Sunday, 1 June 2014

Week Twenty-Five: Disconnected

Opening salvo. Lack of connection makes for interesting reading. Makes me remember all the times I wished I could just unplug (really chose the wrong job for that). And all the times when I did. It for some reason makes others think something is truly wrong. But those others simply do not understand the joy that comes from silence and solitude. All that said, I'd really like my interweb access back. Largely because I'm supposed to be paying for it.

Day 1 (169): 26th of May
Last day in Rome. My gallivanting over the past few days has left me in a state of spinal unrest, so my plans to add to said gallivanting became "take the metro to the Spanish Steps and set a spell." Turns out that people watching is just as fun anywhere one does it. Such a nice part of the city, the Spagna area. One can shop at high street places (or just look at high street things), eat really good nosh (or just gelato - I'm a grownup, I eat what I want for lunch), and enjoy a lovely day (with only the occasional molestation by rose-selling persons). I opted for the second and third options this go round. And saw this.

And this.

And the streets of Rome.

Day 2 (170): 27th of May
Still no internet. Still annoyed. Thank you, Neapolitans With Information. Way to play the "I've a secret" game. So much fun. Though disconnection is oddly freeing in a way, it is also not so oddly irritating. Yes, I've read a couple books more than I might otherwise have done. Yes, I've relaxed in my hammock and enjoyed the out of doors air. But I'd also have done that anyhow. What I've not done is call home. Or emailed people I needed to email. Or sent information I only have on my laptop to people I've told I'd send said information (sorry, people). This has to get done with in the lunch pause in the office or at the end of the week, when I've had time to make the trip to a base with WiFi available.

Day 3 (171): 28th of May
Alone with her thoughts, the brilliant writer/photographer began to ponder and recall many a quote once heard and stored away in the vault of the unconscious. Deep stuff, no? For example: "Cheat your landlord if you can and must, but do not try to shortchange the Muse. It cannot be done. You can't fake quality any more than you can fake a good meal" (William S. Burroughs)

"The road to hell is paved with adverbs" (Stephen King)

"Writing is something you do alone. It is a profession for introverts who want to tell you a story, but don't want to make eye contact while doing it" (John Green)

Day 4 (172): 29th of May
Being alone is bloomin' brilliant. It allows one to not just ponder quotes (won't do that again, at least not one this), but also to refuel and recenter. No one asking questions. No one wondering what one is thinking. No one getting upset about being distant. It isn't distance if it is helpful. So quiet.

Thank you, sky.

Day 5 (173): 30th of May
The best part of my job is that I get to do things in the best way I know how. Usually. Unless I get sucked in by forces beyond my control. But that rarely happens. At least not enough to hinder my job doing. It is so nice to hear from people who enter my space and remark upon how nice it is and how it must be nice to work in that particular spot. If I accomplish nothing else in this tour, I want to be able to say my little sanctuary was a success, and that we got everything done that was asked of us (and more). So far, so good. Life is too short to work in a morale black hole. It may at times mean we are not linked directly to the rest of the department, but that is why phones were invented. And come to think of it, so were legs. Let us check in with the fearless trooper. Damn that camouflage...

Oh lord.

Zoinks. Everyone is having a day.

Day 6 (174): 31st of May
Spent the entire day with no sense of time. How brilliant is that. Woke when I wanted. Cleaned house till it hurt. Did laundry. Watched old episodes of Lois and Clark. Finally looked at a clock when I realised I needed to go in search of internet. It was 1800. This is how I felt.

This is how the sky felt.

And This.

Day 7 (175): 1st of June
Yesterday some little self-important teenager jumped in front of me in line to get to a plug at the place with internet. And people wonder why I never want any of them (small people, that is). I was pretty lame when I was a teenager, but nowhere near as lame as the ones from the now times are. Entitled little oxygen thieves who are statistically weaker than teenagers from any other time period. I think that includes the Bubonic Plague days. Today's kids are either too fat or too thin to be of any consequence. Useless in a Zombpocalypse, but I suppose that just means they will be the first to go and are hardly going to be a threat as zombies. They'll be too busy being Emo or Hipster or Whiny. Even as the undead.

Enough Said. Lots to be Done.
P.S. "Never love anyone who treats you like you're ordinary" (Oscar Wilde)

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