Not Waving, But Drowning

2 weeks back to work and i’m already drowning in a pool of blood – albeit my own – and gasping for breath. 4 graduation ceremonies held over 2 days (saturday and sunday) killed my last weekend and robbed me of my precious time with the girls. back-to-back meetings lasting 3-4 hours pack the days and by the time i return back to my desk in the evenings, emails have flooded my mailbox, demanding action/replies with deadlines that have gone way past expiry dates.

I didn’t even have time for lunch till 4pm on thursday. zipped into 9.30am meeting which lasted till 12.30pm, had an interview at 1pm, another meeting at 1.30pm which ended at 3.45pm. the last few hours at work were spent running to the various departments to submit documents and tie-in administrative work. oh yeah, and squeezed in ½ hour to pump milk.

Friday wasn’t all that different. spent the entire morning interviewing potential lecturers, had a quick lunch before i started a new class. during the break, hid in david’s room to “milk it for all that’s worth” – which wasn’t much since i haven’t been drinking enough fluids and eating properly. once class was over i dashed down to the hub’s office to conduct another focus group session. that ended at 10.10pm and then we sped back home because MIL called to say wen had consumed all 16 ounces of milk and was yelling for more…

Rush, rush, rush, rush. all in a day’s work. lovely, isn’t it? a rather charming sort of life i lead. after a harried day at the office, i head back to engage in screaming matches with xian and feed a perpetually-hungry wen who clings on to me the moment i drop my bags.

Ah yes, i’ll be first to admit that my time-management skills suck big time. i do apologise if i seem to be bitching incessantly. perhaps those weeks at home have rendered me a little, er, slow and i’m still trying to ease back into my normally-hectic schedule.

Let’s see what’s in store for me this week. bet it wouldn’t be all that different. shall leave you with a poem by stevie smith. a morbid, chilling one. excuse me, good people, while i come up for air. *gasp*


Not Waving But Drowning
by Stevie Smith


Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he's dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.