Bestanden

Two-week-old news by now, but I share here. My final grade in Deutsch III is a mid-B, 84.8%. I still feel like Professorin was being too kind to me in her scoring, because I still don’t trust my competence. I feel like I did terribly. Scores aren’t everything. I’m not fluent.

Throughout the latter half of the semester, I resolved to stop here, to not move on to Deutsch IV. I have 100 reasons to feel bad about myself every day, and I don’t want to opt into another one. This class just makes me irrationally angry.

But, and this is my goddamned burden, I feel like I need to take IV for the sake of completeness. Sunk cost. Just to say, “Yes, I took all of it, and I definitely tried without quitting.” But goddamn. Why do I hate myself this hard?

Thumb Taps

Dreamed that the cloud had become sentient and hungry, and was optimizing handhelds to attract and lock people into their gravity. The moment anyone grabs a device, they quickly lose all presence and vitality. It was trapping the teenagers of the camp I was staffing. They become terminals, assets to the cloud in droves. Grabbing one, I could feel myself losing my perception until I stirred and dropped the phone. I resolved then to find enough flip-phones that I could substitute and break people from their chains. Whatever saves peoples minds and brings them back from the brink.

Yeah, dreams are dumb. I hate talking about them, because frequently they’re just random nonsense that means nothing to anyone. But sometimes they do shine a light on fears in the undercurrent.

Capped

Found out today, while scheduling PTO for the holidays, that I am currently at my limit for saving up my Paid Time Off. I’m unable to accrue any more free time-money. 280 hours, max. That’s 7 fucking business-weeks. What even am I doing with my life?

In “Star Trek: Insurrection”, Captain Picard mentioned he had 6 months shore leave saved up and that he’d like to visit the planet again. I’m not near that level of bank, but if not for the cap I’d start calling myself Jean Luc, because my dedication(?) to the job is just that selfless(?) and I’d have all that company liability owed to me. At my current rate I’m accruing almost 8 hours of PTO every 2-week pay period. At 26 pay periods per year, that’s just over 25 days; 5 weeks.

I am doing this wrong.

The last time I took a long vacation was exactly this week in 2023 to go visit friends in Seattle. Since then, I’ve taken only 1, maaaybe 2 days off at a stretch to go visit family back in Arkansas. But that’s penny-ante bullshit. That’s not a vacation. That’s work. I need a real vacation. I need real time off, to remember why I’m fucking doing any of this. To enjoy my stupid life. No fucking wonder I’m burned the fuck out.

I don’t have to travel; I can have a staycation (ugh), but that doesn’t feel right. I need to be out there, not in my dumb little life with my dumb little patterns. The burden of planning and booking anything keeps me from bothering. But that’s not right. Definitely not right.

Now that I have a coworker who can read a wiki, the lights will stay on while I’m out. So to hell with it, I’m taking Fridays off for the rest of the year, probably. At least until the holidays.

Or whatever.

Scribble

Dreamed I had lost the ability to write. Met a girl, we hit it off, she had to leave town, so I wanted to give her my number and email address. Tried to write it all down. My letterforms came out garbled, incomplete, illegible. Like I had a stroke or something. It was kinda traumatic. Literally the definition of trauma: a dream.

It makes me concerned for my future.

Of course, this was inspired by my past: last night, jaggedly writing an entry in my journal. I need to continue the practice of handwriting more, because my muscles are getting sloppy. But not that sloppy, eesh. Even my typing is waning, because I spend much of my day swiping and tapping.

I should spend more concern in my present.