For those keeping score...

Last nights nightmare was a surreal conglomeration of no less than 15 aspects of my life as represented by the persons who participated in last nights revel. I don't remember how it began. The middle was my sisters wedding which took place in the yard of a Burtonesque just House collaged with a variety of houses that I have admired. The party lights surrounding the yard that lead down to a Cape Fear kind of picturesque beach were bobbleheads of disgruntled persons from my past in Seth MacFarlane cartoon style. Some of them talked. After the ceremony and the reception, we all decided to go down to the beach... at almost midnight with a full moon rising high in an indigo sky. The waves crashed and seemed to encourage bravado from some of the guests. As we were frolicking on Empire's sandy shore [Empire is a village near TC], Kathy noticed there were fireworks. Laura and the rest of the party gathered and we plopped down to watch. Eric and his kids seemed less mezmerized than the rest of us.
Suddenly the far shore, which in real life would have been Wisconsin, came closer to us. As the fireworks brightened with wild color and frenzied patterns I noticed a skyline... big city type. Then someone said "Ha ha. That's funny." What?
"We're watching fireworks over the Empire state from Empire beach."
I was just about to wake myself with a scream when blazing colors streaked across the moon and it turned a shade of putrid violet red. Patrick Stewart's voice then announced the end of the foolish human race as a fanged mouth envoloped the moon...
Captain Picard the Antichrist? Who knew....
yea all that on Nyquill. I don't even want to know what something stronger would do to my mind but this has to stop.

Inspections

We had them today. And as usual housekeeping is holding the whole place back. We have one ofthe cleanest hotels in the city. The cleanest in the Medallion ratings and when the inspector comes its all for shit. Oh, we improved over the last inspection. But it wasn't good enough. The big guy actually fumed. Neither Linda nor I are Nazi's about things. It doesn't work to go all Sellers on people. Even in this economy, if you make a hostile/aggressive work environment, people will leave. And we have been short handed forever.
And it isn't like we don't work hard. No one is slacking off. We've been busting our buts. We have a very specific issue and it has two causes: deriliction of lint trap cleaning duties and someone refuses to spend money on the supplies that we ask for. So the "Work Faster" answer to everything remains the standard. There is no work smarter. We're the grunts. Any idiot can clean a room so we get treated like idiots. And I guess that is where I have to realize things are.
This is not going to be what I do for the rest of my life. I just have to stabilize my life enough to get into something else.
I know what. But its the getting there.
And I guess, since I know I won't be here forever. And it hasn't done anything to get my brother's approval (no, I don't still want it.) it's time to face facts that I just don't care about making the work environment better. Every suggestion I have made has yielded indifference, disdain or aggravated antagonism from other departments. And I still fume over the "Work faster" response when I asked where my help was, especially after I just threw extra hours into laundry when they were short. NIce. Sometimes you can't cahnge the world. And sometimes its better to quit trying if the alternative is becoming embittered.

In a related post...

Why is it that I can have these horribly messed up and delusionally paranoid dreams while I am having halucinogenic fevers but I never get the impossibly hot guy with impossibly hotter intentions intending anything toward me. I mean crap... its fantasy. Its a frakking dreamland and all I ever get is a lousy t-shirt that only makes sense to me! It is sooooo unfa...
uh-oh...
Why do I shuddenly feel as though I have just, completely unintentionally asked my brain to do something completely-not-what-I-wanted horrible to me tonight? The words repression and sublimation come to mind in a faint and totally horrible Austrian accent laid down over ghostly Vincent Price cackling...
I dread sleep tonight. I may not sleep until the fever passes. What horrible things this sci-fi drenched and virally heated mind will wreak...
[gulps] zoinks.

chants: please don't let it be ferengi please don't let it be ferengi please please please please not them. Any thing but them. Well almost. Well no....

Screw it. I'm never sleeping again.

As the sinus drains

I am left pondering the weirdness of the dreams/nightmares I have had in the last few days. In one, KACL ubernerd, Noel Shemsky bites it as a security guard who forgets that he is guarding the very person he is driving mad with incessant questions about the Star Trek set when BLAMO! masked gunment storm the highrise office building. In another dream there are moles in my alphabet soup... I hate the stuff. And last nights wake with terror was a delightful bit of spoofing in which several D&D good guys go up against some Star Trek bad guys with some horrific finger snapping, Westside Story choreography while David Hewlett/Rodney McKay emcees.
One could ask what I was smoking/eating/drinking/shooting/inhaling. One could ask what i hit my head on. One could also ask if there is a Psychiatrist in the house. But largely I think the question should be... how high can your fever go before your brain melts all of the files in your head so that they run together into a huge ass Dalian freakshow and still leave you with any senses?
Yes, that is the question. F 2bornot2b.

Something to Ponder

I often find something Jarod says to be of use later in life. The writers for the Pretender are either extremely empathic or have found a way to use the shite in their personal lives for something good, because there is profound wisdom in the comfort that he gives to Miss Parker. Sidney is full of good words too, but today's tidbit comes from J man himself:

"Sometimes the things that scare you the most can be the things that save your life."

I will have to ponder this thought. It stood out so that means there is something to learn there. I just cannot see what it is at the moment. I don't think he meant the usuall phobias: snakes, thunder, heights. I think he meant the things that are buried deeply in the psyche. Fear of the dark, perhaps? Fear of the unknown? I don't know. Like I said I will have to ponder this some.

Maybe the people that you trust or don't trust? Fear of being alone forever? Fear of... but is fear of something the same as being scared? Scared is an adrenal thing that you kinda get over fast. Fear is an insidious thing that doesn't always let you see clearly. I see a difference, maybe there isn't one.
Well... I'm off to ponder.

Seduction of the technophobe

So, I am cruising through the aisles at Office Max after completing my mission to find packing material to secure [at least in my mind] my possessions with Rube Goldbergian sureity when I see IT. This thing that will suck money from me faster than iTunes, faster than a DVD sale at Best Buy, is, as the marketing gurus have said, the right color, the color that will make people absolutely buy what they don't have the money for.
I don't have 30.00 plus tax to spend on a gadget. But I have a need for it, legitimate, solves an eternal and infernal conundrum and it is... perfect. I am resisting its pull. But as we all know, resistance is futile. The only question now is how long can I resist its ergonomicentricity*, the way it fits my palm perfectly, its size and weight in my hand? How long can I resist its pearlescence... its shimmer... the look that begs to be used? How long can I resist its attempts to seduce me into the techno era with complete and utter surrender...


Okay smart ass I will ask Mr. Owl... sheesh do you people do anything besides what TV?

*ergonomicentricity: adj. new word developed by the author to describe a state of having an intrinsic quality of ergonomic design.

Hrmph

What I should be doing is repacking my stuff. Since bro launched his internet invite gargae sale things have gotten a little messy. I've dragged and stacked the stuff in an organized pile and made a definate line of demarcation. How ever it is completely in disarray. And if I don't repack, seal the boxes with stretch wrap and put packing slips on them then I will never make certain that things don't get lifted. But I am only able to keep my head up for a while. Standing upright is not an option though I can sit. Yep... it's the seasonal crap.
I was doing so good working all kinds of hours and getting stuff done. But I must have over done it. Now I just want to take my eyes out of my head and listen to more podcasts. There are a variety of things that I want to post about. But right now... this is it.

Surprise

I am really enjoying this new tech era. i thought that I would hate it. For one, I was expecting to find out that I really am not a geek and should immediately surrender my geekcard to the proper agency. For two, I expected that I would be found by the wrong people and harassed more than I already am. But mostly I expected this to be another arena in which I epicly fail to win friends and influence people. Read: rejection. So mostly I enjoy lurking about the celeb pages on twitter and enjoying the hell out of the randomness, try to impress the wheaton enough to get a reply [which would be why I'm not getting any] and just watching the way life unfolds. This is comfortable. I have always been a watcher, an observer of behavior so that I can educate myself and hopefully not make the huge blundering mistakes that blow out starship hulls and get my redshirted self vaporized ala Tasha Yar. It also makes it easier to help people in my unprofessional armchair psychiatry role as a non Betazoid empath. So today's trip through the Twitterverse was shocking.
One of the people I follow has been having an issue with his celebrity status and lack of contingency. So, what I read as a running joke, I also recognize as a bandaid on an open wound. As I did for my friend this weekend, I sent him something encouraging. Flippant but encouraging. Of ocurse I never expect the celebs to read what I send. But someone in the industry reads him and made a comment about my comment.
I have been so star struck and stupefied that I haven't been back to look at what is going on. I mean, I mean I love this guy. Not in that stalkeratti way most of the girls in my class loved Ricky Schroeder. I mean in the way that you can't wait to see what great things your friends are doing. He had a fish-out-of-water character that I related to. And in other things I've seen him in I have found his performances to be delightful... hitting on Lilith was a bit creepy but fun since it kept Frasier off her radar. I guess I am a natural cheerleader because I love to say "yea you" to people that I admire. Kinda like the Wheaton thing. And I will say he didn't get enough lines in the Family Guy episode. So basically I had an epic "meet your hero" fail.
Facepalm. Recover. Facepalm. Sigh.
Anything clever I had in my head went Poof. My mind is frozen with a running OMG dialog with What Do I Do Now chorus of screeches. I feel like Ed Grimley after having lost his triangle before a big symphony performance, I really must say. I know I put pressure on myself. And I tried to figure out where I know the commenter from. I've run across her several times but for the life of me I can't figure out just where she fits into this puzzle. While it would be great to have this idea be a launch for something truly amazing, I am afraid that it is one of those fleeting things that means much in the moment but nothing so much in future moments. Still... how cool?!