I am the proud owner of a 95' Chevy Cavalier named Alfie that has more clicks on it than there is people living in my city. He's a good little car that's put up with a lot of abuse. This weekend was no exception.
I was in charge of sound equipment for an interactive dinner theatre production that happened Saturday night. We had to rent 4 gigantic speakers, 4 speaker stands, 2 projectors, 7 mikes (all in carrying cases the size of large laptops), a mixer, a DI box, and about 20 pounds worth of cables to connect all of this. I called a friend over to help me fit all this stuff in my car. We started out by putting one of the speakers in the trunk. We grabbed the speaker, hoisted it up and quickly found out that it was a little bit too large to fit into the trunk easily. It took us about 5 minutes of twisting, flipping, and some fine-tuned adjustments to find a way to get this speaker to fit through the opening. Then it became clear that only one speaker would fit in the trunk.
Eventually we got the one speaker and all of the speaker stands in the trunk, pulled down the back seat and put the other speaker, the 7 mikes, and one of the projectors on there, put the other projector on the floor in front of the passenger seat, and loaded the seat itself with the cables, DI box, the mixer, and eventually another piece of equipment we rented to deal with our issues with feedback. Someone else had to take the other speakers. Alfie did not like carrying this much weight. Driving him was like trying to push a giant boulder up a hill; possible, but you feel every ounce of effort you put in.
When we finally unloaded at the location, I felt like my car was a clown car, with more stuff coming out of him than should ever have fit in. And at the end of the night, poor Alfie had to be loaded up again so I could take all of the equipment back to the rentals place. It's a good thing he's such a loyal, stubborn little car, or he probably would have given up on me a long time ago.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Thursday, March 24, 2011
The cycle of exhaustion
I have had a very stressful week this week and it definitely doesn't show any signs of improving. This, combined with a few other factors, led to my brain being incredibly overactive last night and not letting me sleep. It's like being stuck in a conversation with someone who spends hours on end going into extreme detail about their day, from how many times they hit the snooze button to the difficulty they had choosing between a cheeseburger or a bacon cheeseburger for dinner. And the rest of my body was too polite to tell it to shut up so we could get some sleep. It took until 4am for me to be tired enough to ignore it and pass out. I had to get up at 6am.
And so begins the horrible cycle of exhaustion.
THE MORNING AFTER
When I first wake up after a night like this I'm always unbelievably alert. My brain has decided that I just had a wonderful 2-hour nap and I should be ready to go on with my day, forgetting that I was trying for a full night's sleep. My body gathers all of it's energy (I imagine it having a magical bag full of energy that it doles out, kind of like Santa giving presents to children) and, confused by the signals from my brain, believes that it has plenty left to get me through until bed time. Before either of them can correct this assumption, I pump myself full of caffeine. Now my body has more energy than it could ever use! This way I get through my morning without a problem.
THE AFTERNOON CRASH
My body spends the first part of the day handing out energy with glee. Taking a test? No problem, here's a bunch of energy to get you through it. Writing a blog? Why not, we have tons of energy to spare! More coffee? Why yes, please! Unfortunately I can't keep up this charade all day. I'm only willing to put so much of my spending money into keeping myself awake. Unaware that the caffeine supply is running low, my body continues to give out energy with reckless abandon.
Suddenly it happens. My brain says "body, would you mind climbing these stairs for me?" "With pleasure!' my body replies, reaching into it's magical bag. And realizing that there's not much left in there.
Full on panic mode starts. I go from being alert and ready to face my day to being barely capable to even deal with the stairs in front of me in a matter of milliseconds. My body hoards energy, giving out just enough to get me by, and watches fretfully as the supplies run lower and lower. It starts yelling at my brain "SLEEP! GO TO SLEEP! NOW!!!!", which is especially annoying when I am, say, driving my car somewhere. My eyes lose their ability to focus properly and I become clumsier than I already am as my brain fights between its need to shut down and its need to get me home first.
THE REST OF THE DAY
I become barely capable of functioning. My body resists any kind of movement, preferring to stay where it is and save the meager amount of energy that still remains. My brain is spending so much time fighting with itself that even forming a coherent sentence becomes difficult. All hopes of being productive are thrown out the window.
THE NEXT DAY
No matter how much sleep I get the next night, waking up the next day is like trying to dig my way to China with my bare hands. My brain has tired itself out from all the fighting yesterday, and my body is still in survival mode and refuses to give out more than the bare minimum of energy required. Sentences are slightly easier to form than last night, but any activity which doesn't require huge amounts of attention results in a strong desire to go back to bed.
It's not until the next night that there's any hope of breaking the cycle. Of course, my brain and body learn nothing from this experience, and happily repeat the whole thing a month or two down the road.
And so begins the horrible cycle of exhaustion.
THE MORNING AFTER
When I first wake up after a night like this I'm always unbelievably alert. My brain has decided that I just had a wonderful 2-hour nap and I should be ready to go on with my day, forgetting that I was trying for a full night's sleep. My body gathers all of it's energy (I imagine it having a magical bag full of energy that it doles out, kind of like Santa giving presents to children) and, confused by the signals from my brain, believes that it has plenty left to get me through until bed time. Before either of them can correct this assumption, I pump myself full of caffeine. Now my body has more energy than it could ever use! This way I get through my morning without a problem.
THE AFTERNOON CRASH
My body spends the first part of the day handing out energy with glee. Taking a test? No problem, here's a bunch of energy to get you through it. Writing a blog? Why not, we have tons of energy to spare! More coffee? Why yes, please! Unfortunately I can't keep up this charade all day. I'm only willing to put so much of my spending money into keeping myself awake. Unaware that the caffeine supply is running low, my body continues to give out energy with reckless abandon.
Suddenly it happens. My brain says "body, would you mind climbing these stairs for me?" "With pleasure!' my body replies, reaching into it's magical bag. And realizing that there's not much left in there.
Full on panic mode starts. I go from being alert and ready to face my day to being barely capable to even deal with the stairs in front of me in a matter of milliseconds. My body hoards energy, giving out just enough to get me by, and watches fretfully as the supplies run lower and lower. It starts yelling at my brain "SLEEP! GO TO SLEEP! NOW!!!!", which is especially annoying when I am, say, driving my car somewhere. My eyes lose their ability to focus properly and I become clumsier than I already am as my brain fights between its need to shut down and its need to get me home first.
THE REST OF THE DAY
I become barely capable of functioning. My body resists any kind of movement, preferring to stay where it is and save the meager amount of energy that still remains. My brain is spending so much time fighting with itself that even forming a coherent sentence becomes difficult. All hopes of being productive are thrown out the window.
THE NEXT DAY
No matter how much sleep I get the next night, waking up the next day is like trying to dig my way to China with my bare hands. My brain has tired itself out from all the fighting yesterday, and my body is still in survival mode and refuses to give out more than the bare minimum of energy required. Sentences are slightly easier to form than last night, but any activity which doesn't require huge amounts of attention results in a strong desire to go back to bed.
It's not until the next night that there's any hope of breaking the cycle. Of course, my brain and body learn nothing from this experience, and happily repeat the whole thing a month or two down the road.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
This blog is brought to you by amnesia
While I was driving today I came up with a fanastic idea for a blog. Wrote about half of it in my head, figuring I'd leave the rest for when I got home. And here I sit. I know I was going to do it in letter format, so I was going to start off with "Dear so and so".....
That's all I've got.
So instead, you get this picture. Enjoy.
Because ninja cookies make everything better.
That's all I've got.
So instead, you get this picture. Enjoy.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Scanning is hard.
Today at work a coworker approached me with a book. He opened the book about 2/3 of the way through, indicated the first part of it and said, "Can you scan these pages so I can send them to our other plant?" I stared at the pile of paper he was showing me. It was a lot of pages. Our scanner is finicky and likes to screw things up partway through scanning them. I was answering phones as well and given the frequency of the incoming calls, running back and forth between the scanner and the reception desk was going to cause issues. I managed to squeeze out some sort of polite comment asking if he really wanted all of those pages. Thankfully he thought for a second and decided it was better to only scan the pages they really needed, and if they want any of the other ones they can let us know. So my work load was cut in half. Good thing too, as scanning turned into quite the ordeal.
First thing I noticed was that the book was too wide for the scanner. After a bit of fiddling I devised a way to scan one page at a time, although half of the pages were going to be upside down. I prayed I could fix them after the fact and set to work. I was doing pretty well at the start, and got about halfway through before the phone rang. I ran off to answer it, and ended up trapped on the phone for a good 2-3 minutes trying to figure out who this guy wanted to talk to. By the time I came back, the scanner had decided that I clearly didn't want all these pages I was scanning since I had been gone so long, and had thrown them away.
Attempt #1 is a failure. Start over. Lesson learned: if I will be away from the scanner for a while, go back and end the scan, then finish the phone call and start from where I left off. Piece of cake.
This time I get about a third of the way in before the phone rang. I ran over, answered it. Took a few moments for the person to get around to saying what they wanted, but passed them off fairly quickly. Or so I thought. Get back just in time for the scanner to beep and, once again, toss my hard work into the abyss.
Attempt #2 is also a failure. Start over. Lesson learned: just end the scan.
This time, I am prepared. When the phone rings I end the scan, no questions asked. It takes me three tries, but I get through it all. Finally. Feeling accomplished, I strut back to my desk to feast my eyes on the spoils of my efforts. I open the scanner folder, open up the first file, and......the scanner chose the wrong paper size. The bottom of all of the scans is cut off. They are useless.
Attempt #3 is still a failure. Delete and start over. Lesson learned: maybe I'm just not meant to scan.
I trudge back to the scanner and wander through it's various settings until I finally manage to force it to choose the scan size I want. Get about 4 pages in. Phone rings. End the scan to answer the phone. This time I actually check the completed scans to see if they worked. Bottoms of the pages are still cut off.
Attempt #4 is a failure too. Delete and start over. Lesson learned: I may be completely incompetent.
At this point one of my co-workers who covers the phones when I'm away from the desk offered to take calls while I finished this project. Thankful that I had one less thing to focus on, I told her my scanning woes and my issues with the pages being cut off. She replied, "Couldn't you do two pages at once, and use the legal-size setting?" As I was in the process of telling her how the book was too wide, the little voice in the back of my head woke up, took stock of the situation, and informed me that I was being stupid. If you imagine the scanner like a Word document, I was laying the book down as if portrait was the only option, and hence only letter-size. I completely forgot about landscape.
So I go to the scanner and rotate the book 90 degrees. Lo and behold, it actually fits now. I start scanning, and two minutes later I am done. I check the scans, and they are beautiful. My work is complete.
Attempt #5 is a success. Go back to my desk and remind myself that this is why I learned to laugh at myself. Lesson learned: the hair dye can cover the blonde, but it can't make it go away.
First thing I noticed was that the book was too wide for the scanner. After a bit of fiddling I devised a way to scan one page at a time, although half of the pages were going to be upside down. I prayed I could fix them after the fact and set to work. I was doing pretty well at the start, and got about halfway through before the phone rang. I ran off to answer it, and ended up trapped on the phone for a good 2-3 minutes trying to figure out who this guy wanted to talk to. By the time I came back, the scanner had decided that I clearly didn't want all these pages I was scanning since I had been gone so long, and had thrown them away.
Attempt #1 is a failure. Start over. Lesson learned: if I will be away from the scanner for a while, go back and end the scan, then finish the phone call and start from where I left off. Piece of cake.
This time I get about a third of the way in before the phone rang. I ran over, answered it. Took a few moments for the person to get around to saying what they wanted, but passed them off fairly quickly. Or so I thought. Get back just in time for the scanner to beep and, once again, toss my hard work into the abyss.
Attempt #2 is also a failure. Start over. Lesson learned: just end the scan.
This time, I am prepared. When the phone rings I end the scan, no questions asked. It takes me three tries, but I get through it all. Finally. Feeling accomplished, I strut back to my desk to feast my eyes on the spoils of my efforts. I open the scanner folder, open up the first file, and......the scanner chose the wrong paper size. The bottom of all of the scans is cut off. They are useless.
Attempt #3 is still a failure. Delete and start over. Lesson learned: maybe I'm just not meant to scan.
I trudge back to the scanner and wander through it's various settings until I finally manage to force it to choose the scan size I want. Get about 4 pages in. Phone rings. End the scan to answer the phone. This time I actually check the completed scans to see if they worked. Bottoms of the pages are still cut off.
Attempt #4 is a failure too. Delete and start over. Lesson learned: I may be completely incompetent.
At this point one of my co-workers who covers the phones when I'm away from the desk offered to take calls while I finished this project. Thankful that I had one less thing to focus on, I told her my scanning woes and my issues with the pages being cut off. She replied, "Couldn't you do two pages at once, and use the legal-size setting?" As I was in the process of telling her how the book was too wide, the little voice in the back of my head woke up, took stock of the situation, and informed me that I was being stupid. If you imagine the scanner like a Word document, I was laying the book down as if portrait was the only option, and hence only letter-size. I completely forgot about landscape.
So I go to the scanner and rotate the book 90 degrees. Lo and behold, it actually fits now. I start scanning, and two minutes later I am done. I check the scans, and they are beautiful. My work is complete.
Attempt #5 is a success. Go back to my desk and remind myself that this is why I learned to laugh at myself. Lesson learned: the hair dye can cover the blonde, but it can't make it go away.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
I suppose an introduction is in order...
Hello there, internet. My name is Danielle. You can call me... well, whatever the hell you want really. I'm not going to bother correcting you.
I am a crazy, tall, slightly weird but still very awesome person living in British Columbia, which happens to be pretty much the most amazing place ever. I have a boyfriend who lives in Ontario, which happens to be much less amazing than BC. In fact, I think the whole province of Ontario would be greatly improved if it just moved about 3 timezones to the west. I also have two brothers, two parents, and no pets. I'm currently trying to finish my bachelor's degree in Human Kinetics, though I'm not 100% sure what I'm going to do with it yet. I love dancing, swimming, playgrounds, reading, puzzles, anything that's midly amusing, and writing. Hence the blog.
I have no specific plans for this blog. Mostly I hope to use it to share funny stories from my day, though I can't promise that I'll completely avoid the occasional woe-is-me pity party post. Feel free to skip over those ones. Overally, I'll usually make fun of myself. As you may have guessed from the name of my blog, I am not the most coordinated person, and I have a tendency towards blonde moments. Sometimes I will also use this blog to make fun of my loved ones. Why? Because I can.
I also have no specific timeline for making posts. I hope to put something up several times a week. That said, I tend to keep myself extremely busy, so sometimes my posting may become quite sporadic. Deal with it.
I'm assuming that very few people will actually read this blog, so I'll stop there. If anyone does have questions, feel free to contact me. Or just make something up in your head, it'll probably be more interesting anyways.
Love,
Danielle
I am a crazy, tall, slightly weird but still very awesome person living in British Columbia, which happens to be pretty much the most amazing place ever. I have a boyfriend who lives in Ontario, which happens to be much less amazing than BC. In fact, I think the whole province of Ontario would be greatly improved if it just moved about 3 timezones to the west. I also have two brothers, two parents, and no pets. I'm currently trying to finish my bachelor's degree in Human Kinetics, though I'm not 100% sure what I'm going to do with it yet. I love dancing, swimming, playgrounds, reading, puzzles, anything that's midly amusing, and writing. Hence the blog.
I have no specific plans for this blog. Mostly I hope to use it to share funny stories from my day, though I can't promise that I'll completely avoid the occasional woe-is-me pity party post. Feel free to skip over those ones. Overally, I'll usually make fun of myself. As you may have guessed from the name of my blog, I am not the most coordinated person, and I have a tendency towards blonde moments. Sometimes I will also use this blog to make fun of my loved ones. Why? Because I can.
I also have no specific timeline for making posts. I hope to put something up several times a week. That said, I tend to keep myself extremely busy, so sometimes my posting may become quite sporadic. Deal with it.
I'm assuming that very few people will actually read this blog, so I'll stop there. If anyone does have questions, feel free to contact me. Or just make something up in your head, it'll probably be more interesting anyways.
Love,
Danielle
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