Pazuzu, the Little Devil
by The Misfit on January 8th, 2012
filed under misfit musings, The Pseudo Academic
It’s funny (and not the ha-ha kind) that whenever I’m pulling these outages I start out rolling along quite nicely – my mood is good, I’m generally happy considering I’m pulling 72-75 hours a week on night shift which means I don’t see the sun for months on end and the thought of a social life is one that I have to rudely shove aside.
Have one little meltdown, however, and the rest of my world goes to absolute crap.
I have a list of songs I listen to whenever I get stressed out – the main one being “Born of Frustration,” the first track on James’ album Seven. I suppose now would be a good time to point out that my favorite line from the song is, “don’t need a shrink, but an exorcist.”
I’ve long joked about needing an exorcist – Lord knows I do things that scream absolute stupidity drama queen potential possession by demonic forces. Especially when I’m frustrated or bored or simply want to curl up next to him and just exist which is always an impossibility on a good day never mind during an outage. And when I go to my closest friends for the usual therapy session brought about by my having done something that invariably results in the unintended, they’ll sometimes look at me askance as if to say, “What in the hell possessed you to think that was a good idea?”
After the weekend of the unintended that’s resulted in a hibernation I don’t want but desperately need, I’ve come to the conclusion that I should probably re-read William Peter Blatty’s The Exorcist sometime soon.
I’ve read The Exorcist a million times. And seen the movie just as many. Sure I joke about hurling pea soup and giving birth to the anti-christ (which isn’t exactly possession per se, nor does it have anything to do with The Exorcist) but it’s one of those books that seriously creeps me out every time I read it. We live in a day and age of rational thought where science and medicine are purported to have the answer for everything – take a pill to cure what ails you. But what if…what if neither science nor medicine could provide the answers? What if demonic possession actually existed and the only cure lay in a ritual that rational people constantly debunk as, well, bunk? What if you were an atheist and were left grabbing at straws to cure your daughter because science and medicine didn’t have the answers?
What would you do?
Would you spend precious time dragging her from doctor to doctor? Would you load her full of pills and medicines even when they obviously didn’t work? Would you subject her to every invasive test possible that leave her sobbing and begging for help?
And would you, like Chris MacNeil, find it easier to believe that the devil exists but not God?
With at least 5 more weeks of this outage I’m beginning to wonder about that myself.
It’s Taken 34 Days…
by The Misfit on January 1st, 2012
filed under the misfit
But I have finally reached meltdown.
The good news: I beat last outage’s 3-week record by two weeks.
The bad news: I still have at least another month to three months of the outage. And I can’t call in sick because we have a skeleton crew tonight and I need to be there.
Plus, I need the money.
*sigh*
I’m taking a break from my normally upbeat attitude to say: I really hate my life today.
The Downside of Working Nights
by The Misfit on December 22nd, 2011
filed under the misfit
I woke up this afternoon to a scrawled not from my dad that a friend had called.
Normally, I wouldn’t bat an eye at this. Most of my friends know I’m working nights and know not to expect to be able to get hold of me and won’t be put out if I don’t call back for a while.
Only this is a friend I affectionately refer to as “slaveboy” (don’t ask me how *that* started, but it’s been his nickname for years) who lives in Germany and who I only get to talk to once or twice a year if I’m lucky. He’s married, has a lovely wife and two darling little girls, and we’ve been friends for over 20 years.
So… missed phone calls. Check.
I’ve also hit the stage where I’m feeling unhealthy. As much as I detest the sun, it does provide me with much needed vitamins and no matter how many vitamin D supplements I take, it’s not the same thing.
Feeling unhealthy. Check.
Add to that an utter inability to stay away from the holiday treats co-workers bring in; wonderful sugar-laden treats that I normally don’t eat but can’t seem to stop ingesting when cooped up in a conference room, sitting on my ass, trying to stay awake. The sugar doesn’t even help me stay awake.
Unintentional and so unneeded weight gain. Check.
I’ve started drinking regular coffee, too, as a way to keep myself going. I’m up to three cups a night and the boost it gave me over the first week or two is no longer a boost. It’s a gateway for much stronger sources of caffeine, I’m afraid, but so far I’ve been able to avoid all temptation to start downing red bull on the hour.
Constant exhaustion. Check.
Oh… and I don’t get to go to Christmas Eve service with my family (because I’ll be working) which also means I don’t get to see the one person I love to see over Christmas.
Screwed up schedule. Check.
I do, however, get to spend Christmas Day with my family, although most of it will be spent sleeping while they cook and catch up. The good part is that they have to wait for me to wake up before opening presents.
Inadvertently being the person everyone has to wait for. Check.
I know there are only a couple of months of this. And I know I have great, wonderful, fantastic plans for when the craziness ends, but having to miss the usual things I do over the holidays really kind of stinks. And staying motivated isn’t always the easiest thing when I’m sleep deprived and feeling unhealthy and fat and just plain gross.
Which reminds me… it’s shower time.
If I don’t get a chance to update between now and then, everyone have a fantastic Christmas. And to all my Jewish friends, Happy Channukah!
Feelin’ The Love
by The Misfit on December 17th, 2011
filed under the misfit
I’m sorry for the lack of updates.
I’ve been working crazy hours for the past (nearly) 3 weeks and absolute nothing has gone on.
No silliness from work unless you count my suggestion to bring in Twister to give us something to do – which was voted down. Or my decision to name the night shift team room Gilligan’s Island, which, sadly, has provided no laughs whatsoever.
It has been slow. Like watching paint dry.
No joke.
This is the slowest outage I have ever worked.
I have been working to change my attitude about it. Normally by this time I’m ready to have my first meltdown, but thankfully that is nowhere in sight.
I did kinda sorta have a meltdown last Sunday – the kind where I was on the verge of tears with my throat feeling all sorts of tight with me, as I was driving to work, choking out, “Now is NOT a good time!”
But it was wholly unrelated to work and therefore I don’t count it as a work-related meltdown. Seems I’m going to pass my record of 3 weeks for that.
It’s hard to deal with real life stuff when your schedule is all sorts of screwed up.
I have, however, started doing two things:
1 – started a daily mantra that goes a little something like this: “I want to be healed, so I forgive [insert name here] and lift him up to the Holy Spirit.” It’s not that this person has done anything wrong or has anything to feel guilty about, it’s all about remembering the crap that he’s going through, too, and accepting the one thing that actually matters – that I love him. Everything else is pure bullshit and doesn’t really matter in the larger scheme of things. It’s also about not controlling things or holding on to them so tightly. Because that just makes me crazy and propels me to do stupid crap and frankly I’ve had just about enough of that. Continuing to do things (or not) out of fear is no way to live. I’ve had just about enough of that crap, too.
and
2 – asking for miracles. I’m not a huge church person – I go sometimes when I have time (which now I don’t). I have friends I love dearly who are involved in the church. My parents are involved in their church as is my brother. I’m not. BUT I do believe in God and I do believe that nothing is too big or too small to ask for help with, especially when I’ve done my best to make a mess of them. The funny thing is that I’m beginning to see miracles more often than not now. And it’s not about getting what I want – it’s about getting what I need. It’s about healing and finally seeing things from a different perspective and allowing myself to focus on what’s important (love) rather than what’s not (fear). That love is not contingent on other people. Either you love someone or you don’t. Their reaction is their business and has nothing to do with how *I* feel. In retrospect, it’s really shitty to place contingencies on loving other people.
That’s not to say I’ve got it perfected. I still have my moments of despair and heartache and fear and impatience.
But I’m trying. So I say my mantra and ask for miracles daily in an effort to stave off learned behavior.
Because that’s all fear is. We learn how to be afraid. We’re taught each time we love someone and they don’t love us back or they hurt us (intentionally or not) or stab us in the back or commit any other kind of human foible that gets our defenses up. We’re told to move on or get revenge or that it doesn’t matter. We’re told to “suck it up, Sunshine” and act like an adult.
Sometimes I think adults have it wrong because, seriously, where’s the love in all of that?
Can I tell you a secret, just between you and me?
The best miracle I’ve had so far is the realization that I can still love – that I can still *feel* it – despite the many scars that have built up over the years. That I can cry out of joy and love just as easily as I can out of fear and frustration and that I have a choice as to which one I go with.
That, my friends, is the biggest miracle of all.
New eBook Release
by The Misfit on December 4th, 2011
filed under misfit writing
Who doesn’t know about Rasputin, the crazy clairvoyant and mystic of the Russian Royal Family fame?
Much less known is Iliodor, the monk who befriended Rasputin and who eventually became his arch-nemisis. Way back in 1918, after he had emigrated to the United States, Iliodor wrote his memoirs / autobiography and I have lovingly compiled the book into an eBook and released it for sale. As of right now, it is only on Amazon, but I am working on making it available on Barnes and Noble, as well.
So, without further adieu, I give you The Mad Monk of Russia, Iliodor: Life, Memoirs, and Confessions of Sergei Michailovich Trufanoff.
