I’m trying something new here. I wrote this story-but-still-very-much-based-on-real-life piece after I frantically scoured my office looking for my beloved watch. I thought, even if I don’t find my watch, I’ll still get a good story out of it.
My intent is to convey the daily drudgery of despair I feel as I wait for life to ‘progress’ or move forward. I tried to let the creative process guide the outcome. I’m not sure how successful think I’m getting somewhere regardless. And I’m trying not to let fear of perfection drive me not to post, so I hit publish anyway.
Let me know what you think :)
I’m stuck.
The tunnel I’m in feels eerily still and strenuously long. Thick mist blankets the inside. It’s the only thing moving around, albeit at a snails pace. There isn’t much light.
I’m stuck in the tunnel, waiting.
There was a fictional book I once read, outlining Einstein’s different theories of time. It’s a short book, each chapter outlining a world in which a theory of time plays out. In one world, time is circular. In another world, time doesn’t move. I think I’ve stepped into that one.
Time in this tunnel is wasted on waiting - and I hate waiting. I hate waiting to hear back from job applications. I hate waiting for my husband to finish his degree. I hate waiting for the wait to be over.
Every day is a struggle because every day is the same. Time is moving without progressing.
But today’s a little different. Today, time decided to throw things off by losing my timekeeper, my beloved Casio.
It’s not a super big deal. It’s a digital watch, the cheapest watch I own.
But still - it’s my everyday watch. It’s what I rely on everyday to get to work on time. When the digital numbers switch to 8:38am, I know it’s time to get moving. By the time it’s 8:42am, I know I need to run.
My Daniel Wellington dial that I’ve thrown on instead does none of this. It throws me off, staring back at me with its imprecise hands (sometimes it ends up slowing down for 15 minutes if I don’t use it). I’m left to guess the precise time of when I should leave, uncertain as I unlock the door with one shoelace undone.
It’s a worry to tell my mother - I’m not sure what she’ll say. Will she shout at me?
No, that was in the past, pre-18. Now she’ll just give me a dark look and tell me how much money I’m throwing away. I don’t tell her about last month’s 15GB data pack which didn’t roll-over. I try not to think about all that wasted data and focus on the tunnel instead.
I’m going crazy, listening to the repeated echo of my thoughts. I mope over my missing watch, over my missing data, over my missing husband. I need a distraction, I need to block it out. And I know the perfect thing: the jobs tab on Linkedin.
Job-hunting is a great distraction - it has a productive procrastination vibe. It makes me feel good whilst plugging the emptiness with…more emptiness I suppose. Realistically, the only thing I can expect back is rejection letters or, even better, radio silence.
Fill the form, and submit. Repeat, repeat, repeat. I don’t even check at this point - it’s just a cursory glance and a click of the green button. I’m not even sure what jobs I’m applying for, it could be irrelevant at this rate.
But I keep going because job hunting is the one thing that makes me feel like maybe, just maybe, I am inching forward in this anticipatory tunnel, moving further towards a curve up ahead or an end in sight. Maybe, there’s progress.
My phone buzzes. I stop a job application halfway to pick it up.
‘Mid-June. Maybe. I’ll book tickets closer to the time’. My husband is texting me his expected arrival date. Or so he says.
I throw my phone down and sigh. It’s back to the job-hunt in that long and endless tunnel.
I love the artwork! And the writing is also so simple and enjoyable. Very refreshing article :)