It's a Dead Man's Party
Jul. 31st, 2003 04:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cassy_gYesterday, I woke up with one of those special back aches that feels like someone lodged an icepick between my vertebre. I tried not to move around too much, although the trip down to Riverdale for the scheduling meeting was really uncomfortable. I never realized how many bumps there are in the Atlanta highways before!
I worked all day yesterday on putting out fires, answering programming questions, arranging for copiers and printers, etc. Then I get to the meeting and we made so many changes, that I almost question why we ever made a schedule to begin with. Some of them were due to guest restrictions, they can't very well be on a panel Friday at 1pm if they aren't flying in until Saturday at 10am. Some were less logical reasons, but couldn't be ignored either. I sent out emails answering questions and requests for track directors, but now I have to figure out the overall impact of the changes we made to the Main Programming, and figure out which tracks were affected so I can email them out as soon as possible. All in all, the meeting felt very counter productive.
I think I worded it best when I wrote up the Progress Report: 1500 hours. 4 days. Don't blink.
It's like a giant monochromatic puzzle where all the pieces are the same shape and size, but they have to fit together just right or the picture turns out all wrong. Oh, and some pieces have fallen under the couch (missing track schedules, or rather ones that haven't been given to me yet).
The meeting ran really long too, it was just after 11pm when we got home. It seemed like it should have been later than that. I was completely worn out and went to bed after sending out all the emails I had written during the meeting. I didn't sleep very well.
I had a dream that the goths were going to have a parade. But they were calling it Dead Man's Dirge, because "parade" sounded too happy and cheerful. They were lumbering down Peachtree Street, white as ghosts, thin as bones, cloaked in black at night, like the shambling dead.
I'm not sure, but I think that it says something very disturbing about my mental state at the moment, mostly because for a half a second, it seemed like a good idea to me.
I've been up since 3am, trying to sort out the hugger-mugger and downing antacid like it's cola.
And I still have that icepick in my back.
I worked all day yesterday on putting out fires, answering programming questions, arranging for copiers and printers, etc. Then I get to the meeting and we made so many changes, that I almost question why we ever made a schedule to begin with. Some of them were due to guest restrictions, they can't very well be on a panel Friday at 1pm if they aren't flying in until Saturday at 10am. Some were less logical reasons, but couldn't be ignored either. I sent out emails answering questions and requests for track directors, but now I have to figure out the overall impact of the changes we made to the Main Programming, and figure out which tracks were affected so I can email them out as soon as possible. All in all, the meeting felt very counter productive.
I think I worded it best when I wrote up the Progress Report: 1500 hours. 4 days. Don't blink.
It's like a giant monochromatic puzzle where all the pieces are the same shape and size, but they have to fit together just right or the picture turns out all wrong. Oh, and some pieces have fallen under the couch (missing track schedules, or rather ones that haven't been given to me yet).
The meeting ran really long too, it was just after 11pm when we got home. It seemed like it should have been later than that. I was completely worn out and went to bed after sending out all the emails I had written during the meeting. I didn't sleep very well.
I had a dream that the goths were going to have a parade. But they were calling it Dead Man's Dirge, because "parade" sounded too happy and cheerful. They were lumbering down Peachtree Street, white as ghosts, thin as bones, cloaked in black at night, like the shambling dead.
I'm not sure, but I think that it says something very disturbing about my mental state at the moment, mostly because for a half a second, it seemed like a good idea to me.
I've been up since 3am, trying to sort out the hugger-mugger and downing antacid like it's cola.
And I still have that icepick in my back.
