Today was weird. Shortly after I arrived at work, I noticed I was feeling decidedly edgy and more than a little grumpy. I wondered if someone had spiked my tea with coffee or five extra teabags. A nervy current thrummed across my muscles, pushing my shoulders up to my ears and flicking my toes in my still-stinky sandals and twitching my fingers on the pen. I felt like a green filly at her first race, overfit and spooking at the crowd, except there was no crowd and it wasn't a race or my first day or first anything.
I think the weirdness started when I found myself swimming to consciousness at 5:30 this morning, trying to escape a nightmare in which I had just gotten fired, one of two scapegoats from some incident involving shit and a fan (in reality my workplace is not like this at all). But I just officially gave up a permanent position with an organization reputed for its cushy and reliable permanence, and Sugar D's recent experience with organizational amputation has reminded me that nothing's permanent. In my dream, I didn't have enough experience with the company to even merit a package, a terrifying prospect when Sugar D is also unemployed right now (in real life, I would merit a package of some kind).
I suppose it's a pretty standard anxiety dream, except that last night I went to bed thinking about how my blog has jumped the shark and I'm not getting as many comments as I have. I've also been feeling pretty discouraged that no-one's really looking at my photos on flickr. The images that I like the best are only getting anywhere from zero to five views, never mind comments or anything like that. I know I need to comment more, both on flickr and in bloggyland but still... shouldn't someone enjoy my photographs on flickr? So in my dream, after I found out I was fired as a scapegoat and discovered we would shortly become destitute, I realized I could blog about it, and surely that would get more comments. I woke up trying to compose a short post.
I am ashamed at what a comment whore I am, at how my dream has shown me up to myself. (And, um, well look at that... I'm blogging about it.) Mad's words also keep ringing in my ears: "I need to remember what is was like to live life without experiencing every moment as potential blog fodder." And damn it, I just miss her.
Anyways, I spent the day grumpy and impotent. And now it's time for So You Think You Can Dance.
PS I didn't get fired.
Weekend Reading: The Trying to Rally Edition
2 days ago