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May 10, 2005
wok wok
+2
Today was a critical day for me at work (i.e. day job: the “real” work or the not “real” work?). Main things were to get three estimates, project plans, and SOWs done (one just revised) and come up with a consolidated status report format for a client with multiple concurrent projects and then populate the template with current data and send it off, and get those big, due-today tasks done between a comp review with another client and an internal IA review for yet another, and then all the little emails, phone calls, questions, answers, scheduling and so forth. Near herculean on my best, most prepared, energetic, and sharp day.
But today was the opposite of that. It was the beginning of my fifth day without sleep (which I am determined will not complete—I’m at about 4 days and 15 hours at the moment). Shortly after getting in, CD at the kitty korner kubicle gets my attention for a 3 second anecdote. I’m focused on him and without even being conscious of it, I narcolepsy off and back again, thinking I’d been with him and hearing everything (or, having no known reason not to believe that had I thought about it, but wondering if I’ve just dozed off is not something I typically do during conversations), but C says, “You just fell asleep while I was talking to you, didn’t you?” and I immediately realized I had. I felt rude. That completely beyond the realm of my control kind of nodding off would occur throughout the day.
I took the large format color printouts that a client had made of every single page of their commerce site, and took them to the conference table to look at them spread out—or, really, to escape the eyes of everybody while I got into the groove (something, you will see, I could never quite pull of). Off our little informal product packaging display on the book shelves, I pulled a 20-count blister pack of our client’s “extreme energy mints.” I think I mentioned abusing them yesterday. Remember, each mint equals about a cup of coffee. I ate every one of those mints, often chewing them or vigorously sucking two or three at a time until they were gone—the whole pack—in, what, an hour? as I stared at those marked for revisions pages to cost it, and not comprehending any of it, fighting off sleep the whole time. Fucking 20 cups of coffee worth of caffiene did almost nothing, unless that’s where the headache today came from. Also in the pain category: a couple of my toes are rubbed so raw that it’s pretty painful to walk.
My extremeties are all tore up, both hands and feet shedding shreds of skin. Hands with eczema, feet of an athelete—two things I’m prone to and victim of anyway, but sure exacerbated by the Cr: the hands for general lack of defense and hydration and nutrition and rest. Feet because way socks and shoes stay on all night, feet sweat extra, place stanks up, don’t have time and energy to care for/treat immediately, hell for hygiene and grooming in general up to my usual standards. Even the laundry doesn’t get done enough. So what might have been minor gets major ragin’. And then yesterday when I slept past my stop a few stops, I walked for a decent bit for before ducking into a livery. And yesterday I wore those super thick cotton sports socks in these already narrow Pumas—my pies were pinched. Today, painful.
I tried so hard—my very damnedest—to work today. I had to. But even without the crucial deadlines, I needed the diversion. But I couldn’t actually do it—proof that one of the US’s favorite notions—that if one just wants it bad enough it will happen—is not entirely true (if at all). I tried all day and was only successful in attending emails, sending a couple emails, have a couple calls. Nada mas.
After, I met Uncle D & Aunt K for BBQ in Times Square. I really like those two. They’re my age by the way (remarriage, after G-ma’s premature death by bathtub drowning). Lots of fun. Funny, I don’t even carry my smokes with me today so tha I don’t smell when I see them. I’m closeted about even those vices with my family. So, imagine how as soon as I leave them I beeline for CW to cop two dimes and in process having a phone number given to me by one of the corner boys, and another one walking in and teasing the other about fucking with HIS homie (i.e. me). Funny. Already out except for the rez of the glass roach. Went lite tonight. I need some fucking sleep. But I’ve already debated it out in my head a few times. Wanted to call for two more. etc. It’s irrational and hard, motherfucker.
Posted by peligrito at May 10, 2005 9:54 PM
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