🎶 Guess who’s back?
Mark is back.
Tell a friend. 🎶
Or don’t tell a friend. I don’t care.
That’s a lie. I do care. I care a lot. Tell all your friends. Tell some strangers. Tell your grandparents. Tell the whole damn world!
Let me calm down.
So, hi. How are you guys?
First, I’d like to start with an apology. I haven’t posted anything in a long time. Five weeks! Yikes! I am ashamed. But I have a good excuse, though. I’ve been on strike.
For the last few weeks, I have been waking up early every day and heading to my workplace. Not to work, because that defeats the purpose of being on strike, but to stand in the hot and raging sun and listen to people air their grievances. I have sung poorly written songs of solidarity and chanted made-up words at no one in particular because as a union member, these things have to be done. I have watched the senior staff struggle with the words of the National Anthem – which is weird since some of them look like they could have actually written the National Anthem. (Yes, they’re that old).
In all fairness and honesty, I spent half the time looking for a patch of shade to shield my scalp from the nefarious rays of the midday sun. The other half of the time was split between zoning out and daydreaming; wondering why no one has made invisible earphones; and calculating salary percentages. (Turns out ten percent isn’t a lot. Who knew? Makes it so much easier to pay tithe now).
Union strikes are too much work though. And they last forever! (You may have noticed). Oh, the monotony! How boring is striking as a work union you ask?
I just fell asleep with my finger on the keyboard, that’s how boring it was.
Striking as a student union, however, that’s exciting. And short. Although I have *cough* never been on the frontlines of a student strike, I watch the news occasionally. All they do is cardio. There’s so much running. So much singing. So much brandishing of crude weapons. There’s this whole YOLO vibe except here it’s YOSO (You Only Strike Once) but if you do it right, once is enough.
Striking students are like a swarm of locusts. They come out in hordes and make all this buzz and leave a trail of total destruction behind them. An almost permanent “We were here” stamp. Good thing is, they wreak havoc only for a day or two then they go home and binge on rubbish TV till the school administrators decide they want to teach you again.
It’s funny being on the other side of the divide. Funny meaning strange and not at all humorous.
So now I’m back at work and I have finished most of the work I had procrastinated in January before the strike began. Procrastination is always a good idea.
Again, sorry for the long hiatus.
In other news, I moved to a new place. That should be interesting to write about, yes? No?