January 15, 2002

These Legs Are Tired (Recovered from LiveJournal)

Today was one of those worthless days I've been reading about so much lately. I've been perusing the ink-filled pages of my old journals from my Freshman year of college for the last few evenings, and laughing at what a gimp I was. Just about every entry had something about how I was "falling in love with Kate again" or how it was "another worthless day." I never realized what an obsessive little twerp I was. I'm surprised Kate and I are still good friends.. though we did talk quite a bit more often four years ago than we do today. I need to give her a call, as our close personal friendship is something I miss more an more every day. Have we outgrown our need for one another?

Anyway, yeah, it was a worthless day. A full day of hell behind the silver countertops of the Circuit City customer service desk. It was just Angel and I manning the returns / complaints counter, from 10AM to 9:30PM. Open to close. What a tortuous schedule. Tomorrow will be much shorter, as I must work from 10-2 to avoid going overtime for the week. I almost went two straight days without a break today, as the management team tried to tempt us with promises of free pizza, but Angel and I decided no amount of free food is worth an hour sitting on the couch at home. We took our breaks anyway. I don't think I'd have survived without it.

My feet are throbbing. I strongly dislike my current occupation.

I've also been having sets of strange nightmares lately, with one recurring several times over the last few weeks. I've dreamt I'm aboard one of the doomed flights on September 11th, only it's in the eveningtime, not the morning. I look out the window, and realize that we're flying very low above a vast city, and I already know I'm doomed. Somewhere, somebody screams, and all hell breaks loose. I somehow manage to catch a glimpse of the World Trade Center (though it's in front of us), and as we impact I wake up with my heart racing. I think it's got something to do with a story I read in the paper in the weeks after the tragedy. A widow of one of the victims recalled her last moments speaking with her husband, who was calling from his cel phone on one flight. He told her "I see buildings... my god, this is New York.." and then was gone.

It's funny, whenever I die in my dreams it's extremely settling and peaceful. I once dreamt I'd died in a tornado, and when I woke up I was actually disappointed to discover I was alive. Death was that warm, that inviting, that... perfect. My nightmares are doing their best to erase any sort of fear I might have of those final minutes.

Tomorrow looks to be a more eventful day than today. I'm off to bed, it's time to rest these bones.

posted by drqshadow at 12:27 AM


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