I’ve been at my job now for a year.
I talk about work sometimes (everyone who reads my journal probably knows about the stinky-fish smells), but I don’t mention the name of the company. That’s for a good reason– I like to keep my work rants separate from the company I work for. After all, my job really is terrific most of the time; it’s just the bad stuff you guys get to hear about, and the bad stuff is pretty ordinary work-stuff.
Here is my first entry from after I started working here. What a busy little bee!
Anyway, happy work-anniversary to me! I get a mug at the end of this month! Whee!
I mentioned in comments to this post that I’ve had two nearly-identical dreams that had me wake up crying.
The first one was when I was about 10 years old (yes, I remember dreams from when I was 10). My sister and I were staying at my grandparents’ house for the night, which we did on occassion. I don’t remember the details of the dream, but I remember that I dreamed my sister cut my head open with a knife, trying to kill me. I even remember which knife– it was this kind of black knife that my grandparents had in the kitchen. The dream was so real, I woke up and had to feel my scalp to make sure I wasn’t bleeding.
The second time, I was about 18, and staying at my aunt and uncles’ house in Berkeley. I dreamed that my sister tried to strangle me to death. I woke up with the blankets tangled around my face, coughing because I hadn’t been breathing.
These are the only two dreams I’ve had where my real-life sister actually tries to kill me, and they’re the only dreams I’ve had that made me cry.
And yes, she’s probably going to sit there and be totally flabbergasted when she reads this, but I hope she knows that the anxiety that causes those dreams obviously hits at something incredibly deep and important to me (my sis), and that those nightmares are no more real than when I dream about bogeymen or angels.
Oh, yeah– and I don’t feel so great today. Is it time to go home yet?