Journal: Temp Job
I used to work in a comic book store in that weird pocket of time between being a teenager and young adult.
I loved the perfectionism of covering brand new comics on Wednesday mornings in clear plastic with the edges just so.
I didn’t like being in the storage room which I can best describe as an iron maiden made of trade paperbacks and action figure boxes stuck in at odd angles.
I suspect that physics didn’t work as expected in there either. I’d often get rudely accosted by a random pile of stuff that meant more work for me. So naturally, with the gusto of a 19-year-old earning $7.50 Singaporean dollars per hour, I’d move the stuff somewhere it could hassle someone else.
Current day. After a four-hour block of meetings this morning, I traded my attention from a big screen to a small screen and aimlessly cycled between apps on my phone. Here I am in my mental warehouse, sorting information into nice, neat little boxes - and here’s where I get accosted by unpleasantness. Bad stuff. Life stuff.
A message from my dad about some of the side effects he’s experiencing from taking chemo pills.
I remembered my dad has cancer all over again.
It’s like my brain has a temp worker who moves the information from one dusty corner to another so they don’t have to deal with it and skips off to do pleasantly easy things instead.
Today was a struggle after that point. Like any sane person on their lunch break, I tried to relax by playing a resource management game set in a post-apocalyptic ice age as a result of climate change. And as much as I enjoy the challenge of keeping 607 souls alive with coal, sawdust and soup in -120°C weather, the unpleasantness was still there.
So I paced. I looked out the window. I went for a walk. I drowned myself in work. But even now at 00:37 I am here with a heaviness. In truth, the load is always there. I just hypnotise myself into not perceiving the weight.
I guess that’s the thing. If my brain helpfully free up my mind for other things, I would be more haunted all the time.
It sure sucks remembering.