Fits and starts
A stretch of two weeks with little sleep, lots of stress, and no time on the bike has left me ragged. I can tell when I'm red-lining by the quality of my sleep. I meant to sleep in this morning as it was a Saturday, but despite rolling around in bed until 3 in the morning, I got up at 8:00 feeling tired and sleepy but unable to achieve REM. I hate this inability to sleep in on Saturday mornings. There must be some sort of remedy--maybe I need to do a long ride on Friday night.
I passed out on the sofa at noon and had a nightmare in which a friend and I were under attack by the U.S. army. We were hiding out in some house across the street from a gas station, out in the middle of nowhere, and an entire legion of tanks, helicopters, and soldiers were putting us under heavy fire. Fortunately, there was a gigantic, mounted machine gun (the kind you see on battleships, with a cockpit) and I was sitting in it returning fire, blowing helicopters out of the sky, shredding soldiers with gunfire like they were cardboard targets. Then I threw about four grenades across the street at the gas station and my friend and I sprinted into the house as the whole world blew up behind us. In the garage, we located a gold Camry with keys in the ignition. I told my friend (can't remember who it was) to get the car started and rushed back into the house to pick up some weapons for the road. We were fugitives now.
Up the stairs and into the bedroom where I begin throwing weapons into a duffel bag. Voices behind me. The door shatters inwards and a whole bunch of soldiers in riot gear rush in, jump me, and begin beating me with their feet and rifle butts. I wake up with my heart going double time.
It's one of those dreams which I knew immediately was about work in a way that only the dreamer can interpret in a way that's more than intuition. It's that direct channel to the subconscious.
The few times I save an evening or a few hours for myself, it feels like I'm coming up for air after a long time underwater. Big heaving gulps, blinded by sunlight, look around to get bearings, and then down below again. Hard to keep much of a social calendar when all the desirable hours are blocked off. Cancel an appointment with someone and my next open spot is two weeks later. Since I'm not a restaurant, that's nothing to be proud of.
Maybe I need to fly to Europe next year and purchase a pair of these.
Speaking of design, is there any lower quality product than the plastic CD jewel case? Just about one out of two CDs I receive in the mail arrives in a cracked jewel case. You would think after decades of study in the field of plastics that they could design a CD case that wouldn't crack if dropped on the ground. Music labels probably contract out for the lowest grade plastic available to maximize their already ridiculous profit margins on each CD sold. In a day and age when most people with computers have CD burners and can buy blank CD-Rs in bulk for next to nothing, the continued existence of $14.99 price points on new CDs is an affront to consumer intelligence.
I passed out on the sofa at noon and had a nightmare in which a friend and I were under attack by the U.S. army. We were hiding out in some house across the street from a gas station, out in the middle of nowhere, and an entire legion of tanks, helicopters, and soldiers were putting us under heavy fire. Fortunately, there was a gigantic, mounted machine gun (the kind you see on battleships, with a cockpit) and I was sitting in it returning fire, blowing helicopters out of the sky, shredding soldiers with gunfire like they were cardboard targets. Then I threw about four grenades across the street at the gas station and my friend and I sprinted into the house as the whole world blew up behind us. In the garage, we located a gold Camry with keys in the ignition. I told my friend (can't remember who it was) to get the car started and rushed back into the house to pick up some weapons for the road. We were fugitives now.
Up the stairs and into the bedroom where I begin throwing weapons into a duffel bag. Voices behind me. The door shatters inwards and a whole bunch of soldiers in riot gear rush in, jump me, and begin beating me with their feet and rifle butts. I wake up with my heart going double time.
It's one of those dreams which I knew immediately was about work in a way that only the dreamer can interpret in a way that's more than intuition. It's that direct channel to the subconscious.
The few times I save an evening or a few hours for myself, it feels like I'm coming up for air after a long time underwater. Big heaving gulps, blinded by sunlight, look around to get bearings, and then down below again. Hard to keep much of a social calendar when all the desirable hours are blocked off. Cancel an appointment with someone and my next open spot is two weeks later. Since I'm not a restaurant, that's nothing to be proud of.
Why don't they just make the phone out of that stuff
Late in the office one night last week, I heard a cell phone going off in the office next door to mine. At the same time, the picture on my monitor began vibrating with each ring, producing a buzzing noise at the same time. I'm used to seeing that type of disturbance when my own cell phone goes off, but this phone was ringing on the other side of a wall! Frightening.Maybe I need to fly to Europe next year and purchase a pair of these.
Speaking of design, is there any lower quality product than the plastic CD jewel case? Just about one out of two CDs I receive in the mail arrives in a cracked jewel case. You would think after decades of study in the field of plastics that they could design a CD case that wouldn't crack if dropped on the ground. Music labels probably contract out for the lowest grade plastic available to maximize their already ridiculous profit margins on each CD sold. In a day and age when most people with computers have CD burners and can buy blank CD-Rs in bulk for next to nothing, the continued existence of $14.99 price points on new CDs is an affront to consumer intelligence.