Amra Pajalic

I think everyone is feeling that end of the year fatigue. I’m going to a whole new level and I’m barely scraping through the work week. Got a throat infection and my body is going through some niggles so I’m feeling knackered.

The good news is that I’ve got six weeks to go until my annual leave. Also my organisation is supporting my part time bid and I’ll be job-sharing my position. So happy because I love the people I work with and I wanted to stay there, but didn’t believe it was possible.

So I’m in countdown mode and getting through by reading and doing a lot of tv watching.

Today is National Ride to Work day and a bunch of people at work have signed up, moi included. Now I also always included a back up plan-I won’t be riding if it’s windy, if it’s wet or a cold day-because really the closer I got to it the more I couldn’t be stuffed. I woke up this morning and it’s a lovely day, perfect for a ride. So no more excuses. I shall be riding to work.

I did it for nearly three months last summer while I didn’t have a car and it’s a lovely ride. I used to get to work buzzing and hyper with energy. I also wanted to start doing it at least once a week so get back into the swing of exercising. So hopefully this will move me closer to my goal. And to be honest I need some energy. Have been feeling worn out and tired lately. I think it’s that end of the year blues and most people seem to have it.

So on your bikes people.

Why is it when you’re in the middle of a project and consumed by your writing, there is never enough time? It feels like you’re gulping it up in big chunks because your head is in one space and your body in another. But when you’re not in the middle of a project and in that procrastinating mode with your writing then there is too much time. It stretches out into infinity and you are desperate to fill it. As soon as there isn’t an activity to consume you, a restlessnes hits. It’s almost like you can’t stand being in your own head space because there’s nothing there to fill it up.

When I’m writing it feels like I’m never alone, I carry the story with me wherever I go. Even when I wake up during the night to pee, in those first few moments as sleep retracts, my story comes to life behind my eyelids. Sometimes it’s a pain. My brain starts buzzing, adrenaline hits and I can’t go back to sleep. But other times it’s comforting.

I haven’t worked on a long term project for a while. I haven’t had that buzz of being consumed. While I’ve written short stories this year even those I’ve had trouble with. I worry that I’ve lost the ability to be in that still silence, to enjoy the quiet around me and sink into the story. Now I can’t stand being unoccupied. Silence scares me, lack of activity sets my teeth on edge.

I’m looking forward to working part time and having that buzz again, but I fear it too. Will I be able to get back to who I am?

I love a lazy wake up when I have the day off. I lie in bed looking out my window at the trees swaying in the breeze, the sound of birds twittering and the quiet of suburbia surrounding me. Sometimes when I lie in bed a long time enjoying not having to be anywhere or do anything, my tabby comes and hides under the blanket and lies beside me. My little girl cat stands by the door meowing for me to open it and my fluffy cat runs up and down, waiting for me to get out of bed and chase him. Eventually their entreaties become too much and I get out of bed. As I go about my day those moments in bed with the possibility of the day fade, but the serenity and peace keep me buoyed.

This year is my Jodi Picoult year. I’ve read quite a few of her titles and while there has been misses like The Tenth Circle , some like Perfect Match pissed me off, some like Second Glance were ok, some like My Sister’s Keeper was sublime and now Nineteen Minutes kept me reading all day after work last night and waking up this morning to finish it.

Picoult takes big picture themes like child sexual abuse in Perfect Match, or sibling organ donation in My Sister’s Keeper or high school massacres in Nineteen Minutes and delves into all the points of view presenting a complicated, messy story, that conflicts you, pisses you off, moves you, engages you, makes you think while entertaning and making you read as if you’re underwater and can barely can catch your breath before you turn the page.

I hope I have half of her talent and dedication. She’s written one book a year since she first got published and has a very dedicated routine of writing every day between 9 and 3 while her kids are in school. Fabulous.

Was driving home today and cars driving in the opposite lane flashed their headlights to warn other drivers of police presence ahead. I felt warmth in the pit of my stomach. In the Western Suburbs we are united against authority. Anarchy rules.