Mental note recovery: (meaning, I had this in mind last night and just forgot to blog about it as I collapsed upon getting home)
There’s this odd sense of belonging and joyous tiredness when I stroll along the very serene and quiet hallways of Two World Square past 11 in the evening. I, for one, am a person who
supports accepts insomnia as I condone wasting any of the 24 hours we are given each day. I thus interpret my bizarre late night I-feel-so-inspired feeling to be my way of telling myself:
Good job! The day is almost nearing its end. A sheet of your OC friend’s daily calendar will almost be torn. Your counterparts in the US are about to down that Chick-Fil-A burger for lunch. And, you’re still working. Good job.
Yes, I talk to myself that way–sometimes through singing about whatever I’m doing (ala Marshall Eriksen) and sometimes through almost complete yet usually incoherent sentences.
I almost never experience complete silence because I sing almost ALL the time. I actually get disturbed when my surroundings get too quiet. And that explains why I sit in my previous team’s area at times. There are cackles, side comments, hunger pangs, and TV series conversations 8/5 (hahaha did you get that?). Or if there is none, I’m pretty much free to start a conversation with Mark and Kiel about NBA, with Hans and Teners about Hans and Teners, with JC about Modern Family/Gossip Girl/How I Met Your Mother/Outsourced, or with JR and Aizel about our initiatives. Obviously, yours truly has received the honor/dishonor of being this team’s chatterbox.
I’m almost alone in my old team’s area right now as most of them are in the team meeting. I was asked by one of them to teach their new hire on how to call-in for a voice conference. Oh, how I love it. I love it when people ask me to talk or give me an opportunity to talk. I get tired of talking to myself sometimes.