Welcome to the mad house

Away on business and no time for anything. I never thought I’d type that sentence. Let me explain. My day job employer sent me to Athens so I can train a bunch of people that are replacing my current team in London. Cost cutting and all that.

I fly into Athens with one of my co-workers at just after 3am. At the hotel at 4.30am, in bed at 5am, getting up at 9.40am. In the office at 10.45am and it is now 7.45pm. I am ready to be tarred, feathered and quartered. Call me Zombie, maybe.

Tired as I am, away from home (where I’d be on my way home now, to my current little kingdom in order to eat dinner and write for the rest of the evening), I still can only think of writing.

Athens, you ask? Hot, sunny, full of antiques? Dunno. Air-conditioned office all day. That’s all I’ve seen of this place. The hotel pool closed at 6pm as well.

It won’t be like that every day, but boy does it suck.

My main worry, however, is my writing. I dared not to write on Friday. I felt guilty about that when I went to bed. It had been a very long week and I was very tired, so I couldn’t bring myself to set pen on paper or fingers on keyboard.

Now I am rebelling. I must write. It’s unacceptable to have my day job take over my life like that. Also, what use is it to be in Athens and not even know it? Right now I could be anywhere on the planet in any generic air-conditioned office.

Unless you will find me on some sightseeing or in the office for the performance of the necessary evil, you will find me writing for most of my time here. It won’t matter where I’ll be or who’ll be with me, I’ll have pen and paper and I’ll be writing.

I fear that the sun will be setting by the time we get back to the hotel and I will not even want to do anything other than go to bed. It is a rather depressing thought and I am tired enough that it makes me want to cry.

That would be entirely unacceptable, so, as usual, I am turning to my outlet and write using stolen moments. I am, however, frustrated and my desire to scream is rather not abated.

I clench my jaw, drown out my surroundings and mutilate my keyboard.

To write.

Not to write has never been an option, because I have nothing better to do anyway. I’m basically just waiting around for the others to finish. Might as well put pen to paper, which I will do later on as well.

You want to know the weirdest part of my current situation? Everyone is calmly working, trying to figure out their next step (which is what I am doing as well, if you ask me anyway). It’s not chaotic or stressed. But none of it seems important and I find that quite hilarious. Furthermore, I seem to know what the issue is rather better than the so-called experts, who keep running around in circles. The problem is that I can’t offer a solution.

Anyway, that is not my job and never will be. It just serves my own amusement. Might as well get something out of this. *insert grinning smiley*

To sum it up, I am in a mad house that outwardly appears to work according to rules only known to those running it. The problem is, of course, nobody else has a clue. I sit back, enjoy the show and take notes.

If this doesn’t make much sense to you, I’ll chalk it up to the fact that I am sleep deprived and hungry and don’t want to be here anymore.

Over and out.

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About 2clouds

I am many things, most of them I am 100%, some of them 150%, none of them just half. I write, I read, I dream, I travel. I question. And I'm always looking for answers. No dream is impossible.
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