For starters, I've had a shocker of a week. Nothing truly bad has happened but I just feel burdened and that's worse because you can't complain about something that doesn't have a cause. Last week was pretty functional - went to the chiropractor, then went and had a blood test to determine whether or not I can give blood and worked til 10pm on Wednesday doing publishing to get the Skwirk website happening for the Thursday launch (not that it made much difference, truly, but don't tell them I said that).
On Thursday I was buggered so I went home on the dot of 5pm. Most others went to the pub and reportedly didn't leave until 11pm. On Friday, having recovered, I wanted to go out but everyone else was allegedly buggered and hungover from the night before. THEN YESTERDAY I found out that half of them had gone to The Rose (my old haunt from my journo days) without telling me, after I'd made it clear that I was up for a big night.
I found the whole situation incredibly rude and deliberately personal. I'm not sure whether this feeling is the truth of the matter (I am socially dyslexic, after all) or just a result of the entire week being a string of social brownouts and me stumbling in the dark at a low point. Vanessa and I had a conversation about it today. She hates how work is getting really cliquey and how all these in-jokes keep flying around all day above her head. I agreed. I mean, it's fine to enjoy the company of your workmates and have a laugh every now and again but making someone feel excluded and distracted all day is quite another.
Besides, I wrote some time ago how the honeymoon is over. I feel that everyone has gotten to a point where we know each other well enough to know whether or not we want to know more. If that makes sense. And for some people I just don't want to know more. Their lives are alcohol-fuelled raves, harmless pashes with workmates and talking to the same tired faces, weekend after weekend. It's only interesting to those who practise the same religion.
Oh, I'm beginning to read like a hypocrite, whining about how they won't invite me out and then condemning their behaviour as boring. It's a bit like this, though - every now and again you need to break out, get pissed and abandon yourself. I'm all for it. Yay. But it gets tired if it occurs, predictably, every weekend. And with the people you work with for 8 hours a day! Certainly doing it every night will kill you.
The second thing is that the nights shouldn't be a series of events. What I mean by this is that unless something from a previous night is still continuing, you should never mention other nights. A night should be held in isolation. One night only. No 'remember last time...'. As soon as there is a series of nights, you start the process of exclusion whereby people who weren't there miss out through no fault of their own (especially if one was not invited out).
Also, I don't think it's necessarily good practice to talk about what happened well into the next week. That's boring too. Nothing new has happened so stop going on and on about old stuff. As much as I like to reminisce, even I've given up on the repetition. Additionally, there are a lot of people who are cool but can't hang out. These are the people who live far away, have kids, have partners, don't drink. In the end, work is work, not a party.
All right, I'll get off my high horse. I went to Rod's gig at the Fisho's on Saturday, really to see Stuart but also to support Rod. Stuart is the same. I'm glad I broke up with him when I did because I know I would have gone stale if we'd stayed together much longer. Rod came over and talked to us for a bit, then Clint turned up, then Mick. Then Ben and Gill (together - though they didn't sit together, which I found odd). I felt really uncomfortable, like Stu and I were intruding on an invisible boundary, so after the set we left and hung out at Manly where the moon was really bright.
I was really glad Stuart was there. He made me feel like I was included. We talked for a while on the beach. Trivial things. Then he walked me to the bus stop and I caught a bus to St Leonard's and a train home.
On Sunday Sir and I went to Paddy's and I bought two cheong sam tops for Chinese New Year (which is next weekend), then we had lunch in Newtown and saw Pan's Labyrinth at the Dendy. (Excellent film. Brutal and confronting and intense, but excellent).
I've drawn up a budget and read Markus Zusak's 'The Messenger' since then. In amongst all this postulating about cliques, that is. Will report in with new postulations next week. Sigh.
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