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Friday, August 18, 2006
Decay
Few months ago before I took on my soon-to-be-defunct job, I was attached to another small ad agency. It lasted a week. Ever since then, the time I served there has been the butt of many jokes. It was a 'graveyard' company, as a friend put it.
As I was walking back to my car this evening, I mused that my current company was slowly becoming a graveyard itself. Z, the creative director had left. My other colleagues were running around going for interviews. The other two partners were out most of the time. Even when everyone else is in, there is an unmistakable quietness in the air, deafening over the loud chatter between my colleagues, the rapid clacking of the keyboards, and the loud music blaring from the senior designer's speakers. I guess that was when I smelt the stench of decay, not just of the company, but my own. I feel like I'm rotting inside, slowly dying with every second that passes by. I don't feel like doing my work anymore, nor do I know why I'm even doing my work for. It all seems pointless as the stench of decay overwhelms me.
A few days ago, Significant Other was talking to me about how he heard Western Europe was slowly dying. "People there don't have a sense of urgency," he said. "They just sit at home everyday and watch TV. It's as if they're waiting for their time to die." He shudders. "I can't live in a place like that."
It reminded me at once of the surface world in Texhnolyze. How it was much older, and more technologically advanced than the underground world, but its citizens were slowly dying, living only in memory. They had forgotten what it was like to live, waiting instead for their deaths. Their world was beautiful, but devoid of life. Decaying.
"You know, we feel really bad about the whole thing. You can stay employed till you find yourself a job," one of the partners say. I can't. Because the more I stay, the more I feel like I'm dying inside, digging my own grave in this graveyard.
Decaying.
And I don't belong there.
As I was walking back to my car this evening, I mused that my current company was slowly becoming a graveyard itself. Z, the creative director had left. My other colleagues were running around going for interviews. The other two partners were out most of the time. Even when everyone else is in, there is an unmistakable quietness in the air, deafening over the loud chatter between my colleagues, the rapid clacking of the keyboards, and the loud music blaring from the senior designer's speakers. I guess that was when I smelt the stench of decay, not just of the company, but my own. I feel like I'm rotting inside, slowly dying with every second that passes by. I don't feel like doing my work anymore, nor do I know why I'm even doing my work for. It all seems pointless as the stench of decay overwhelms me.
A few days ago, Significant Other was talking to me about how he heard Western Europe was slowly dying. "People there don't have a sense of urgency," he said. "They just sit at home everyday and watch TV. It's as if they're waiting for their time to die." He shudders. "I can't live in a place like that."
It reminded me at once of the surface world in Texhnolyze. How it was much older, and more technologically advanced than the underground world, but its citizens were slowly dying, living only in memory. They had forgotten what it was like to live, waiting instead for their deaths. Their world was beautiful, but devoid of life. Decaying.
"You know, we feel really bad about the whole thing. You can stay employed till you find yourself a job," one of the partners say. I can't. Because the more I stay, the more I feel like I'm dying inside, digging my own grave in this graveyard.
Decaying.
And I don't belong there.
Published by: whiterabbit # 8/18/2006 02:09:00 am 
Comments:
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Well, I'm definitely going to try. Not because I really want to, but because I think they're the only ones still hiring people at this time of the year.
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