Adjustments are never easy. Especially ones of the mind or spine for that matter. These days my life is all one big adjustment. Adjusting to a furnished apartment in a neighborhood that has its sketchy ups and downs, adjusting to a new commute to work, adjusting to a new job, adjusting to a new cup. On top of all the adjustments, I am to be a savior to a group of people who have fearful respect of me. That, however, will have to be discussed at another point in time.
Speaking of which, when I was younger I often heard a song called “working for the weekend” by a band called Loverboy fronted by a guy wearing a horrible headband. I never understood what the song meant. I was really bad with understanding what were the actual lyrics and then what they meant. Perhaps I was a bit naive as a kid. Yes, I was a bit naive despite all the literal death and destruction all around me in the South Bronx. Eventually I grew up and I came to understand that the song was perhaps about having a free weekend after working hard all week. As the lead guitarist explained in an interview once, the original title was “Everybody’s Waiting for the Weekend”.
My first real job was at the US Department of Justice and I definitely had the weekends free and that was such a delight. I was working hard (ish) during the week, getting to know and enjoy a new city (Washington, DC) and I had the weekends free to walk about and enjoy the muggy, humid DC air. This was back when my hair was super curly and thus hand-combing my hair did take up some time on the weekends. Then life went and got complicated and real. Well, it got real give or take several years (more like 7 years) later.
Slowly, over the course of ten years, I came to have no weekends. One Saturday I looked out my window saw the beaming sunlight and went back to looking at the computer trying to come up with a program design that would be awesome get us funding and help save the agency. Very lofty goals for a Saturday morning. However, it was not just that Saturday morning. This scenario came to happen across many Saturday and Sunday mornings and nights. Coffee and all sorts of caffeine (except for chocolate cake-ick) came to be my dear, deep friends running through my veins. Caffeine, work and more work.
I am not saying I worked continuously every weekend. However. weekends are no longer the time where you can fully decompress. A random email, phone call r text message can get in motion hours of frantically trying to put out a “work” fire. Weekends have also become the time to catch up on a project here and there that you just could not get to during the week.
Here I am in a new city and new job adjusting to the newness of it all. The hills shine brightly this morning as they tend to do in the bay area. Of course, there are like twenty different micro-climates here and thus I should expect to carry an umbrella for when I round the random corner near the square. That is should I get a chance to go do a random walkabout. I have a four-hour work meeting on Sunday for which I have to prepare. I also have a book chapter to work on, housing to look for, and conversations to catch up on. The meeting I am to have this weekend, is a grand one where I will have to take a stand and make a very important decision. However, I am a bit tired of having to make grand decisions, workplans and presentations on the weekend. I’d like to just bask in the Hawaiian sun sipping a maitai.
Yup, everybody’s working for the weekend. Nah, not really anymore. It is more like everybody’s working so that they can work some more on the weekend. As long as one lives in a place where a one-bedroom can be rented out for $3600, never going to be able to just work for the weekend. Sorry, Loverboy.