Out of town?

We’re going out of town later, so clearly the CEO will not be coming into work today. The CEO has done some minimal work on her to-do list, but spent more time than normal beating herself up about nothing in particular and then apologizing for it. This is a fairly normal occurrence.

A friend of mine is dealing with some crazy jaw pain, which led me to tell her the story of one of the most vivid dreams I’d ever had, because it just says everything it needs to say about me. I rarely remember my dreams. Everyone hates a dream story, but here it is anyway.

I dreamt that I was part of the French Foreign Legion’s fledgling space program (not a thing). We were testing equipment for durability to go to Mars. I was scheduled for a space walk, and there was a part of our training that involved my giving a signal if the pressure in my head got to be too great. My colleagues inside the ship (and ground control) would bring me back into the ship and pressurize my suit, alleviate the conditions, take some notes, make some adjustments, and send me back out. This was a training exercise that had been gone over thousands of times. There was no way it could fail, because it was someone’s job to watch for the signal. I was ready to go, so out I went.

Everything was normal at first, like “yay space this is so cool these suits are so durable there’s no way we can fail on this Mars mission I can’t wait.” As time passes, the pressure in my head starts to build up. I ignore it at first, but it keeps getting worse. I start with the signal. No response. I give the signal again and again and again, but nobody is paying attention. My head will explode and I’m going to die if the pressure isn’t alleviated.

Now, at this point in the dream, my conscious mind pops in and says “GURL. You feel like your head’s going to explode because you’re clenching your teeth so hard that your jaw muscles are starting to give out. You have to open your mouth. Open your damn mouth. Now now now now.”

(I clench my jaw and grind my teeth pretty intensely while I sleep.)

Anyway, I don’t believe my conscious mind and keep frantically signaling until I realize nobody’s going to help me, and I should try to open my mouth because I’m running out of air. It takes several tries, but I finally get my mouth open, and in my dream, oxygen rushes my helmet and I can take a breath. Once I do, whoever was supposed to be paying attention in the ship finally looks up and sees me totally distressed, apologizes, and they bring me back to the ship so I can calm down.

There’s not a lot to unpack here that isn’t already pretty clearly out there. This is what my anxiety and depression feel like most of the time.

I was pissed at myself when I woke up because the French Foreign Legion (with a distinct history of preserving colonialism) is not at all in line with my generally pacifist/diplomatic way of existing, and I mixed them up with the UN Blue Helmets (which yes, I understand, is still military) in my head.

Let me repeat that: I got mad at myself for subconsciously thinking of the wrong international military situation when I have no actual experience in or with the military. Everything’s fine.

Also, the French Foreign Legion doesn’t admit women.

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Morning Meeting

Welcome, everyone. Good to have you with us. I’m one of the board members, and I dance on the desk on Wednesdays. Mondays, I’m responsible for chairing the meeting with the CEO. Unfortunately, the CEO is indisposed at the moment.

I just did a perfunctory search for a gif of an ostrich with its head in the sand but its eyes looking out, and was met with a whole host of gifs of actual ostriches doing crazy shit.

And while I do highly recommend checking out some of these gifs of actual ostriches doing crazy shit, none of those gifs work for this meeting. For that, I am incredibly sorry.

Meeting adjourned! Have a great day! Even you, CEO.

Morning Meeting

BOARD: Heeeey, CEO?
CEO: WHAT.
BOARD: You see that over there?
CEO: WHAT OVER WHERE.
BOARD: Um, your to-do list.

CEO: What to-do list? I don’t see a to-do list.

BOARD: Um, the to-do list that you spent a bunch of time making yesterday? And just threw over there? THAT to-do list? Go get it.
CEO: UGHHHHHHHH.

BOARD: Fine. Now are you gonna update it for today’s to-do?
CEO: I can’t remember anything I have to do.
BOARD: Pick it up and try.
CEO: I hate you.

BOARD: You’ll like us better when you have a clear idea of what’s supposed to happen today.
CEO: NO I WON’T. You’re me and I’m you and I still hate you.
BOARD: That doesn’t make any sense.
CEO: Oh, just think about it. It does. I gotta go on a long walk for no reason. Bye.

 

Morning Meeting

My executive function has been anthropomorphized into a morning meeting that nobody really wants to attend and could probably be an email. The board members try to convince the CEO that it does, in fact, have to run the company. The CEO is still unconvinced at this time.

Side note: I brought this up to a friend once, and he said: “I’m imagining tiny versions of you in business suits and glasses kind of zoning out in a very messy office. One of them is dancing on a desk.”
This is an incredibly accurate snapshot of the interior of my brain at any given moment. One of them is always dancing on a desk. Sometimes it’s a weird slow swaying, sometimes a whole lot of bopping around. There is not always music playing.

Anyway, let’s call this meeting to order.

CEO: “Wait, we just did brain stuff yesterday.”
BOARD: “You have to be a brain today, too.”
CEO: “It’s not worth it, everything is terrible and so are you.”
BOARD: “I know, brain, but you have to try.”
CEO: “Ughhhhhh FIIIIINE. Fuck you.”

CEO looks around and sputters out.

CEO (to no one in particular): “Was that okay?”

We’ll see you for tomorrow’s meeting.