Someday I hope to attain the skill of knowing what to say. Let me add, knowing what to say in the moment not six hours later when I’m waiting for sleep to come. Because not only does the perfect response hours after the fact produce a sleepless night, but it would just be nice being able to carry on a conversation. Or not overly fret because I realize (at the same late hour) that my filter never kicked in. And I disclosed too much that didn’t need to be shared. Santa, that’s what I want for Christmas, to be a right words at the right time kinda person. Think your elves can manage that one? If I were in a Christmas movie they would.
humor
Dream a Little Dream
photo courtesy the web
I’ve been having some rather odd dreams lately. Perhaps, my dreams are always odd but for some reason I am remembering them when I wake up. One dream that I keep reflecting on involved a locked briefcase. In my living room. There was an urgency to unlock the briefcase but nobody around me knew the combination code. My little team (I can’t remember who made up my team) did our best to pry open the lock. It took some time, but we finally managed to open it – just in time of whoever or whatever we were trying to avoid. And what was in the briefcase? Another locked, albeit smaller, briefcase.
In an effort to foil the people who were coming after the briefcase, I took out the smaller one and placed a weight inside the bigger one. Then we closed it and left it where the bad people could find it (genius!). I never found out what was in the smaller case, why it was so heavy, why there were people after it all thanks to the typical dream ender ruiner – I woke up. But I’m still curious.
So, I consulted Google to help me find answers. I typed in “What does it mean if I dream of a briefcase” and these are the top results.
From a website called, ExperienceProject.com “To dream of briefcase means the ideas intellectual thoughts that are intensely personal and part of what defines you. To dream that you are carrying a briefcase means your level or preparedness in some situation or circumstance. It also refers to your concerns and worries about work and travel. To dream that you lose your briefcase means you feel or fear you aren’t staying on top of your responsibilities, you need to pay more attention to them, or the work area of your life seems neglected. For a women to dream of opening a briefcase in front of her means that she going to start a business. To dream of yourself tightly carrying, gripping or nervously setting down a brief case beside you means information, advice and suggestions which you are keeping back from another person.The needed information you are choosing to keep to yourself involves a marital issue, family matter, relationship situation or finances.”
First of all, something about this leads me to believe this was translated from a different language. And second, does this mean I’m going to start a business? Unlikely. I kept looking for answers.
A website called Dreamforth.com had this to offer, “To dream of a briefcase indicates that you have confidence in your ability to handle a difficult task or issue. It may also reflect any anxieties you harbor regarding your job or an upcoming journey.”
Hmm, I have confidence in my ability to handle a difficult task or issue? Insert buzzer sound here. It is possible I have some anxieties about my job though.
Dreamomania.com associates briefcases with “Attitudes and beliefs about work and business, professional identity.”
Based on that, my identity is locked? And an unsolved mystery since I never got to see what was in the briefcase that was inside the briefcase. Am I really that complex? I really doubt it.
One more?
At Mimi.hu dreams about briefcases reflect “Work, your career, your responsibilities.”
It also states, “Losing your briefcase could mean you feel or fear you aren’t staying on top of your responsibilities, you need to pay more attention to them, or the work area of your life seems neglected.”
I didn’t lose the briefcase, though. It was in plain sight the whole time. I just didn’t know the combination to open the darn thing.
The website also mentions “To see or carry a briefcase in your dream, represents your level of preparedness in some situation or circumstance. It also refers to your concerns and worries about work and travel.”
But I never carried it. For the most part, it in my living room.
Compiling everything I looked up, my briefcase dream means I’m worried about work. Apparently I’m so worried I have a little baby job inside of my main job? And mean people are after it. Because I have the enviable, hot-market job of… data entry. Yeah, who wouldn’t be after that?
Huh.
Or…
Last week – about the same time as the dream – I blogged I felt like a spy because of my late night, covert, dark library parking lot entries. The fact I never found out what was so important in the briefcase inside the briefcase just shows how lazy I am. I couldn’t even come up with a decent ending for my adventure created in my own subconscious.
As I said before, I don’t give much stock into dreams. They are just stories my subconscious is trying to share with me. Typically they are a mash-up of my day that comes out in sometimes entertaining plot lines. Sometimes disturbing plot lines. Don’t look too hard for a hidden meaning. I’m not that deep.
Giving Out the Giggles
You never know when a laugh is going to hit you. Hollywood spends top dollar to hire sitcom writers and their jokes fall flat. But a one minute commercial hawking services gives me the giggles. Go figure.
First of all, I’ve never had that much trouble with a garden hose. After all, it’s a garden hose. I’m pretty sure I’m smarter than it. After watching this commercial a couple of times though, I think I found out why I never encountered the problems these poor folks have. I’ve never watered my lawn in black and white. They just need to turn on the color. Problem solved.
But what really gave out the giggles to me is about 41 seconds into the ad. Yeah, that’s what I look like when I’m using a sprayer. “Ooh, seven settings make me so giddy!” Or, “I must water the lawn. And then I will eat your brain because that’s what we freaky pod people do.” That last one could just be how my mind works though.
Oh, good times with the garden hose.
Never, Ever Push the Reset Button (a good general rule to live by)
Photo courtesy the web. Caption added.
This has been a busy week. As I mentioned, my internet was down for a few days. This dilemma and major inconvenience led to late night blog postings in the library parking lot. I hope y’all appreciated my posts this week because hanging out in the dark parking lot by my lonesome self was a bit creepy. Sure, I could have forgone the blog this week but I know me. Once I’m out of the habit I tend to forget to get back into it. (Squirrel!) That’s why I sat in the parking lot and posted. I have no delusions it was for your benefit, I know it was for mine.
Not only did I have late night library visits but I also had the opportunity to speak with Century Link representatives. I wish I could remember their names because they deserve a little shout out. Even if it is only to my faithful 5.
During my Monday night conversation I explained the problem I experienced with the internet. The service tech listened and asked what steps I had already taken to solve the problem.
“I turned off the modem. Unplugged all the cords and wires,” I hesitated. Should I confess everything? Might as well. “And I pushed the reset button.”
“Oh,” he said surprised at the disclosure. “We generally don’t recommend pushing the reset button as that returns the modem to its factory setting.”
Oh, dangme.
Apparently there is some sort of Century Link training in remaining optimistic and positive with the customer. He said in his next breath, “But way to go in trying every measure you could think of to restore the internet.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“No, that’s good. We now know you have tried almost everything.” He reassured me then he had me plug the modem into another phone jack. Still no success. “Okay, I am going to have to schedule a technician to come to your house. The next available time is Wednesday morning.” But what will I do in that 24 hour block called Tuesday? No internet. No Facebook. The horror!
Tyler, the Century Link Technician visited on Wednesday morning. He checked every room in the house (so glad my bed was made and no feminine articles of clothing were left out). “How old is the house?” he asked. Yes, we know our wiring is old. Then he went outside and discovered the problem. Late this summer we hired someone to come trim our tree. He had to unhook our wires and didn’t hook them up quite right when he finished.
We had internet again. Well, we would have if I hadn’t pushed the reset button. When I got home from work I had to call Century Link again. Another technician walked me through restoring the internet. I told him I have learned my lesson to never, ever push the reset button again.
Again, the Century Link positivity training came through. “That’s okay,” he said and laughed. “Sometimes it is helpful.”
In any case, I plan on making a note to tape to the back of the modem. It will read simply, “NEVER, EVER PUSH THIS TINY BUTTON RIGHT HERE. BAD THINGS HAPPEN.” Although I’m pretty sure I will remember from now on.
The Worst Day of the Year
50+ Online Dating (what the heck?!)
True, I am in the single person demographic. As such, I’m not surprised when I receive an email a day from Match.com. I’m not into the whole online dating scene. Just not my thing. I’ve never visited the site or solicited services – that I know of. Sometimes my computer likes to click on links on its own. That can get me into a lot of trouble.
Halloween 2012
I like Halloween. At least, I like the escapism aspect of being somebody else for the day. Not really into the gory and scary themes. This is what I dressed as for work today.
photo by L. Warren
In case you’re wondering, I’m a tourist. Yes, that is a funny expression on my face. I was in the middle of asking, “Do I have to be in the picture by myself?” when she clicked. The next picture she took I had a cowboy accompany me.
And yes, I know it’s a boring costume. There are two reasons for that.
One, I spend almost nine hours a day at work. Nine hours is a long time to sit with an uncomfortable costume on. So, I opted for the most comfortable costume I could think of. After the initial picture taking was finished, I worked all day in a t-shirt, jeans, and tennis shoes. I think the word you’re looking for is GENIUS!
Two, every Halloween I have this tiny little fear that I’ll be the only one dressed up. Kind of like what happened to Pam in The Office. That thought alone is enough to keep my efforts pretty minimal.
It’s now time to start handing out candy to the Trick-or-Treaters. My goal is to get rid of all my candy. So, come on over!
The Legend of Harvey’s Tomb
For the record, I do not like to be scared. It doesn’t take much; I’ve been known to jump when somebody walks into my office and says hello. Just walk in not jump or holler or even say “Boo!” I’ll admit I’m a bit skittish.
Scary movies are out of the question. My older sister, MZ, always loved scary, intense movies and could watch them. And then go to bed! I was not blessed with that ability. If I watched a scary movie, I couldn’t sleep for at least a week. One time MZ watched “Poltergeist,” and I tried to be brave and stay in the room. (Though when my mom questioned me after two weeks of not being able to fall asleep, I tried to play innocent and said, “I didn’t know what she was watching.”) I didn’t watch it, but I heard it. Or enough of it anyway. I couldn’t fall asleep with the tv on until I was well into my twenties.
My brother, let me emphasize my older brother, has taken advantage of my jumpiness on more than one occasion. The house we grew up in is conveniently located near the cemetery. In the cemetery next to the fence is an old family tomb with the name “Harvey” engraved on it. Next to the tomb is an exact copy in a much smaller size (rumor has it for Harvey’s dog). According to local lore, if a person knocks on the big tomb’s door and circles it three times, something or someone inside will knock back.
Apparently, my brother, RH, and his friend JO were fairly bored one summer day. Bored enough that they let me tag along on their adventures. RH is seven years older than me and has always been my hero so for me to be included, I was on cloud 9.75. We went on a bike ride to the cemetery, them on their ten-speeds and me on my newly minted two-wheel bike.
This is when I heard the legend of Harvey’s Tomb for the first time. And of course, my brother dared me to perform the ritual. Because he was my audience I had to do it. But I had to dig deep to find the courage to follow through. I really didn’t want to be in the cemetery at that moment, I wanted to be home where I didn’t have to worry about thing in tombs that knocked back. But I knocked. And I ran around once. Nothing.
“Run around again,” my brother urged with what I now know was a devilish grin.
I knocked a little softer and ran around again. Nothing.
“One more time,” my brother said.
I took a deep breath then knocked quickly and ran around for the third time.
“Listen,” RH said and leaned toward the door. I followed his lead and put my ear on the door.
Suddenly, RH yelled, “RUN!”
He didn’t have to tell me twice. I was on my bike and pedaling toward the gate before he got the “N” out. When I got to the gate I figured it was far enough away from danger to rendezvous. But RH and JO were nowhere to be found. They were on their own because there was no way I was going back in for them. If they didn’t make it out, I guess I’d get RH’s room.
But they made it out. And my brother was laughing at me. “You should have seen your face!” He said while holding his side. “I’ve never seen anyone pedal so fast.” And as family stories never die, this one still surfaces from time to time. Usually during a big, family dinner. RH laughs when he recalls, “All we could see was dust from CK’s little bike.”
If I Were Cast in The Office I’d Be…
I used to watch The Office faithfully every Thursday night. I even watched it when it was a struggling newcomer. It appealed to me because of the job I had at that time.
I watched as Angela fussed with the thermostat. The next day at work, I watched as PT fussed with the thermostat. She turned and looked at all of us with a glare warning us to not touch it again. Her reaction wasn’t as funny as Angela’s.
I watched the episode where Michael has to take the sexual harassment class. My boss at the time disclosed an inappropriate story I’m still working hard to forget. Again, not so funny.
Then I switched jobs. And I got cast into the show. Sure, I like to picture myself as Pam. Nice, normal Pam. I took a Facebook Quiz once and it said I was Pam. We all know how reliable that information is so I didn’t press it. No retakes for me.
However, I began to have my doubts that I wasn’t Pam. A sinking feeling that I am actually somebody else in The Office. And then I laughed when I realized who I am.
I am charm-type!
Farewell Facebook
Facebook, you evil genius, you.
How clever of you to work your way into my heart
until I’m addicted to you
So, please understand, the time has come for us to part.
ck's days 