Hold On


My brother shared this song with me on Facebook last week. I was confused, to the say the least, as I wouldn’t say I’m a fan of Jack Parow. But, as my brother felt the need to share this with me, I decided to listen. Maybe it would be good for a laugh, at least.

That was Friday. It’s Wednesday now. I’ve been listening to it on repeat on and off. I think it’s because I keep coming back to this line: days too long, nights too short you just went to sleep, then you’re back at work


I’m standing at the kitchen door in our old house, keys in hand, bag slung over my shoulder, trying to will myself to open the door. If I open the door, I have to go to my car. If I go to my car, I have to get in and drive to work. If I drive to work, I have to get out of my car, go to my office, and do my job.

And I’m standing at the door, eyes closed, taking deep breaths, reminding myself that it isn’t that hard. I can do this. I can go to work and do my job.

Just… do it.

Open your eyes.

Push open the door.

Drive to work and do your job.

For a few moments, I’m completely paralysed. Leaving for work has become an act for which I must first brace myself and find the will to carry on.


I’ve once wrote about hating my previous job. I wrote it before I ever came to Korea, but was contemplating how my previous experience would help me. It’s one of the most read posts on my blog to date. A disheartening number of people seem to be searching “I hate my job” and “How do I stop hating my job?”, and that’s how they find me.

I had my doubts about leaving Korea, despite what I’ve written before. A huge part of that is job security. EPIK is certainly not as secure as it was – not by a long shot – but somehow still seemed less frightening that going out and job hunting and hoping for the best. While I’d committed to going back home, I hadn’t fully convinced myself that it wasn’t something I’d regret doing. I’ve had just enough of a taste of unemployment that the thought fucking terrifies me. I was about cave, say I’d stay just one more year… and then I found myself standing at my door one Saturday morning, just standing there, about to leave, but paralysed, trying to convince myself that I could do it – I could open the door, I could catch the bus, I could go to work.

I’ve found myself able to relate to songs like this before, but never more than now, when my days are too long, and my nights are too short. Work, sleep, work, sleep, work…

This song is telling me to do the only thing I can do: bambezela – hold on.



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