Tell me if you've experienced this.
You work a few days in a row - about 5. Early morning, you wake up after a late night (Because when else will you be able to socialize?) The Am doesn't seem to agree with you, and you bicker back and forth to try and free your trembling and exhausted muscles. You bargain - I'll take a shower if you just relax? Or I'll eat some breakfast if you pry my eyes open a little? You then drive to your job, windows open, music blaring, anything to keep yourself awake, and when you do get there, you pry yourself out of the driver's seat and trudge inside to report for duty, as it were.
And then the standing starts. And from the heels and flat of your foot to your knees, to your hips and to the base of your spine, and from there to between your shoulderblades and down the crook of your elbow, and the base of your skull oozes up this dull, uncomfortable throb. You find yourself shifting your weight, pacing, trying to shift the ache, dislodge it, distract yourself from it, but it doesn't seem to work. And when you look at the clock you realize that only about 2 hours of your 8 hour shift have gone by and you barely think you're gonna make it.
Anyone with me on this?
I think it's both keeping wonky hours and the amount of stress that keeps you tossing and turning at night. Those bouncing, unruly thoughts in your noggin are just as tiring as running a marathon, and when both ming AND body are exhausted, well what can you do?
I indulge in some nightly RP. (Yes. I do. I am proud of it, thank you.) I escape for a little while, and while that adventure is still in my head, I konk out, unable to keep my eyes open any longer. Or, for those of you less nerd-inclined, pop in a movie and watch until your eyes close and you dream about whats going on in the film. Or, if you have the capability (which I don't) take a nice hot bath, burn some scented candles, or play video games. OR you can be like my brother and go beat something up, chop down a tree, or build a rock wall.
Bottom line - SOME form of stress relief is KEY to better, happier life.
And less aches and pains.
Oru
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Friday, August 6, 2010
Dreams
Last night was a bad night.
I suffer from an overactive imagination. I will constantly zone out to song imagining epic scenescapes, doodle on my front desk paperwork, hum nonsense to myself, and yes, even roleplay with others to escape this 'reality' around me. (The suffocating mass that it is.) It is not uncommon for me to jump at a shadow after I try to freak out the otherplayers, yelp at a bug that brushes my cheek, or get edgy and near-hysterical after a particularly freaky movie. However, as with those things, I tend to recover rather quickly, and laugh at myself in a relative good-nature with those around me.
That being said, I'm sure it's not a very big surprise that I have very vivid dreams. I love my dreams. A good portion of the time, they treat me very well - gifting me with flight, or the ability to fend off legions of monsters or zombies, or even throw lightning. (You know, the cool stuff.) And yes, that goes the same for nightmares. My Love would tell you that I do, on occasion, wake up ina panic and pull him closer to protect myself from these ill-spirits I harbor. There have been a nice colorful handful involving blood and gore, the loss of loved ones, being chased with no escape - the usual stereotypes.
This last one I have never had before. Nothing like it, nothing I could even compare it to. Which is what kept me up for an hour or two after the jolt and panic and reaching for my Love like a life line.
Imagine yourself in bed, curled up on your side, with your Love's arm draped over your side and holding you close. Very nice. You'd had a migraine earlier, but he got you a cool rag and rubbed your temples until the pain became nothing more then a dull throb. An annoyance, really. So you shut your eyes, having stayed up tossing and turning from that annoyance until ungodly hours, pleased as punch that you'll get at least 4 hours of sleep for work the next day.
Then imagine yourself waking up in your dark room and you cannot move. The arm on your side is suddenly a hundred pounds and crushing you. And something intrinsic and instunctual tells you with a loud warning - this is not your love. Trying to turn your head is a painful process, forget about opening your mouth to scream. Not even a whisper can make it past the pressure in your side, and the sudden imposing darkness around you. Another thought, one that dwarfs thwe worry of your love is that your window is totally dark. Where lights from construction workers should be filterng in, there is nothing. So in your mind, you revert to the way of a child, the dependable methods of make-believe and say to yourself, If I close my eyes and go to sleep, it will all go away.
So you do. And you wake up. And imagine that everything seems normal. In fact, more then normal. You know that feeling you get, lets say after a wild party, and your body is so exhausted but you have to wake up in an hour, so you decide on a nap? Well the feeling after the alarm buzzes in your ear, and your body throws out a protest of aching joints, trembling limbs and the fear of the sudden jolt thudding in tune to your heart in your ears? Eyes blurred and straining, burning beneath the sockets as your body screams at you for being an idiot? Well, you wake up like that, thinking somehow your alarm went off. And of course, you panic, because if your alarm went off and it's not going right now then you are going to be REALLY late.
But then you can't move your arm. Imagine that as soona s you look down to see it, the weight returns to your side. And the dream repeats verbatim, and you think it's so real; the dryness of your mouth, the aching in your eyes, the claminess of your skin. So you think, maybe this time...
And then Imagine you wake up. And then imagine the intensity progressing deeper and deeper with each opening of your eyes to view this dark new world your subconscious has concocted. In flashes, compacting each following despair, each awakening into a short clip so that instead of fallign asleep, it feels like merely blinking your eyes and the scene resets. And you know all of this, you know it's happening, so at one point you try so hard, straining against your unconscious bonds to wake up. Just wake up!
And the arm on your waist gets tighter, and as you try to fight the dream, it's fighting you, pushing you harder, shifting shadows at just the right moment, having your Love's hands curl into desperate claws, and having you see out of your peripherals as you struggle his empty eyes staring ever forward, mouth slack-jawed and expression lost.
It feels like hours, waking and sleeping and waking and sleeping, and delerious with such the cries begin, from deep in your throat, and then from your belly, and the pitch goes up in a plea for help that noone but the shifting shadows answer. They only squeeze tighter around your waist, pressing from one side to break youi in half, and you start to curl around it, thrash against it, flail your arms to grab at your nightstand, the image int he mirror by your bed laughing, legs twisting in the reflection like shadowy snakes, toes hissing and turning on your laughing body, then you turn your eyes away, what else can you do? So you reach for the clothes on the floor and they melt away from your outstretched fingertips, and the arm squeezes, and so you curl around it, pulling your knees up close, expecting your own feet to consume you, and your hands reach up to pull on your hair to wake you, yanking violently, ripping and tearing,and the shriek in your throat comes out like the last dying breath of an animal, that blood curdling, bone chilling last noise as the breath whooshes fitfully out of your lungs...
And then Imagine waking up.
Oru
I suffer from an overactive imagination. I will constantly zone out to song imagining epic scenescapes, doodle on my front desk paperwork, hum nonsense to myself, and yes, even roleplay with others to escape this 'reality' around me. (The suffocating mass that it is.) It is not uncommon for me to jump at a shadow after I try to freak out the otherplayers, yelp at a bug that brushes my cheek, or get edgy and near-hysterical after a particularly freaky movie. However, as with those things, I tend to recover rather quickly, and laugh at myself in a relative good-nature with those around me.
That being said, I'm sure it's not a very big surprise that I have very vivid dreams. I love my dreams. A good portion of the time, they treat me very well - gifting me with flight, or the ability to fend off legions of monsters or zombies, or even throw lightning. (You know, the cool stuff.) And yes, that goes the same for nightmares. My Love would tell you that I do, on occasion, wake up ina panic and pull him closer to protect myself from these ill-spirits I harbor. There have been a nice colorful handful involving blood and gore, the loss of loved ones, being chased with no escape - the usual stereotypes.
This last one I have never had before. Nothing like it, nothing I could even compare it to. Which is what kept me up for an hour or two after the jolt and panic and reaching for my Love like a life line.
Imagine yourself in bed, curled up on your side, with your Love's arm draped over your side and holding you close. Very nice. You'd had a migraine earlier, but he got you a cool rag and rubbed your temples until the pain became nothing more then a dull throb. An annoyance, really. So you shut your eyes, having stayed up tossing and turning from that annoyance until ungodly hours, pleased as punch that you'll get at least 4 hours of sleep for work the next day.
Then imagine yourself waking up in your dark room and you cannot move. The arm on your side is suddenly a hundred pounds and crushing you. And something intrinsic and instunctual tells you with a loud warning - this is not your love. Trying to turn your head is a painful process, forget about opening your mouth to scream. Not even a whisper can make it past the pressure in your side, and the sudden imposing darkness around you. Another thought, one that dwarfs thwe worry of your love is that your window is totally dark. Where lights from construction workers should be filterng in, there is nothing. So in your mind, you revert to the way of a child, the dependable methods of make-believe and say to yourself, If I close my eyes and go to sleep, it will all go away.
So you do. And you wake up. And imagine that everything seems normal. In fact, more then normal. You know that feeling you get, lets say after a wild party, and your body is so exhausted but you have to wake up in an hour, so you decide on a nap? Well the feeling after the alarm buzzes in your ear, and your body throws out a protest of aching joints, trembling limbs and the fear of the sudden jolt thudding in tune to your heart in your ears? Eyes blurred and straining, burning beneath the sockets as your body screams at you for being an idiot? Well, you wake up like that, thinking somehow your alarm went off. And of course, you panic, because if your alarm went off and it's not going right now then you are going to be REALLY late.
But then you can't move your arm. Imagine that as soona s you look down to see it, the weight returns to your side. And the dream repeats verbatim, and you think it's so real; the dryness of your mouth, the aching in your eyes, the claminess of your skin. So you think, maybe this time...
And then Imagine you wake up. And then imagine the intensity progressing deeper and deeper with each opening of your eyes to view this dark new world your subconscious has concocted. In flashes, compacting each following despair, each awakening into a short clip so that instead of fallign asleep, it feels like merely blinking your eyes and the scene resets. And you know all of this, you know it's happening, so at one point you try so hard, straining against your unconscious bonds to wake up. Just wake up!
And the arm on your waist gets tighter, and as you try to fight the dream, it's fighting you, pushing you harder, shifting shadows at just the right moment, having your Love's hands curl into desperate claws, and having you see out of your peripherals as you struggle his empty eyes staring ever forward, mouth slack-jawed and expression lost.
It feels like hours, waking and sleeping and waking and sleeping, and delerious with such the cries begin, from deep in your throat, and then from your belly, and the pitch goes up in a plea for help that noone but the shifting shadows answer. They only squeeze tighter around your waist, pressing from one side to break youi in half, and you start to curl around it, thrash against it, flail your arms to grab at your nightstand, the image int he mirror by your bed laughing, legs twisting in the reflection like shadowy snakes, toes hissing and turning on your laughing body, then you turn your eyes away, what else can you do? So you reach for the clothes on the floor and they melt away from your outstretched fingertips, and the arm squeezes, and so you curl around it, pulling your knees up close, expecting your own feet to consume you, and your hands reach up to pull on your hair to wake you, yanking violently, ripping and tearing,and the shriek in your throat comes out like the last dying breath of an animal, that blood curdling, bone chilling last noise as the breath whooshes fitfully out of your lungs...
And then Imagine waking up.
Oru
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
"Room with a view of HELL"
Tales from the Shift. Though I enjoy regaling you with stories of the folly of my workplace, I feel it is somewhat overdone. Then of course, I discover I don't really have anywhere else to talk about, and end up doing it anyway. Like right now!
Housekeeping is the bane of my existance. Yes. It is a large black dragon that sucks the life out of me and incinerates me with a belch just before laughing and growling into the ash-filled sky. Yes I know. You don't get the reference, but thats ok. The point is - It is the bane of my existance.
So of course, I agree to do it every sunday and monday until a 'replacement' is 'found'. Which naturally means that they would have to be 'looking' for 'someone' to take the job. And of course none of the current housekeepers are really 'qualified' to 'handle' such a 'delicate' position.
Translation: "Hey Jess, We are FAR too cheap and FAR too lazy to actually LOOK for someone - so that means YOU are stuck with it until someone MIRACULOUSLY comes along."
...
This, usually, would be fine. Better pay, wonky hours, whatever. However, that is not the case. The extenuating circumstances - namely the troll in residence's horrific mood swings and personal sh*t invading the workspace, as well as the sincerely NOT dependable task force of the housekeeping staff itself - AS WELL AS the ever-obnoxious, repetetive, name-changing, slow minded houseman that does things JUST to annoy you - Make it a job that is seriously 100% NOT worth the stress.
I can see why the last girl had a nervous breakdown and started crying in the housekeeping office. It is, in fact, rediculous. I, myself have been throwing my application around like candy to anyone who will take it from me - and leaving it stuffed in mailboxes for those who won't. You know what I think it is? And I didn't think about this until a friend of mine pointed it out.... but maybe I am overqualified. And perhaps my previous paychecks are not within most employer's price ranges? I personally think it's the economy and the state of it ... (i.e. crap) ... but naturally, in those stressed-out, high-strung, eye-twitching moments, I can't help thinking that this sh*t hole is the only place that will take me.
Which, if you worked here, would depress you even more. I apologize.
WHich brings me to the rant of the day: (which will not be expanded upon further then the next sentence, at least on here)
WHY does every single freakin HOUSEKEEPER have some sort of injury they don't realize they have until either a: They're already 20 minutes late, b: they've only done 2 out of f*ck-knows-how-many rooms or c: their friend has a day off mysteriously when their shoulder craps out?
Grr.
Oru
Housekeeping is the bane of my existance. Yes. It is a large black dragon that sucks the life out of me and incinerates me with a belch just before laughing and growling into the ash-filled sky. Yes I know. You don't get the reference, but thats ok. The point is - It is the bane of my existance.
So of course, I agree to do it every sunday and monday until a 'replacement' is 'found'. Which naturally means that they would have to be 'looking' for 'someone' to take the job. And of course none of the current housekeepers are really 'qualified' to 'handle' such a 'delicate' position.
Translation: "Hey Jess, We are FAR too cheap and FAR too lazy to actually LOOK for someone - so that means YOU are stuck with it until someone MIRACULOUSLY comes along."
...
This, usually, would be fine. Better pay, wonky hours, whatever. However, that is not the case. The extenuating circumstances - namely the troll in residence's horrific mood swings and personal sh*t invading the workspace, as well as the sincerely NOT dependable task force of the housekeeping staff itself - AS WELL AS the ever-obnoxious, repetetive, name-changing, slow minded houseman that does things JUST to annoy you - Make it a job that is seriously 100% NOT worth the stress.
I can see why the last girl had a nervous breakdown and started crying in the housekeeping office. It is, in fact, rediculous. I, myself have been throwing my application around like candy to anyone who will take it from me - and leaving it stuffed in mailboxes for those who won't. You know what I think it is? And I didn't think about this until a friend of mine pointed it out.... but maybe I am overqualified. And perhaps my previous paychecks are not within most employer's price ranges? I personally think it's the economy and the state of it ... (i.e. crap) ... but naturally, in those stressed-out, high-strung, eye-twitching moments, I can't help thinking that this sh*t hole is the only place that will take me.
Which, if you worked here, would depress you even more. I apologize.
WHich brings me to the rant of the day: (which will not be expanded upon further then the next sentence, at least on here)
WHY does every single freakin HOUSEKEEPER have some sort of injury they don't realize they have until either a: They're already 20 minutes late, b: they've only done 2 out of f*ck-knows-how-many rooms or c: their friend has a day off mysteriously when their shoulder craps out?
Grr.
Oru
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