Happy birthday to me. I’m 28 now. Fun. I guess.
Now… if people would just take a break from being excited about ‘Murica and STOP setting off their fireworks or shooting their guns or whatever they’re up to that’s keeping the dogs on edge and barking, I’d be super excited.
Because then I could sleep.
See…on Wednesday, we had a lock-in for the crew, and I stayed overnight for that…24 hours, no problem. Felt funky, but not cross or sick when I went back to sleep around 9am…
(Well, okay, excluding the conversation I was having with myself when I drove home and kept…mmm…startling a little because I’d think I was seeing other cars from the corner of my eye and there’d be nothing there–
Me: You should definitely not be driving–I mean, you’re hallucinating. You realize that, right?
Wolf-Me: *SUPER cheerful from too much energy drink* Don’t you worry. I got this!
Me: Yeah…okay… *braces for impact*)
Saturday (yesterday?), on the other hand…I slept for about 4 hours and then opened, and felt awful at work and then couldn’t go to sleep when I came home because it wasn’t nighttime and it also wasn’t so early that my family was still being quiet like after the lock-in…so I stayed awake. And then the stupid fireworks started and I am SO TIRED now. And sick, because my officemates bring their germs to work and they like to share them.
Still…stupid national holidays…why is it that I live in a country where we like loud noises so much? >.<”
On the flip side, I wore a red shirt to work today for the first time, and an employee who had previously not been a part of the ongoing jokes about communism got really, really excited about making communism jokes regarding said red shirt…
We also did productive things like make new chickie murder scenes.
It started out with just the temple and a volcano (the volcano’s out of frame, but you can imagine it, I’m sure), and someone mentioned it looking like an Indiana Jones scene and that we should make a new hat for Lucky chicken…but I was feeling lazy and said that maybe we could make an Indiana Jones hat with origami, but that folding isn’t one of my particular talents…
So, later, nothing’s going on, and I find some of my employees reading origami tutorials, and this conversation happens–
Me: Oh, hey. Are you making an attempt to fold new hats after all?
Corinne: I don’t think I can do that. I don’t even know what Nazi hats look like.
Me: Woah, wait. What? That doesn’t sound anything like we talked about earlier…
Joe: So what were you talking about earlier?
Me: Indiana Jones! He’s got a very specific hat.
Rashelle: Yeah, and he’s definitely not a Nazi. Are you sure that’s what you talked about?
Corinne: Yeah, yep. It is. Indiana Jones. That was what I meant to say.
Joe: I can’t even guess how you’d get the two mixed up.
Me: It’s not her. It’s me, I’m sure. My mere presence has become a trigger for this kind of thing…
And there was this one, too–
Joe: *over radio* Can I get help from a manager?
Me: *respond* Yeah, hang on.
Joe: Nevermind. We found another solution.
Paris: *looks at me before radioing* So, Joe…would you say it’s the final solution?
Me: *horrified* You can’t say that over the radio! *shoots him with rubber bands*
For reals though. They played Cards Against Humanity at the lock-in, and…you know, I’m trying to read Game of Thrones in peace, and every time someone would get a card referencing Hitler or Auschwitz or genocide, they’d give a little cheer and tell me they’d found the card I would’ve played.
And why am I chronicling all this dumb and increasingly uncomfortable stuff? Because I am super determined to not let it get to me.
See, upon my review of the last 27 years of my life, I’ve determined that I let stuff upset me WAY too easily…the whole nonsense about whether I was gay, or whether I was into something demonic, or whether I didn’t have a full range of emotions…those things made me unreasonably anxious…I’m determined to not be that way this time. Because yeah, I see where it came from, but…I’m determined to let it just ride its course this time and not get upset. Because it is upsetting, in proper historical context–don’t misunderstand my posts…I think it’s incredibly upsetting, which is probably where the problem lies in the first place. Because I find upsetting things incredibly fascinating. But what happens when I let on to others about things I’ve been turning over again and again in my mind? They turn into a string of jokes because nobody knows how to react to me and I don’t know what to do with that information other than either get defensive or play along. I’d rather not get defensive with this though because that ends badly…
So, yeah. Goals. I’m not getting upset about what anyone else makes out of it in regard to me. I refuse. Jokes it is. Because what else can one do?