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Living in a dream

These past few days have been very shocky for me. It's not typical that I have experiences that I can't or won't write about in LiveJournal, and it's also not typical for me to have so much busy-time at work so that I can't even breathe between calls to write. (I complained about the dialer to the Quiet Geek Super yesterday; his response, "It wasn't all that bad, Joan." Oh, yes it was!)

Sunday evening was too confusing and precious to put into coherent public words, so I won't even try just now, beyond what I already have written down.

Monday, I monitored. That was fun.

Tuesday, I was a wallflower, and hung with Figment in the break room before we got called in for our shift. We discussed current events. I have upgraded Figment in my personal estimation to "colleague in things often not spoken of," as per recommendation and earlier conversation with him. (othercat, I know there's been a lot of cryptic-ness. It's a bunch of weird freaky witchy shit, and only a big deal to those immediately involved, namely, me.) He tried something weird in line, which had the net effect of damping down my hyperactivity and briefly annoying Darkside's undermind. I also learned how to duplicate it for myself, or near enough, which should prove an interesting tool in the future.

They put me on the recruitment for the panel survey that I do, which means that the survey's twice the length of the panel, you talk to more people, though for less of the time, and you get a lot of people hanging up on you, a lot of people not wanting to talk, and a lot of people not in the demographic group you're looking for.

Usually, there is at least a second between calls, a second or five to catch your breath or sip some water to soothe your poor abused throat. This time, the calls were coming in so fast there wasn't even the whole beep between calls, if that. When I got two calls at the same time, I collared the Quiet Geek Super and told him, glaring. I was barely able to log out to go to the bathroom; I had to try multiple times before it worked. This reflected on my monitor report; my voice was growing less and less happy each time I failed to log out.

There ought to be a law that calls on an automatic dialer cannot be routed to phone center workers without sufficient time between calls to log out of the system properly (rather than by mashing the phone to turn it off).

Today, I lazed about the house until late afternoon, then headed out on the bus to the Burton Barr central library. I was able to find the book I was looking for with no trouble; finding the ladies' room was more trouble.

By the time I got home, I had the shakes and general dizziness, because I'd been hungry when I set out, and three hours and a decent amount of walking did nothing to improve this. I need to start keeping random power boost items in my purse, other than the espresso beans, because those would have made me crash harder.
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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