Exhausting days

Heya,

There are people fighting in a street somewhere near my friend’s apartment (where I’m staying this weekend while I’m manning a booth for work at a festival). It’s fascinating. I’m only hearing parts of it, but some guy is very angry with some girl and there’s a cat involved somehow. It’s probably much less interesting in full than it is in pieces. It’s like Mad Libs–filling in the blanks is what makes it fun.

Today was an exhausting day. The last two days have been exhausting days. I got up at 6am on Friday. Maybe I told you this already. I have no idea, and it’s already late and I’m not going to check my last post for repetitions. I got up at 5am today, actually, and had an early morning panic attack because for some reason my friend’s clock is twelve hours off, so it was telling me that it was 5pm. I legit thought that I had slept all day. I woke up, saw the clock and went, “Shit, what time is it?!” And my friend half-woke up and looked at the clock and was briefly equally confused. Then she woke up enough to remember the vagaries of her own clock, and said, “It’s 5am, not pm.”

I dozed off and on for the next couple hours. This morning I spent a good chunk of time trying to figure out how to get my work done while in an area without wifi. Other volunteers were late. And I was just generally very anxious all day. There are too many people at the event I’m at. Too many conflicting noises. I don’t know why I’m being coy about the event that I’m working, I’m sure you don’t care and that, besides, that it would be easy enough to sort out if anyone felt like trying. I’m working a table at the Vancouver Folk Music Festival. My friend who lives in the city is helping me out and I’m staying at hers because I don’t live in the city, I live in the shifty suburbs.

People were late. I hate lateness. I get super stressed out when I am even five minutes late. I would rather not show up than show up ten minutes late. Lateness shows a disrespect for the other person’s time. During my undergrad, there was a girl who was chronically late, whose parents were professors at the university. None of the other professors ever called her on being late. And it pissed me off so much. How can you always be late? I mean, I understand once or twice, but she always came in to class at least fifteen minutes late. Drove me insane. Drove a lot of us insane.

Anyway, going back a bit, we were working at a booth at Folk Fest. I was a quasi-organizer. I was not told that we needed to bring our own tent/pavilion/thing and it was set to rain today. My friend had a tarp, and awesome Boy Scouts tarp skills, which were put to good use. At some point some other volunteers took over and I, suffering from sensory overload, left with my friend to get dinner in a place with fewer people and conflicting sounds. We went to a Greek restaurant. When we came back to help the other volunteers pack up, we sorted shit out and they left. And I realized, after they were gone that my cell phone was nowhere to be found.

Earlier that day I had watched another person’s booth while they tried to find their keys. I felt what they probably felt looking for those keys. Like the bottom had dropped out of my stomach. Angry and freaked out and tense all at once. I’ve come to the conclusion that I would rather lose my wallet than my phone. I can cancel my credit cards, I can get new ID, all for less than it costs to get a new phone. It turned out that one of the volunteers had picked it up at some point and put it in her bag so that it wouldn’t be out on the table where anyone might grab it, and had forgotten to give it back to me. I got it, we left the festival, all good.

Except that I am so damn tired, and I still have shit to do. Among them this blog post, which I know I’m not going to have time to write during the daylight hours tomorrow. So … hi.

Do you find people exhausting? I do. I feel really bad for my friend, because with the phone fiasco and my general too-many-people anxiety, I think she spent most of the day trying to keep me calm. Which, I know from experience, is an exhausting job to undertake.

Love,

B

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