The two people in our lives: Apple and Xerox.

Apology to those who come to my blog for peaceful, expletive-free descriptions of life and love in London. I'm about to blow your head off with some really nasty ranting. So if you need to, change the channel. I'll understand. And if you choose to stay, I'm totally humbled. And here are your earplugs.

I'm pretty goddamn pissed off. I know I should channel this energy into something positive, like going for a 4 hour run in 2 degree weather, or taking a boxing class. But I'm sorry to say that today I'm digressing into a temper tantrum. Yes, you heard right- I'm not apologising for what is about to be a very juvenile, whining, woe-is-me piece of writing.

Okay, so you probably read my previous entry about being really patient about our year. The missed trips, birthday, time away, etc. And about what was our crazy December. We had very little time together, and then the manic Christmas organisation was upon us, and then more work, then New Years, then a couple days of sleeping until 1am to recover, and then back to work. Our December seemed non-existent. Went by as if it were one of those really great hugs that you still feel for a few moments after, and then it's gone. And to top that off, after a solid month and a half of stopping smoking altogether in October, the mister picked it up again. With a vengeance. Why? Because his entire brain and every fiber of his being is working on a new piece of business, and the stress level is at that dangerous point where he actually appears weirdly calm.

So, January rolls in, and I promised myself that I would take things in stride and make 2009 my zen year. Zen my ass. It's like we never left December.

First day of work, he's hunched over his computer and the copy machine until 2am. Tonight will be more of the same, as will the rest of this week, most likely.

And then he tells me (actually, he emails me, because I think he would rather avoid the hearing my voice go super-sonic) that they need him in the US for two weeks, starting next week. And he has to be there, because he's determined to make this project amazing and he wants to help the company sparkle in this grey fog of recession. That is, if it doesn't completely kill him first.

Did I write him back? Yeah. Unfortunately, it also included the dramatic words "angry", "this is getting ridiculous", and "we'll never be able to get time together!", so I wasn't exactly constructive, but oh well.

I desperately want to throw something and hear glass shatter. I want to put my foot down. To yell "NO NO NO NO NO NO NO" until the sound of that word comforts me. But for what? What good will it do me? Us? He will just be even more stressed out as I point my finger at the broken trees, rather than the developing forest.

How the hell can we ever plan to move to a bigger place? Buy a house? Make a plan? Have a family? How do people do it? How do they maintain their sanity with this kind of work schedule? How?!?!?!!!!

I've seen so many people in the advertising and media industry mentally and physically broken by their work days, and yet they seem perversely attracted to it. It's like Stockholm Syndrome- they end up falling in love with their captors. The money is attractive. The parties are attractive. The status is attractive. When does it all calm down? When can we get a moment where we can take care of our personal life? Do wives get a power of veto? Can I say "stop"? But then, what would I be stopping? I don't know how to voice what's bothering me, really. Both of us knew what we were getting into when we got married, and that it was going to be a hard 3-5 years making our mark. We thrive on chaos, and the only way we've learned how to balance it is by me taking a much less stressful job to not only save my/our sanity, but to help us organise our life better. Otherwise, not only would we never see each other, but we'd only have one can of beans in the house.

Don't get me wrong, I love chaos- but for me, it's another kind of chaos I've grown to love. I love the chaos that comes with organising trips, doing family itineraries, doing the banking and the grocery shopping and the laundry and the washing up and cleaning the house. Life chaos. Work chaos is a completely different thing, and makes you feel like a hamster on a wheel sometimes. Luckily, the job I have is more project manager than super-executive, so I'm lucky. I have my own projects at my own time, and an amazing boss that trusts my time frame and the integrity of what I deliver. There's manageable stress, but not the kind of chaos that I used to have.

Of course as the trajectory of most emotions go, I was really pissed off at the beginning of this post, and now I'm biting back tears as I write this. Not because I'm sad or bemoaning my life (because I know that I'm blessed, honest), but because I'm completely and utterly frustrated. I know he is too, but he deals with it differently. He doesn't say "no". He plays the game. He tries his hardest no matter what. He puts a smile on, he comes home and goes to bed and repeats the same battle, day after day, without so much as a grunt or groan. He just lives it, until they latch him onto the next project. This is how he got his great rep in the industry. This is why people know him not only by name, but by his face. His 120%. But it's the small percent that I have to keep sacrificing to them that hurts.

Why do I feel so passionate about all of this? Yes, I have my own things and my own life and activities and don't rely on the mister for my sole amusement, but when the few hours that we have in the week magically converge, I try and keep that space as open and flexible as possible, to make sure we see eachother for a much-needed hug. Even if that means staying up until 2am.

I know I have to just be strong and not worry and know that life throws us all tests for a reason. I know that someday, we'll have a house and a family and we'll be a bit more settled. I know that I have to just smile and just get on with my day and hope that the mister is okay. I know that Tato only saw Mamo and I once a week for 5 years while he worked in New York City. I know that people do it, and I'll have to as well.

But, wow. It really really fucking tests the very cliff-edge of my patience sometimes, you know?

Okay, back to our regularly scheduled program.