Thursday, March 25, 2010

Help! I'm dreaming scary stuff and can't get out!

Have you ever watched that movie "28 Days Later"... well if you haven't, I won't spoil it, but I haven't been able to ever finish that movie from start to end because I'm too chicken shit to find out how it ends. The movie gets to this one point and then I get thinking about- "What if this ever happened in real life? Would I have what it takes to survive? Would I be able to remove myself from the mindset of maternal love to survival mode? And where exactly would I go?" Once these things get into my head, I have a hard time getting rid of them and re-assuring myself that nothing like what happens in that movie, would or could ever, actually happen in real life, and even if a similar situation ever presented itself, I would have to rely on my faith in the Canadian Government to step in to protect citizens like myself. There would be safety measures in place, right?

I have always dreamt quite vivdly. From a very early age, I could easily recount what I dreamt about, who was in it, what we did, where we went, etc. And it must be a genetic thing, as my daughter now also dreams like this. When the dreams are good things that I actually want to dream about, hey, great! I love having this ability. But when they aren't so great, and I can't seem to figure out how to wake myself up, ugggnhhh... This ability can be quite resented.

So last night I dreamt that a very similar situation to that of in the movie "28 Days Later" happened. I was in a high rise apartment, up on one of the higher floors, looking out of a sliding glass patio door to a devastated city below. A deserted, and heavily looted city, still smoking from some of the fires that had burned in the days or weeks beforehand. Cars were piled and over turned in the streets, garbage and paper was strewn all about and there were dead bodies lying everywhere. It was dusk, so the sun was setting and I was starting to feel the anxiousness the night brought.

I wasn't alone in this apartment, one of my co-workers, Erin was there, and another girl whom I do not know. I guess between the three fo us, we had some kind of nightly watch system in place, so Erin & I were getting ready to take our post for the night. In this apartment there were two balconys- each faced opposite ends of the apartment. One faced a scenic oceanfront while the other faced the ruins of the city. Erin & I decided that we would sit out on the "ghetto" balcony for a while to watch for anything that moved, or any sign of life, or rescue. Anything.

The logical thinking part of me asked where my husband and daughter were? Then the sad realiziation sunk in that they must not have made it. They must have not survived otherwise they would be right here with me. It was just me. Me, and Erin and this girl I had no idea who she was. And I would never see my daughter's beautiful face again or hear her devilish laugh. Or feel my husband's warm soft hands rubbing my back re-assuringly, as he always does.

All of a sudden a helicoptor was heard in the distance and then appeared. It was dropping what looked like troops into the middle of the city. Then we saw ambulances and police cars racing out to them, with lights and sirens. Erin & I were screaming at them from our balcony -"HEY!!! Over here!!! We're alive!!!!" We just kept screaming and the burning in my throat became unbearable, until nothing could no longer come out.

We had been spotted and heard. A flood light was put up to us in our building, and we were waving frantically. Erin & I woke up the strange girl, and headed out of this apartment we hadn't left in who knows how long. We must have booby trapped this place to the hiltz, as there were so many obstacles to over come to get down the stairs to that bottom floor. We made it down to a fire exit out the side of the ground floor of the building. The people we called to were in sight, maybe a few blocks away. I yelled - "Hey! Over here! There are 3 of us! We are the only survivors left around, we think." There came no sound from these 'rescue workers' as they approached us. Just nodding, with their heads down. Then one looked up, its eyes all red and hissed... then the rest of the army that was with this infected person looked up- all of their eyes were red and they all starting hissing and running towards us girls.
Quickly I grabbed Erin and the other girl and headed back into the apartment building. "They're infected!!! We have to get out of here!!" the girl kept screaming. Trying to scamper back up to our apartment amongst the piles of shopping carts, broken glass piles, furniture, debris and mattresses, we could hear the people banging on the door until finally there was a horrible screeching sound, like a tin can being peeled back.

"Oh God! They're in!" I kept thinking... "What are we going to do once they climb over all this shit like we are. We are going to be trapped rats..."

At this point, I managed to finally wake myself up. FINALLY! I was covered in a cold sweat, and panting. I groggily looked around my room, and realized I'm okay, I'm in my bedroom, safely in my house. My husband was snoring beside me, it was just a really REALLY bad dream. I look at my alarm clock- 2:40am. Everything is okay.

The only problem now is getting your mind to wind down, after dreaming about something like that. Then the incessant questions start- "I wonder if I did survive? Did we ever get rescued, or did we become one of those things too? Wouldn't it just be easier to just give up and become one of those things already? 4:41 am rolls around, and I'm still trying to get my mind to go numb. Think about Joshua Jackson. Naked. Think of shoe shopping with a platnium card. Work. Anything! Just go back to sleep already!

Friday, February 26, 2010

Moving a mound sometimes just digs a pit

We all have those times when we have an "a-ha!" moment or come to some kind of realization that we feel the need to share with everyone, and, even though our intention is good, the outcome usually is not. Unfortunately that is most often the case for me.

I make a very conscious effort to pick my battles and honestly feel I do a pretty terrific job, but often I wonder where the issue stops being my problem and instead wonder what the heck is wrong with some people!

Being a fairly logical thinking person, I often look at obstacles with optimism. When I'm going to approach a problem, I much prefer to have a solution on hand. I try to be aware of my mood and body language so that I am tactfully approaching things in a non-confrontational manner. But at the same time, it is very difficult for a person who is as strong minded as I am to just shut up and take any kind of shit from someone, regardless of who they are.

Most days I feel that I definately am working in the wrong industry, and should have pursued a career in law or politics because of my "stick it to the man" personality.
When I don't get the end result I was looking for from a challenge, I have a rather creative knack for putting things into perspective, whether it be mine or someone else's, which in turn ends up getting a result I at least feel some satisfaction with.

Weeks ago I was put through a couple of challenges that both proved to not to be worth the time or effort of the fight, and instead created bigger problems. I had the little voice in my head (whom hardly gets a chance to say much to begin with ) telling me to let it go, and just back down. But the Army Drill Sargeant who runs the show in my decision making had a much louder, authorative voice. Woulda, coulda, shoulda, but didn't. None the less, the hole is dug, so I now must get out.

I don't do well with notes/ e-mails being left for me, to decipher what the problem is, the tone of the communication, and more so- back handed snarky remarks. I would much rather have someone approach me face to face and discuss what the issue is. But I also realize that this type of conflict resolution is what works for me, and not everyone else. Some people think face to face interaction equals confrontation which is not always the case. But some folks are very much afraid of the whole possibility of that kind of scenario, and will avoid it at all costs. When I reply to something like that, no matter how hard I try to sound respectful, it always comes out looking like I'm being a complete bitch. If I choose not to reply, it looks like I'm backing down, which I don't like either. And if I reply in person (my way of preference) then I am viewed as being aggressive, and the issue ends up escalating.

I think I'm going to hire a singing telegram for the next issue I have with someone. Who can get mad at someone mid song?

Monday, February 22, 2010

Popping the blog cherry. Preface

Years ago, when I was working for a major retail chain in customer service, the one part of every day I looked forward to was my 1/2 hour lunch break, where I would often head outside to the back of the store, where there was a garden area and picnic table, complete with umbrella. It wasn't much, but it was certainly a much needed change of scenery. It provided me with a chance to get away from the hectic stressful obstacles of the work day and cool down, vent, and just recharge myself so I could prepare myself for round 2 until I was done for the day.

I am severely allergic to bees, in fact I guess you could say I am deathly allergic. I have to carry an Epipen in case I should ever get stung. So when a nest of bees built quite an impressive hive about 5 feet away from my break area, I guess I should have realized even then God, or Karma or Destiny or whichever hands of fate were responsible for this hive of aggressive bees, had a very demented sense of humour. One that would become the very thread of my existence. I can appreciate a demented sense of humour.

So the bees moved in, and became incredibly territorial as most Africanized crossbred bees do, and every time I needed to "escape" from my work place, I often ended up becoming the ridiclue of my workplace as I ran screaming from the back of the store, moving my arms in all sorts of contorted movements, very similar to that of one having a grand maul seizure, as a few pissed off bees chased me away. I tried smoking them out, I even went to the trouble of hooking up a garden hose from the side of building, and brought that out with me to soak those bees if they started with me. Didn't work. Then I just thought- fuck it- and started bringing my lunch out with me. Can't beat 'em, join 'em. And I just learned to remain calm and still as one, then two, then four bees landed on my hand while I was eating or drinking, and just decided to let them have a bite too. Win-win situation.

Eventually those bees became cool with me being on their turf, and I regained a sense of calm from a place I hadn't ever thought I would. This blog is about me describing the satyrical, ironic and even humourous exploits of my everyday life.
I laugh at myself, often. I have to, otherwise I would end up stark raving mad and owning stock in pharmaceutical companies. So now you can laugh at me too. Enjoy.