Mhm. Yeah, I'm tired. That's the word describing my life lately. I get up in the morning - a very difficult mission, almost impossible sometimes - I'm always thrilled to start a new day and hardly wait to get to the newsroom and write the same shit everyday. I'm usually half an hour late at work, i get the ""pf" look from Dana or Oana, my coworkers, I feel bad about being late and try to write more for the 12 o'clock newscast so that they wouldn't be angry with me. Then I get very angry at the deputy editor in chief who kinda shows up around 1 pm, sits down and starts bugging everybody about the typos in the info bubbles that go on screen. That's his way of living. The info bubbles give this guy's life a meaning. There is nothing else this guy does, besides checking the info bubbles. Of course, the people from the foreign news department are the first in line to be bugged about the info bubbles. "You can't write Nuremberg on the info bubbles. I told you so many times! It's Nurnberg. " "What is Lhasa? Huh? What's Lhasa? Girls, it's Lhassa, I tell you!"
The guy is not very familiar with English, you have to forgive him. He must think French is the only language in the world. :)
Ok, and then I write. And write and write. And then I check for new stories. And then I write, and I write. My friends never get the chance to talk to me like they used to do. I'm alwyas irritated and I always disappear in the middle of the conversation. So, yeah, don't try to have a conversation with me on Yahoo messenger. NOT INTERESTING! You'll end up talking to yourself. And I warn you, it's frustrating.
And in no time it's 3 pm. Time my coworkers change shift. Dana leaves, Oana comes. I don't have time to say hi to her, cause I have to check for new stories, make a list and send it to the 6 o'clock newscast editor. And then I write, and I write. And then it's 6.
Should be time to go home. But traffic is hell in Bucharest at that hour. I can't cross the town to get home. It would cost me 2 hours of my life, spent with my foot stuck on the pedals - my car is a manual purple 1996 Daewood Tico giving her last breath for my sake. So I decide to stay a bit more. Maybe I should try to have a chat with a friend, but they are all too busy. I can't do anything else but understand. So I'm browsing around the Internet and I find myself on the same damn websites I search my stories on. And I get angry. I decide to leave. I get caught in traffic, spend an hour and a half on the damn bridge I have to cross to get home. I spend half an hour looking for a place to park close to the apartment building I live in. I finally get home, open the TV, open my laptop, talk to my co workers about the same damn things we do everyday. Makes me angry. The rest of the people I know are either not online or working on some project. And then my eyes get heavy and I fall asleep. With the newschannel on. So that I can get up in the morning when I hear the morning anchor's voice. My brain has already memorized her voice.
Exciting life, huh? Just a few more months. And then I'm off.
The guy is not very familiar with English, you have to forgive him. He must think French is the only language in the world. :)
Ok, and then I write. And write and write. And then I check for new stories. And then I write, and I write. My friends never get the chance to talk to me like they used to do. I'm alwyas irritated and I always disappear in the middle of the conversation. So, yeah, don't try to have a conversation with me on Yahoo messenger. NOT INTERESTING! You'll end up talking to yourself. And I warn you, it's frustrating.
And in no time it's 3 pm. Time my coworkers change shift. Dana leaves, Oana comes. I don't have time to say hi to her, cause I have to check for new stories, make a list and send it to the 6 o'clock newscast editor. And then I write, and I write. And then it's 6.
Should be time to go home. But traffic is hell in Bucharest at that hour. I can't cross the town to get home. It would cost me 2 hours of my life, spent with my foot stuck on the pedals - my car is a manual purple 1996 Daewood Tico giving her last breath for my sake. So I decide to stay a bit more. Maybe I should try to have a chat with a friend, but they are all too busy. I can't do anything else but understand. So I'm browsing around the Internet and I find myself on the same damn websites I search my stories on. And I get angry. I decide to leave. I get caught in traffic, spend an hour and a half on the damn bridge I have to cross to get home. I spend half an hour looking for a place to park close to the apartment building I live in. I finally get home, open the TV, open my laptop, talk to my co workers about the same damn things we do everyday. Makes me angry. The rest of the people I know are either not online or working on some project. And then my eyes get heavy and I fall asleep. With the newschannel on. So that I can get up in the morning when I hear the morning anchor's voice. My brain has already memorized her voice.
Exciting life, huh? Just a few more months. And then I'm off.
PS. YEAH, I'M SICK OF IT!
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