Quitting

All through my week off work I've had dreams about work. The kind of dreams where everything goes wrong and everything is a mess. One dream had co-worker S telling me that some very important documents I needed were buried in the sand. There were three places they could be, and she started to dig with her hands. She dug for a bit before starting on another hole. I was concerned because the person who buried the documents might have longer arms and the documents were in the first hole, just deeper than she could dig. I felt sure we were never going to find the documents, and deadline, as it always is, was approaching.

In another dream, I was jogging with a non-existent co-worker who said he as quitting. I asked when. He said the following week. I said okay, think I'm going to quit then too. I woke up feeling very much like I should quit. I told a friend this, and she asked what I was going to do. I said that at The Awakening bush party, I found myself helping the crew after the party, lifting heavy things into a truck. It was a bloody fun adventure, so perhaps I could lift things for a living. She felt lifting things would annoy me after a short time. She's right. So I suggested putting things, or maybe throwing things. We decided that throwing things has more creative freedom than putting things, and I am quite a creative person. So I am going to quit my job as a staff writer and editor to be a Thrower Of Things.

I am at a loss.

Oh yes - many of my co-workers are going to a gig tonight, and I asked for my name to be included. Yesterday S told me that she had forgotten to include my name on the guest list. She called and apologised and is trying to sort it out, so I don't doubt that it was an honest mistake. Still, I don't know whether I can be bothered reading anything into it or not.

I have cut my glossy feature down from 5000 words to 3000 and am going to cut away a further 500 words today. Then I am going to have a go at turning a recent short story into a short stage play.