At some point on Sunday evening, I lost all my patience for cleverness and constant attempts at humor. I was even dangerously close to acting out my favorite piece of movie dialogue on an acquaintance ("How's that working out for you? Being clever? Keep it up.") but I wisely just kept my mouth shut rather than alienate someone I don't know very well. Though actually I might have just been tired of all forms of conversation and talking and social interaction, which has somewhat persisted to today. I think I was so socially active this weekend that I'm still recharging my alone-time/down-time battery and sleeping, while an important health component, doesn't really count towards that.
This morning the alarm went off and I was quite close to turning it off, calling in sick to work again, then going back to sleep. But I'm here and I'm emotionally detached. Or so I tell myself. More that despite being tired, I'm in a pretty good mood and there's no reason to waste that on work, so I put it away to use later this evening.
Last night I dreamt I got shot. The bullet went through my side, right around where my right kidney is, in the front and out the back -- I remember feeling the hole. It happened during some sort of war that I had been drafted for, and I remember events leading up to the skirmish but then I woke up in a military hospital with no memory of the actual injury (except a vague notion that it happened at near point-blank range). It happened in the morning, and by lunchtime I was patched up, discharged from the ward, and walking around gingerly, killing time before I was told I could get my purple heart and go home, that I didn't have to fight someone else's ridiculous war that I didn't believe in. In fact, I was somewhat elated by my injury, even though it hurt like hell, because it was a way out. A couple times I had to remember I was hurt and not act too happy and risk being put back on the front. The only person in the dream I remember being there was Differently Paced Co-worker, who is also my co-worker I've known the longest (she was my supervisor when I started interning here and later tipped me off to the job opening). So some meanings of the dream are quite obvious to me, but I'm curious as to the placement of the injury. I'm still having psychic memories of the sensations, several hours later.
This morning the alarm went off and I was quite close to turning it off, calling in sick to work again, then going back to sleep. But I'm here and I'm emotionally detached. Or so I tell myself. More that despite being tired, I'm in a pretty good mood and there's no reason to waste that on work, so I put it away to use later this evening.
Last night I dreamt I got shot. The bullet went through my side, right around where my right kidney is, in the front and out the back -- I remember feeling the hole. It happened during some sort of war that I had been drafted for, and I remember events leading up to the skirmish but then I woke up in a military hospital with no memory of the actual injury (except a vague notion that it happened at near point-blank range). It happened in the morning, and by lunchtime I was patched up, discharged from the ward, and walking around gingerly, killing time before I was told I could get my purple heart and go home, that I didn't have to fight someone else's ridiculous war that I didn't believe in. In fact, I was somewhat elated by my injury, even though it hurt like hell, because it was a way out. A couple times I had to remember I was hurt and not act too happy and risk being put back on the front. The only person in the dream I remember being there was Differently Paced Co-worker, who is also my co-worker I've known the longest (she was my supervisor when I started interning here and later tipped me off to the job opening). So some meanings of the dream are quite obvious to me, but I'm curious as to the placement of the injury. I'm still having psychic memories of the sensations, several hours later.