Citrakāyaḥ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
citrakayah) wrote2020-09-22 11:08 pm
citrakayah) wrote2020-09-22 11:08 pm
Entry tags:
Small Annoyances
The job I've got pays well. It's pretty decent all things considered. But.
It's all inside; where I work there are almost no windows and it's under fluorescent lightning. I'm isolated from the weather; even in thunderstorms I'm lucky to hear them over the chirping and banging of the HVAC system--which booms many times a week, startling me out of my skin. I'm disconnected from the plant and animal life. There are many potted plants in the hallways, but it's simply not the same. And, well, it's kind of shitty as far as exercise goes.
And I liked working outside. When I was in the Northeast, I got caught in thunderstorms--but that gave me a thrill. Sure, it was occasionally annoying, but only mildly. It wasn't as if I was in real danger from getting soaked; the only time I minded was when there was a major squall and it was really cold so I was sprayed with cold seawater for the entire time.
Even if it hadn't given me a thrill, seeing the horseshoe crabs, and the hermit crabs, and the birds, and the sunsets over the bay, would have made it more than worth it. But there's not so much nature around here. Oh, there's some--monarch butterfly caterpillars, woodpeckers, the neighborhood owl, robins and rabbits and squirrels and blue jays. Flies and beetles and wasps swarming the boneset. But there's less of it, and I spend most of the day isolated from it. It doesn't ground me like it did when working in the field.
The notion that you can feel more like yourself is, I suppose, by nature a false one. However you feel, that is what you are. If you feel like an emotionally numb worker staring at your email inbox, that is what you are. But the parts of me that I like the most and made me feel like the self I identify as were most present when working in the field.
Makes sense, I suppose. My view of myself is wrapped up in wilderness and wildness; working inside for long periods was never going to be too good for me.
It's all inside; where I work there are almost no windows and it's under fluorescent lightning. I'm isolated from the weather; even in thunderstorms I'm lucky to hear them over the chirping and banging of the HVAC system--which booms many times a week, startling me out of my skin. I'm disconnected from the plant and animal life. There are many potted plants in the hallways, but it's simply not the same. And, well, it's kind of shitty as far as exercise goes.
And I liked working outside. When I was in the Northeast, I got caught in thunderstorms--but that gave me a thrill. Sure, it was occasionally annoying, but only mildly. It wasn't as if I was in real danger from getting soaked; the only time I minded was when there was a major squall and it was really cold so I was sprayed with cold seawater for the entire time.
Even if it hadn't given me a thrill, seeing the horseshoe crabs, and the hermit crabs, and the birds, and the sunsets over the bay, would have made it more than worth it. But there's not so much nature around here. Oh, there's some--monarch butterfly caterpillars, woodpeckers, the neighborhood owl, robins and rabbits and squirrels and blue jays. Flies and beetles and wasps swarming the boneset. But there's less of it, and I spend most of the day isolated from it. It doesn't ground me like it did when working in the field.
The notion that you can feel more like yourself is, I suppose, by nature a false one. However you feel, that is what you are. If you feel like an emotionally numb worker staring at your email inbox, that is what you are. But the parts of me that I like the most and made me feel like the self I identify as were most present when working in the field.
Makes sense, I suppose. My view of myself is wrapped up in wilderness and wildness; working inside for long periods was never going to be too good for me.