Exile On Coldharbour Lane


Well, first days done and dusted. I dragged myself out of my duveted womb at 6.28am, to produce in no short order, a quick bowl of cereal, a wash, brush my teeth, dress, and to vanish into the sun in an exhausted fashion two minutes before my son awoke. X wandered into the bedroom saying “Daddy?”, before finding an empty imprint where just half an hour I had been. He crawled into bed and curled up next to Mum, and slept.

He looked for me all over the house this morning. By this time, I was listening to Radiohead's “In Rainbows” and Moby's “The End Of Everything” on my iPod as my commuter train crawled slowly towards Peckham Rye.

I closed my eyes and hibernated in a state of low activity – as much as I could – on five and a half hours sleep, as the train bumbled along. Train was late. Well, not that late, but late enough to mildly concerned.

I walked through the door of my new office at 9.00am. Saw my new desk. Spent the day being talked at. My induction is that of meetings, of being bombarded with information, of trying to hastily grab in my brain dozens of pieces of disparate information and compile it into a coherent whole. At the moment all I have seen is jigsaw pieces. All in all, three long meetings being bombarded with The Facts, and realising a few things.

For the first time in many years, people are actually giving me an opportunity to prove myself. I've been at a stage for three years where I've felt that my employer undervalued me and my abilities, that I could do better, could do more, if only I had the chance... and now I have the chance. People aren't treating me like an idiot, but working on the assumption – quite rightly – that I know what I'm talking about and have something to contribute. I was asking questions, and I thought... I'm good at this. Give my brain something to feast on, and it will ravish the information. I asked questions people hadn't asked. Saw things people hadn't seen. I'd felt neglected for a while, and it now feels like I might be able to unleash my potential. I like to make the world a better place with my work, to see society benefit from what I do. Some people just do a job – I do a job that my conscience allows. I'll do a good job of it.

Tell you what, the three hours a day commuting is a fucking killer. That'll be the end of me before anything.
- posted by Mark @ 9:02 pm