In which it's been two months
Apr. 26th, 2011 10:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
zeborah(And a bit. I neglected to commemorate due to intervention of cat.)
"This #eqnz is like tennis. Greendale, Lyttelton, Greendale, Lyttelton, point. Fault, Double Fault." (johnstewartnz)
Also a Wordle made from tweets with the #eqnz hashtag (click to see full-size):
The weird thing (?) is that I've never dreamed about earthquakes or aftershocks. A few times about the aftermath, but very vaguely. The first time was the night of the 22nd when as I finally dropped off to sleep I dreamed I was stepping into the mud on Aldwins Road and slipped and the jerk woke me up. I think one dream some weeks later included the image of safety fences but I don't recall anything else. And last night I dreamed I was correcting someone, saying that my walls were fine, it was just the wallpaper that's been ripped, and feeling as if I'd been (albeit accidentally) misleading them until then.
Our aftershocks don't really frighten me anymore; not in my head. My body still reacts. Anything will make me alert; a 4 or so will startle my adrenaline up; a 5 and I'll be moving for cover. The idea of another 6, 7, or God forbid an 8, does frighten me, but more because of the damage it'd cause than from a fear of the shaking itself. --Though I expect that if a 7 or 8 did strike I would be afraid during it too.
Also, paradox time: At my most exhausted, the most irrational part of my mind occasionally wished that there would be a really big one to end it all. The rational part of my mind always looked side-eye at it and said "You what now? You know that a big one would end people and buildings, not end the aftermath and set us back to normal, right?" But irrational brain is irrational.
I'm a lot more rested now (despite intervention of cat) so not only is irrational brain either satisfied or submerged, but I suspect I'll be able to go back to work tomorrow without feeling weepy all day. Not that I wouldn't like a third week of holiday -- my to-do list is long and I've been bribing myself with chocolate this morning to make phone calls about the most vital items on it -- but I think I've reached a point where I'll be able to cope with the necessary task of figuring out the new shape of my job. Plus, starting with a 3-day work week will be a help.
One more phone call, then chocolate, then shops.
"This #eqnz is like tennis. Greendale, Lyttelton, Greendale, Lyttelton, point. Fault, Double Fault." (johnstewartnz)
Also a Wordle made from tweets with the #eqnz hashtag (click to see full-size):
The weird thing (?) is that I've never dreamed about earthquakes or aftershocks. A few times about the aftermath, but very vaguely. The first time was the night of the 22nd when as I finally dropped off to sleep I dreamed I was stepping into the mud on Aldwins Road and slipped and the jerk woke me up. I think one dream some weeks later included the image of safety fences but I don't recall anything else. And last night I dreamed I was correcting someone, saying that my walls were fine, it was just the wallpaper that's been ripped, and feeling as if I'd been (albeit accidentally) misleading them until then.
Our aftershocks don't really frighten me anymore; not in my head. My body still reacts. Anything will make me alert; a 4 or so will startle my adrenaline up; a 5 and I'll be moving for cover. The idea of another 6, 7, or God forbid an 8, does frighten me, but more because of the damage it'd cause than from a fear of the shaking itself. --Though I expect that if a 7 or 8 did strike I would be afraid during it too.
Also, paradox time: At my most exhausted, the most irrational part of my mind occasionally wished that there would be a really big one to end it all. The rational part of my mind always looked side-eye at it and said "You what now? You know that a big one would end people and buildings, not end the aftermath and set us back to normal, right?" But irrational brain is irrational.
I'm a lot more rested now (despite intervention of cat) so not only is irrational brain either satisfied or submerged, but I suspect I'll be able to go back to work tomorrow without feeling weepy all day. Not that I wouldn't like a third week of holiday -- my to-do list is long and I've been bribing myself with chocolate this morning to make phone calls about the most vital items on it -- but I think I've reached a point where I'll be able to cope with the necessary task of figuring out the new shape of my job. Plus, starting with a 3-day work week will be a help.
One more phone call, then chocolate, then shops.
