Sometimes I think: I should quit my job. It makes no sense for me to continue working there, I am bored most of the time, my boss isn’t half as nice as he used to be, I could be doing something that actually develops my skills rather than half-utilises them. I could be working somewhere, you know, exciting. And, dammit, I could make more money than I do now AND enjoy it better. Also the fact that they are now used to me working fast, always making the deadlines, providing high quality solutions and solving unsolvable problems means it’s not really possible to impress them; worse, they now want more. If you gave it 100% for three years and now your bosses want more, perhaps you’re better off excusing yourself and moving on?

Sometimes though I think: in this economy it is madness to throw away a permanent contract, especially when I have a mortgage to pay. I don’t really need more money. And excitement? Do I really need excitement from my job? Perhaps I just need security? Boss used to be nicer, but really, compared to the Meryl Streep character in The Devil Wears Prada, my boss is an angel who quietly flies through the sky playing his harp while his wings make quiet tinkling noises. What if I get an amazing job that pays shitloads but I have to cope with a Streep-like character? I wouldn’t last an hour. And actually am I as talented as I like to sometimes imagine I am…?

Sometimes I think: This isn’t working for me. I am not made for a relationship with one man, I can’t imagine us moving in together, I can’t imagine this going any further than it already is, really. True, we love each other, but I’m just not old enough for this. Not yet. Maybe in a year or two. But now… I still want to meet other guys. And… we’re not really compatible in many ways, from alarm clocks through food habits through choice of holidays through books we read through… And I can see this going wrong not even five years from now, but three months.

Sometimes though I think: I love this man, and we have amazing sex, and we have a good time together. He teaches me so much. He is gorgeous, smart, sweet, sexy, you fill in the blanks. Perhaps it doesn’t matter that he isn’t what I expected my boyfriend/husband would be. Perhaps he doesn’t need to. Perhaps I should just get over myself and start thinking of a logistically simple way to move in together. And really, it’s been eight months now, and we’ve been through good times, worse times and amazing times, we’ve had fights and we’ve learned to make up. Isn’t that what a perfect relationship should be like? If I throw this away, will I be a complete doofus?

Sometimes I think: the book I am writing will be amazing, and it will be so different from all the other books on the subject. It will make me famous and rich and I will become a professional writer with his own column in some magazine (that is, until all magazines go bankrupt in 2011 the latest). I should spend less time playing The Sims, listening to music while being stoned and reading DListed, and I should spend more time working on the book.

Sometimes though I think: this is useless. Nobody will want to print this crap. Why would they? There are THOUSANDS of similar books. Except written by native English speakers with amazing command of language. And there are further thousands of books that do NOT get printed despite being written by native English speakers with amazing command of language, because there is simply a limited amount of space in the market. Plus, in this economy, etc. (I personally know a writer who signed a contract, got an advance, then the publishing house withdrew the book from its plans because of the crisis — they let him keep the advance though.)

(Oh, of course he is a native English speaker with amazing command of language.)

Sometimes I think: I should make decisions faster and not ponder on them for weeks and months no end.

Sometimes I think: I make decisions far too fast and I should think much more before I decide, especially on important matters.

Sometimes I think grass is always greener on the other side.