The World That's Coming

It finally happened; I just outright missed a day here. I realized late at night, and had this moment of Maybe I should write something now that was quickly replaced by It’s 11 o’clock at night and you’re nowhere near a computer, let it go. It had to happen, especially considering the nature of this week, which has seen my early mornings filled with stuff: dentist appointments, preparations for visiting folk, watching things on the Internet under an NDA that are time-sensitive, writing about Spider-Man movies, and so on. All of which is to say, this week has been a surprisingly rough one, when it comes to starting the day off right.

That might explain the fact that, this morning, I woke up thinking Is it Saturday? Please let it be Saturday? with no small level of desperation. Each week this year has increasingly felt that way, getting to a point where it feels more exhausting to just get to Friday in one piece. I’m waiting for the turnaround.

postcardsfromspace:

I worry about floating staircases collapsing.

It’s like both of these are written by my subconsciousness. I also worry that, whenever I’m standing somewhere high level, a gust of wind will come out of nowhere and carry me out into the sky before I plummet to my doom.

A late post, today, because this morning was taken up by a surprisingly early visit to the dentist, and the strange fear/surrender to inevitability that such a trip entails. Am I the only one who goes through that? The feeling of this thing is going to happen and I don’t want it to, so I’ll pretend to ignore it even though it is dominating all my thoughts that turns into this thing is really about to happen, I can do nothing about it but give in and the weird sense of calm that results from that change?

I found myself, as the chair reclined and I was asked whether I’d want dark glasses to shield me from the light on the technician’s head — note: I should have said yes, and will know better in future — realizing that I am rarely as calm as I felt at that very moment. There was this sense of “I can’t change anything now, I have to just lie here and let fate and oral hygenists take their toll” that was surprisingly freeing; a moment of zen that I really should try and push through to the rest of my life to lessen my stress and anxiety in all other aspects of my life.

Of course, I should have realized that as soon as I left the office, I’d have to respond to a number of emails about work matters and immediately feel as if I was behind the times and somehow in trouble from some unseen, unknowable boss.

On the plus side, my teeth are clean. See?

We’ve adopted a manta in this house that goes a little something like “Wouldn’t it be great if the weekend was just one day longer?”

It’s not that I’m not grateful for the two days off — or, at least, the two days not spent in front of a computer, working, which is what’s more realistically the case (There is, after all, always an opportunity to catch up on laundry/dishes/housecleaning/various projects around the house that nag away at the back of your head) — but that I somehow only feel recovered from the previous week somewhere around Sunday afternoon, making the Monday morning that follows feel particularly cruel.

Right now, there’s a sense of denial about it, to be honest; a feeling that I can just pretend that the deadlines that hang over my head already don’t exist and somehow everything will end up okay. Here’s to another week of pretending that work isn’t as bad as it seems, my friends.