (life is made of this too) and it will make you happier if you have it.
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No, this is not a career advice newsletter. No way. This is how I survived a rescinded job offer. I reminder to myself that everything will indeed be alright.
And I’m writing this again for the last time.
I’d go through that all over again (buckets of tears and all + a prescription for Clonazepam) if I had known it’d get me here.
Signing off,
Cla xox