People are just impish, today.

After reading byrdie's latest entry, I've come to this conclusion, given corroborating evidence.

Such as:

My lab was having its general/chemical safety inspection today. The junior tech, with an unbelievably straight face, when asking why the U has a mercury thermometer disposal program, added "But I just poured a whole bottle of mercury down the sink yesterday..." with a quizzical tone. The inspector and I looked at each other for a second, until she burst out laughing, and I tried to hold a straight face whilst I 'fired' the junior tech.

Also, had the micropipettors calibrated today, with two service guys coming in from the company we'd selected. The aforementioned junior tech at some point commented to the two how the tech and I are something like an old married couple, with the way we play off of each other. One of the service guys looked over at us with a raised eyebrow, and then turned to his coworker and goes "Hang on dear, you've got some mustard on your cheek." and wipes off the imaginary blot.

Finally, we had to have our biological safety cabinet lowered a couple of inches to improve the airflow. The plant guy came in and did it, and then commented that we now had a 'low-rider' hood. I go "Pachuco!" and mime sitting in a low-rider with hydraulics. The plant guy cracks up: turns out he'd spent two years in Salinas, California, capital of the low-rider cult in America.

What a weird, weird day.

(And to finish it off, thanks to cheshyre from her riba_rambles feed, this delightful new computer screen maintenance utility.)

(no subject)

Often, it's dispelling the dreams that's the hardest thing. Not the learning curve of adjusting to a new kind of life, emptier and quieter, nor the quandary of asking what to do next and where to go, or even accepting that what happens to others has also happened to you.

No, you grow to appreciate the quiet; and to acknowledge that for now, this job will do; and renewed empathy for others is never a bad thing.

Facing that little 5- or 7- or 10-year-old inside, the one that had all the biggest aspirations, the boldest ideas, the warmest dreams, is what's hard. Even, seeing that awkward teenager who kept hoping that it would get better, and that all this short-term agony would fade, the difficulty is staggering.

Looking that child in the eye, and going, bluntly, unequivocally, no, I didn't make that goal; no, life isn't like that; and no, the pain doesn't always stay away. It must be the final stage of growing up, of becoming a real adult, to understand that the only thing which broke those dreams, which took those hopes and dashed them, the only person responsible, well, is yourself.

Because saying sorry doesn't help. There is no point in apologizing to yourself. Nothing for it but to face the grindstone, and to acknowledge that, for now, this is life.

In time, new dreams, or at least new directions, will fill my mind. I have to remind myself of this. And as the days wear on, and I keep feeling more and more tired, lonely, aimless; I keep telling that to myself.

The nights I don't believe myself are the worst.

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I've had nights like this before, and I'll have them again. I imagine it's part of the process. Somettimes the process just sucks.