Come 5am, I feel some insane cramping. I couldn't take ibuprofen, so I got myself a hot water bottle in the meantime, then, I think, a paracetamol pill. A hot water bottle, burning hot, on a summer day. What's that logic, seriously. Not only that, but I had to run a little errand at lunchtime: I noticed a bit too late that I definitely would not have enough pads to last for my whole period.
Came across Austral: told her that something happened that I didn't have time to talk about yet, but we agreed to discuss it later. She's taking snack bar salads: probably busy as can be. I came across none of the others. Not even Hopoe. In fact, I haven't seen Hopoe since the recital. Kind of wish I had Austral's number as to keep in touch better, but I feel we aren't yet close enough for that. I'm so damn prudish about asking people for their number, even as some find it normal: for me it's a sign of closeness, if it's not purely professional like with Capella and Hera, whose contact info I have. If I let you into my phone, it's a big one for me... but if you don't want me in yours, it will hurt. Terribly. So I don't ask. Even as I wish I could chat.
In the morning though, I wrote a whole ass piece of literature to describe how things had gone yesterday. I wanted it to be as precise as possible. Capella read it: she loves how I write, and feels like she's quite literally there, in that classroom in front of the jury. I've often been told how immersive my writing is, and that's not for lack of practice. I want the reader to see exactly what I see in my mind, even if they may have a different kind of imagination.
Hera was pleased. About the part where I mentioned that I wouldn't take a finance job, she said that she would've thought I was honest. Jury members are individuals so their opinion could differ, but... for sure, some would think the same.
Sad thing though, Capella won't be here until Monday. During lunchtime she learned her eldest daughter was sick and took her to the doctor. She'll have to care for her, since she has no partner to take on this role (and doesn't want a man in her life anymore, understandably, after two toxic relationships back to back).
***
There's something I've been doing since I was young. I did it a few times over the course of my life, and I did it again yesterday and today: recording conversations. It seems to be a family thing as my late grandfather (maternal) had a mini tape recorder that he'd turn on and put in his shirt pocket during dinners. I never knew him: he passed in a car accident in the late 80s, even before my brother was born. My mom never quite got over his death. She was younger than me when she lost him. Wish I did though.
He was the kind of person to isolate himself all day in his garage working on his cars, not say much but show quite a lot through how he acted, get overwhelmed during parties but still be sort of sociable, and... yeah. It seems that we both have this thing of loving to preserve moments. He also enjoyed taking lightning bolt pictures and those were a pain in the ass to shoot.
I know it might be controversial, but I love just putting my phone there, pressing the record button on the voice recorder, and let it happen, unscripted, natural conversations, audio landscapes to listen to later. For five, seven, twenty minutes, just a conversation. And I've been doing so because Esme is going soon. It sounds pretty weird, but I don't want her to be just an abstract memory in my mind.
***
The idea came to me when she was singing after a repetition for July 14. I didn't know why... but I wanted to have this on a recording. Singing Esme. You don't just hear her faintly: you also hear Theodora, might be Capella at times in here too. Perhaps one of the reservists, or other colleagues. You obviously hear me, too. On the singing recording, you can hear me attempting to do harmonies but having no idea how to.
And then, it was recording our playful back-and-forths, whether it's between her and me or us with colleagues. The banter. Esme just making a fuss about stuff and us having a circular conversation about something that she very obviously keeps denying or affirming just out of pure stubbornness. Things that I will dearly miss when she's gone.
Nobody knows, and nobody should know. I know full well it's a tad borderline, that she probably wouldn't like it, in fact, even my mom didn't like it when her father would record. But that's for myself. For my own enjoyment, and my own nostalgia, and maybe, like when I was a kid, have some fun with it by editing or distorting the audio.
Because yes, when I was younger, about ten years old, I recorded myself and my friends (mostly my then bestie's brother saying things in a burp) and would then speed it up on Audacity. Sometimes they were aware of it, sometimes not. As a teen, I did the same a handful of times, recording conversations with friends, and reliving them many years later. Sadly, I lost all of these. I have even recorded my cats' voices. I just don't want voices to die. And I wish I had recorded Hopoe (though obviously not at the recital, but in our golden age... or if we had any chance to get together outside of work, I definitely would've had the idea at some point).
***
Now I'm thinking perhaps of recording next time I go to lunch with the team. Have a chance to do so. But I literally never keep my phone on the table. It's always in my bag, or in a pocket. The sound will probably suck. Other option is that I take one of those phone carriers and have it on my person, but again, that wouldn't be very usual of me. In the old times where I was working in the other building, Steph always wanted me to have my phone on me because "just in case". Literally everyone seemed to be paranoid about something happening to me. But here? I'm two floors down. They're on the third floor, I'm on ground floor. Literally no reason to take the phone unless I have a reason.
I guess I'll find a way, eventually, to keep their voices in a file. If I'm lucky like last year, perhaps I could eat regularly with them in August. That'd be a reason to be back to the mess hall. Food is good there, but right now, as I said in another post... I'm feeling too fragile yet.
***
I'm still scared of the other shelf, by the way. I had to look for things inside and I was absolutely not daring to go anywhere in front of it. It's nowhere near as dangerous as the one that fell on me and Theodora, but... I can't help but think this one is going to fall, too. One bit of light that moves, one shadow that moves, and my startle response fires. Then I can't stop looking over my shoulder as I work. I just wait for it to crash down. It probably won't. But I'm bracing.
And this time, I just don't want to be stuck under.
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