My other favorite is:
Life is like playing a violin solo in public and learning the instrument as one goes on.
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Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Sad day
I woke up from a horrible dream this morning. It was as awful as usual, but this time it was Ant who was letting things slip about the tramps and not trying very hard to keep it secret or stop laughing. Of course, I don’t think he is laughing in real life. It was pretty bad in the dream, though. I was trying to talk seriously to Chris and also trying to throw cans of cat food at his head. I kept telling him that he needed to stand still because he really deserved it. I finally got him- hit him square in the head so hard it split either the can or his head open- I’m not really sure which.
I stayed in bed trying to listen to Book Radio for an hour, trying to separate myself from the dream. I felt so down that I just could not get up. When I finally did, I sat back down and could not go. I was not sick, but I was not well, and I had trouble justifying going to work and not going to work. I had to go, but I could not go. I was just in no state to talk to people, and that does not sound nearly as bad as it felt. I went to eat breakfast and sat down at my puzzle table. I decided that I needed to stay put for a bit and texted my boss. I worked on my puzzle and after a while, I noticed that my mood had greatly improved. I was not drowning in miserable thoughts anymore. I felt normal again- even ready for a day full of phone calls. I went to work.
I walked in and nobody was at their desk. I went to check in with my boss and she wasn’t there. The operator called me over and told me everyone was in a meeting- which never happens when the phones are on. She told me something that I didn’t understand. She told me again. A coworker has killed herself.
I walk into the meeting and the two suicide prevention social workers are at the front of the room. We just saw one of them last week during our training on suicide calls. We were supposed to have another session after the phones stopped today. John asks me if I know what happened. My boss comes over and walks me out to tell me herself. It took her words- the third or fourth time I heard what happened- before I understood. I returned to the meeting. Everyone was just rocked. The social workers invited us to stay and talk or come back as necessary. I sat at my desk for at least five minutes, unable to answer the phone. I went back in and joined a small group and we talked for a while. Some other coworkers came back in and sat down. One said he was having a lot of trouble answering the phone and summoning empathy for people who were upset that their meds hadn’t arrived yet. He went home for the day.
From the call volume, it seems that the clinics we usually answer for are trying to take some pressure off the call center today. There are a couple schedulers here from the main hospital to help answer the phones. John and my boss bought lunch.
A combination of HR and perhaps family members came to collect her things.
This is the person who came to me in the aftermath of Chris’s destruction- the woman whose husband had died suddenly the year before. She gave me hugs and an open invitation for hugs anytime. She told me some of her story and said that the only advice she had for me was to cry. That has actually been the most solid, concrete, helpful-in-the-moment advice that I have received through this mess. I’m so glad that I told her that. While many of us knew she was hurting pretty bad, she always had a smile. Through our reeling discussions today, we found that she had told us all different pieces last week that we were only able to fit together today. Not that we have that many pieces to put together.
Monday, April 8, 2013
Let's just try that movie again tomorrow.
I'm currently watching Stanley Kubrick's masterpiece, 2001: A Space Odyssey, also known as What the Hell Am I Watching?
I came home today to find a notice on my door. I have had to train myself not to think the worst when this happens, because it's never bad news anymore. No "loud bass" or "you ran over the sprinkler head," not even an illegal cat. So far, all the notices have been window replacement related or free basketball tickets, and I got comfortable with the idea that I am not poised on the edge of trouble anymore.
But this notice was stapled shut.
Ah, the inevitable noise complaint. You know I like to sing, but I have not been playing anything very loud. Besides, it's never after hours. This notice was addressed to the whole building, so it's not even necessarily me. Furthermore, the complaint is "excessive noise." How unspecific can you get?
First of all, goddammit, these are apartments, not libraries or museums. Why do people expect silence? People LIVE here, which is why I don't ever complain about them. They listen to music, they slam doors, the have visitors. I don't understand what the problem is. I don't envy people who live on the bottom floor, but I have had people live above me too, and you can hear footsteps, and sometimes it sounds like a herd of elephants. And?
Second, who the hell is complaining about noise without even identifying which apartment it's coming from? What are we supposed to do with this notice? File it under: Well, Clearly This Doesn't Apply To Me. Who makes a complaint about an entire building? I don't know if I need to turn my movies down or if somebody is blasting their music while everyone's at work. I haven't sang at home in a while, or I'd suspect it's me.
This is the quietest apartment building I have ever lived in. After they replace the windows and doors, it's going to be unbelievably silent. As it is, the front door is the only direction I can hear anybody else in. When I'm at my door, I can hear damn near what everybody is doing, but not once I go in my apartment.
When I moved in, the guy downstairs introduced himself and invited me to let him know if his music ever bothered me. Exactly. Knock on the frigging door if it's really something you can't ignore, but nobody's doing this at 3am, so what the hell is your problem?
Then again, if in six months, this is the worst complaint I have about this place, I guess I'm doing okay. See, this is why I need my blog. I am such a whiny asshole until I can come here and put it all together. I think I know how I feel until I get it written down and omigod THERE'S all the understanding and forgiveness and empathy and optimism that I was starting to think I just didn't have. I don't feel like deep down I am really an ungrateful, complaining asshole, but that's what I present- a lot. I love that Joe Walsh song for a lot of reasons, but mainly the line
I can't complain, but sometimes I still do
I would love to get to sometimes.
I got a lot more calls today. It was really busy. I tried to calm myself and answer the phone. People who call are generally neutral or suffering some horrible ailment or watching their loved one suffer. You have to summon empathy quickly and equally while doing a monotonous, repetitive job, and repeat that eighty times. Many people are friendly and so grateful for the help, but of course it's those few turdy ones that stick out, and doubtless they have good reason to be turdy. Many of those people would not be turdy if it wasn't for a convoluted system. Very often, you're trying hard to help them and they think you're trying to make it more difficult. Sigh. But this is the tradeoff, right? Here's a solid, reliable job with steady pay, benefits, and holidays. Lots of people don't have that. So in order to keep myself sane, I must continue to learn, and that means a different job. I am going to have to do what's hard for me, and that's keep my resume updated, have those KSAs written and wrangleable, and put myself out there like the Little Prince with his net, waiting to catch a ride on the next comet.
I came home today to find a notice on my door. I have had to train myself not to think the worst when this happens, because it's never bad news anymore. No "loud bass" or "you ran over the sprinkler head," not even an illegal cat. So far, all the notices have been window replacement related or free basketball tickets, and I got comfortable with the idea that I am not poised on the edge of trouble anymore.
But this notice was stapled shut.
Ah, the inevitable noise complaint. You know I like to sing, but I have not been playing anything very loud. Besides, it's never after hours. This notice was addressed to the whole building, so it's not even necessarily me. Furthermore, the complaint is "excessive noise." How unspecific can you get?
First of all, goddammit, these are apartments, not libraries or museums. Why do people expect silence? People LIVE here, which is why I don't ever complain about them. They listen to music, they slam doors, the have visitors. I don't understand what the problem is. I don't envy people who live on the bottom floor, but I have had people live above me too, and you can hear footsteps, and sometimes it sounds like a herd of elephants. And?
Second, who the hell is complaining about noise without even identifying which apartment it's coming from? What are we supposed to do with this notice? File it under: Well, Clearly This Doesn't Apply To Me. Who makes a complaint about an entire building? I don't know if I need to turn my movies down or if somebody is blasting their music while everyone's at work. I haven't sang at home in a while, or I'd suspect it's me.
This is the quietest apartment building I have ever lived in. After they replace the windows and doors, it's going to be unbelievably silent. As it is, the front door is the only direction I can hear anybody else in. When I'm at my door, I can hear damn near what everybody is doing, but not once I go in my apartment.
When I moved in, the guy downstairs introduced himself and invited me to let him know if his music ever bothered me. Exactly. Knock on the frigging door if it's really something you can't ignore, but nobody's doing this at 3am, so what the hell is your problem?
Then again, if in six months, this is the worst complaint I have about this place, I guess I'm doing okay. See, this is why I need my blog. I am such a whiny asshole until I can come here and put it all together. I think I know how I feel until I get it written down and omigod THERE'S all the understanding and forgiveness and empathy and optimism that I was starting to think I just didn't have. I don't feel like deep down I am really an ungrateful, complaining asshole, but that's what I present- a lot. I love that Joe Walsh song for a lot of reasons, but mainly the line
I can't complain, but sometimes I still do
I would love to get to sometimes.
I got a lot more calls today. It was really busy. I tried to calm myself and answer the phone. People who call are generally neutral or suffering some horrible ailment or watching their loved one suffer. You have to summon empathy quickly and equally while doing a monotonous, repetitive job, and repeat that eighty times. Many people are friendly and so grateful for the help, but of course it's those few turdy ones that stick out, and doubtless they have good reason to be turdy. Many of those people would not be turdy if it wasn't for a convoluted system. Very often, you're trying hard to help them and they think you're trying to make it more difficult. Sigh. But this is the tradeoff, right? Here's a solid, reliable job with steady pay, benefits, and holidays. Lots of people don't have that. So in order to keep myself sane, I must continue to learn, and that means a different job. I am going to have to do what's hard for me, and that's keep my resume updated, have those KSAs written and wrangleable, and put myself out there like the Little Prince with his net, waiting to catch a ride on the next comet.
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Puzzles
I haven't seen my neighbor in a while. I keep seeing the woman he lives with, and her daughter- I always had the impression that it was her daughter, not his. I have a lot of neighbors that I rarely see, but I always see the dog owners, so it was weird not to see his dog. Today there was a U-Haul outside and I was disappointed to see things being carried out from his place. Later on, I saw him and asked if he was moving. "I am, yeah," he said a little bitterly. "Already did." This neighbor has always been so friendly and happy- it was sad to see him upset.
I think about his relationship ending as I work my King Kong puzzle. I finished all the identifiable pieces, got through the solid white, and all that's left is the solid black. This is the second hardest part- the hardest being after you have exhausted the border and any obvious sections and are left feeling overwhelmed with no idea where to start next. But how do you do a puzzle? One piece at a time. Eventually, you find something to work on and even where you'll go next, and pick up the pace. Towards the end, though, it slows again for those unhelpful pieces and you keep trying to fit the wrong piece in. Even when you've already tried it and you know it doesn't fit, you think it should and the puzzle just doesn't know it's supposed to go there. Hopefully sooner than later, you stop trying to make it fit and go work on something else.
Goodbye, nice neighbor with your lovely, happy dog. Good luck with your puzzle.
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