speaking of nostalgia
Jun. 20th, 2015 02:45 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
avawatsonWherein I stress ramble endlessly. I don't care the info here is public or that you read it, but it is cut because there's just an obnoxious number of words and it starts falling apart like I've forgotten how to string them together. Sigh. My brain's swiss cheesed. You'll see.
As I mentioned before, my phone drank too much Diet Dr. Pepper on Wednesday evening, and my $200 deductible "next day" replacement is en route -- for arrival on Monday. Sigh. Anyway, I've been positively itching like a meth fiend for something...mobile. Twitter, texts, email, snapchat, fic. I'm an addict, I guess I can admit it now. I complained on twitter earlier about feeling lost without a food delivery app or phone to call for food, and I confused an Italian follower of mine because I sounded like I lived on another planet.
Well, I mean. I do. Planet Caroline. I'm positively dysfunctional without something within reach. Been grabbing my clunky work laptop like a phone, just to check the time. (I am near-sighted, so looking at the clock on the far side of the bed is not working. Even with my glasses on, it's not great. Maybe I need another eye check-up.)
Doesn't help, maybe, that I've been sleeping about 4 hours a day all week. I wake up panicked about what time it is, whether I've overslept or gotten enough sleep. (Spoiler alert: the answer is I never get enough sleep.) I spend my waking hours just trying to do triage for the day. Social appointments are much more of a thing I need to do to not piss off friends (and primarily my husband) than what I actually want to do. Not that I think much about what I want to do. This string of obligations and half-hearted social interactions will probably change within a couple weeks or so, but I can't manage to think past the next couple days to really check.
So anyway. The needing a thing in my hand. I dug up an old iPod touch I had. And I mean...this baby is 8GB and has been off for I don't know how many years. The last notes I kept on it are from 2008-2010. It has music from I don't know how many hard drives ago on it. I'm literally listening to Glee soundtrack and Full Metal Panic OST. You'd think it wouldn't be such a time capsule from just a few years ago but...somehow, it is? The emotions built into this playlist are just oddly transporting. I was listening to an Everclear song on the train into work tonight (Everclear) and remembered that my father was alive when I last listened to music on this iPod.
Strange, whenever he pops into my thoughts.
I also had the sudden thought that way back when I first had this iPod, I didn't even know my husband. Note: this is not true. In fact, I'd already moved in with him by then. I met him way back in 2004, while I was still in college. God, I don't understand time.
That's a running theme throughout my life, to be honest. I've been chronically late for as long as I can remember. As in, when I was a child, when I was in theory small enough to be thrown into a car, picked up out of bed. I wasn't, and I was late. I was late to school, late getting out of bed, late getting into bed, late getting into the shower and out of the shower. I've been this way my whole life, and I'm thirty fucking two years old and have had problems holding down jobs because of this. I mean, hell, I've only held down a full time job for longer than 6 months officially...now? This month?? I'm thirty two. If I have held down a job for longer than this, it wasn't by that much. Couple months, maybe.
And do you know what that means? It means I've been doing podcast duties for longer than I've done anything in my life. Even college and law school -- that came in academic/semester cycles. That's. That's something, isn't it?
This month, I'm producing the episode. And with the phone thing being an issue and everything, I'm feeling pretty strongly that my brain has swiss cheesed irreparably. It never worked great on a linear scale, but it's perhaps gotten worse. I've dealt with stress increasingly like a baby who hasn't learned object permanence. Deal with what's in front of me, put in a lot of effort to remember what's not in front of me.
Speaking of which, I brought my laptop to work again tonight. My hope is to bang out a segment and a half's worth of editing. Friday night-Saturday morning shifts are typically really dead, after all. In a couple songs, I will.
As I mentioned before, my phone drank too much Diet Dr. Pepper on Wednesday evening, and my $200 deductible "next day" replacement is en route -- for arrival on Monday. Sigh. Anyway, I've been positively itching like a meth fiend for something...mobile. Twitter, texts, email, snapchat, fic. I'm an addict, I guess I can admit it now. I complained on twitter earlier about feeling lost without a food delivery app or phone to call for food, and I confused an Italian follower of mine because I sounded like I lived on another planet.
Well, I mean. I do. Planet Caroline. I'm positively dysfunctional without something within reach. Been grabbing my clunky work laptop like a phone, just to check the time. (I am near-sighted, so looking at the clock on the far side of the bed is not working. Even with my glasses on, it's not great. Maybe I need another eye check-up.)
Doesn't help, maybe, that I've been sleeping about 4 hours a day all week. I wake up panicked about what time it is, whether I've overslept or gotten enough sleep. (Spoiler alert: the answer is I never get enough sleep.) I spend my waking hours just trying to do triage for the day. Social appointments are much more of a thing I need to do to not piss off friends (and primarily my husband) than what I actually want to do. Not that I think much about what I want to do. This string of obligations and half-hearted social interactions will probably change within a couple weeks or so, but I can't manage to think past the next couple days to really check.
So anyway. The needing a thing in my hand. I dug up an old iPod touch I had. And I mean...this baby is 8GB and has been off for I don't know how many years. The last notes I kept on it are from 2008-2010. It has music from I don't know how many hard drives ago on it. I'm literally listening to Glee soundtrack and Full Metal Panic OST. You'd think it wouldn't be such a time capsule from just a few years ago but...somehow, it is? The emotions built into this playlist are just oddly transporting. I was listening to an Everclear song on the train into work tonight (Everclear) and remembered that my father was alive when I last listened to music on this iPod.
Strange, whenever he pops into my thoughts.
I also had the sudden thought that way back when I first had this iPod, I didn't even know my husband. Note: this is not true. In fact, I'd already moved in with him by then. I met him way back in 2004, while I was still in college. God, I don't understand time.
That's a running theme throughout my life, to be honest. I've been chronically late for as long as I can remember. As in, when I was a child, when I was in theory small enough to be thrown into a car, picked up out of bed. I wasn't, and I was late. I was late to school, late getting out of bed, late getting into bed, late getting into the shower and out of the shower. I've been this way my whole life, and I'm thirty fucking two years old and have had problems holding down jobs because of this. I mean, hell, I've only held down a full time job for longer than 6 months officially...now? This month?? I'm thirty two. If I have held down a job for longer than this, it wasn't by that much. Couple months, maybe.
And do you know what that means? It means I've been doing podcast duties for longer than I've done anything in my life. Even college and law school -- that came in academic/semester cycles. That's. That's something, isn't it?
This month, I'm producing the episode. And with the phone thing being an issue and everything, I'm feeling pretty strongly that my brain has swiss cheesed irreparably. It never worked great on a linear scale, but it's perhaps gotten worse. I've dealt with stress increasingly like a baby who hasn't learned object permanence. Deal with what's in front of me, put in a lot of effort to remember what's not in front of me.
Speaking of which, I brought my laptop to work again tonight. My hope is to bang out a segment and a half's worth of editing. Friday night-Saturday morning shifts are typically really dead, after all. In a couple songs, I will.