52 lines
3.0 KiB
HTML
52 lines
3.0 KiB
HTML
<!doctype html>
|
|
<html>
|
|
<head>
|
|
<title>Zk | 005</title>
|
|
<link rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="/style.css" />
|
|
<meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width" />
|
|
<meta charset="utf-8" />
|
|
</head>
|
|
<body>
|
|
<main>
|
|
<header>
|
|
<h1>Zk | 005</h1>
|
|
</header>
|
|
<article class="content">
|
|
<hr />
|
|
<p>date: 2019-10-07
|
|
weight: 5</p>
|
|
<hr />
|
|
<p>The problem of working with clients on a task with a specified end-goal, one that is finished and about which you can say, “ah, it does <em>this</em> now”, is that when the project is done, there is nothing left.</p>
|
|
<blockquote>
|
|
<p>This is a problem with any task. This is a grander problem.</p>
|
|
</blockquote>
|
|
<p>Yes, even with self-appointed tasks, even with tasks at a non job-shop. It happened just recently, too. I finished my time at IA. I got home from visiting Barac. I got the contract signed at NV.</p>
|
|
<p>If you hit a deadline and succeed, or if you have some work travel, or if you get home from a vacation, suddenly there’s this empty bit of your future where there used to be this thing. There’s just a void there. A sudden lack of weight.</p>
|
|
<blockquote>
|
|
<p>And so, back then, you finished the release at work and also finished the office move in one fell swoop, and went home.</p>
|
|
</blockquote>
|
|
<p>I went home and took my meds like a good girl, and then proceeded to dissociate right through the evening.</p>
|
|
<p>Dissociation is a hell of a drug.</p>
|
|
<blockquote>
|
|
<p>It’s a dreamy thing. It’s a soft thing. It’s a cottony thing. It’s a muffled thing. It’s watching your hands move. It’s watching yourself breathe. It’s feeling the air move in and out of you with a distant, slightly confused detachment. It’s “ah, it does <strong>this</strong> now”, except saying that about some strange machine which is not yourself.</p>
|
|
</blockquote>
|
|
<p>I watched myself sit down in my chair. I watched myself turn on <em>Babylon 5</em>. I watched myself mow through two glasses of gin.</p>
|
|
<blockquote>
|
|
<p>You watched yourself with a metaphysical quirk of the eyebrow as you reached forward, grabbed the box of X-acto wood-carving tools — purchased, doubtless, for some long forgotten project — and flipped it open. You watched numbly as you slashed open the inside of your arm. There was a moment where you marveled at how long it took for the blood to well up, where you could see the white of subcutaneous fat.</p>
|
|
</blockquote>
|
|
<p>And then the pain snapped me to.</p>
|
|
</article>
|
|
<footer>
|
|
<p>Page generated on 2020-06-24</p>
|
|
</footer>
|
|
</main>
|
|
<script type="text/javascript">
|
|
document.querySelectorAll('.tag').forEach(tag => {
|
|
let text = tag.innerText;
|
|
tag.innerText = '';
|
|
tag.innerHTML = `<a href="/tags.html#${text}">${text}</a>`;
|
|
});
|
|
</script>
|
|
</body>
|
|
</html>
|