Same thing occured to me two days ago. Then I whipped out my iPhone and entered a list of things I've done. Well most of them involved the computer. So yeah. You don't notice time passing since you don't actually move. Just sitting and interacting with information.
Just had a massive flood and spent the whole day cleaning up mess, and lifting heavy wet objects. That's pretty real I suppose and I'm going to do it again today yayyyy dry. But what made it all better was later on in the evening I was outside relaxing and I looked up to see a orange full moon, amongst the setting sun and the colors of the sky and clouds were mixing to become pink and blue, looking like cotton kind. That was the unreal portion of my day yesterday.
Its my second day at work from coming home from vacation/ holiday on Sunday. I went to work on the bus (because I have no desire to drive) and I go into the call centre across the busy street in the industrial estate - truly a place of wonder and beauty far surpassing even the splendor of the stars and the planets themselves. I get in to the sterile environment I call my work, I have small talk when I don't want to, I drag myself in to where I am a lackey on a leash a human substitute for a chicken, robot or monkey not yet fully trained for the role. I like my colleagues are looked down on as mindless drones, the ever watching eyes of the management brew comtempt for us - the ones who bring in the immediate income and bring in the sales despite the strangling inflexibility we have to sell with to our customers. They wait for us to slip up or to mess around - they can't by definition leave us to our own devices or to trust us to do it correct as the truely reliable and independent don't need to be supervised and thus don't need the supervisors to supervise them. So they micromanage, staving off the prospect that they are a mere burden and an irrelevant gear in the bureaucratic machine and they bark and demand we achieve our stats - absolutely vital figures pulled from oblivion and completely ignorant of the bigger picture that whether it is achieved is most likely down to bigger social and economic factors in the targeted demographic than how charming or miserable we may be on the phone. The company claim that to achieve my stats for long enough will get me a pay rise (which I don't care for) yet never say for how long to do so. I am a yes man yet I secretely rebel, when they stop watching me I do my job my way, within safe guidelines of course.
The day dragged on, I face the brunt of everything that is thrown at me. I am accused of being a liar, a thief and an idiot amongst other things. I wish I didn't need to explain ad infintum the basics and I wish every complaining person saw me as a mere powerless employee or pawn and not an avatar of the company and treated me as such. I have a twisted enjoyment of the job - its not particularly hard, the office seem to like me and it feels perhaps even recession proof. However I also hate it - its long hours for little money, completely unfulfilling and I constantly fear losing my job. I think of whether I could become a doctor, a teacher, a scientist, a psychologist, a philosophy or a traveller. I sat there and planned ideas, even considered posting a question on here tonight for how to leave my comfort zone which I haven't done.
I pretend to be someone else to my colleagues, one keeps nagging me to go out on Friday to get drunk with him, which I don't want to do as drinking for me is overrated (he says seeing me drunk is funny) others talk to me about issues I care nothing about. My friend at work I used to be in love with / heavily infuated with passes me by has recently seemed to be a bit embarassed around me for hopefully minor reasons. I on occasion see myself as a rebel against the system, exploiting loopholes to help the customers out without my company realising - I think if they ever found out that I don't have an us vs them mentality of the customers as a mindless, faceless horde out to scheme and exploit our services without mercy then they would come at me and I wouldn't have an excuse to explain my actions.
In breaks, it rains and I can't go to the nearby woods to relax. It rains heavily as I came home an hour ago, everyone thinks I am unfortunate to have got wet yet I enjoyed every second of it really.
Now I am here, writing as if the day was an epic and unparalled tragedy when it is mediocre and the standard tale across the world. Now I try and make my life better as I do every evening, yet never get really anywhere when doing it. Shame really.
My day was entirely real, except for one moment where I felt slightly left out and pretended not to, and the other moments where I was imagining what it would feel like to die suddenly, where instead of being in the moment, I was imagining my parents taking back my Christmas presents and planning out a funeral. I was actually sitting there sewing some shoes, but I wasn't really there. I was thinking up what might cause the death. I decided it would be something to do with my heart, maybe because of my gum disease, since I've heard that happens.
Then I stopped thinking about that, and tried to imagine what the cow was like before it was a coat that ended up at the Goodwill bins, and tried to get in touch with the feeling of it being a warm living thing. I tried to feel any of the cow-ness that might be left, and was sad that someone would kill it. It felt strange to be touching it, using it, turning it into something else as though it hadn't been a someone before it became a dead something. Then I started thinking about leather in a more general sense, and the fact of not being able to buy it new because of the idea bothering me too much, and whether waste was worse than possibly setting a wrong example.
So, I zoned out briefly into random land, but even that was real except for the part where I imagined having my dead body discovered in the sewing room.
Well, my day just started. What feels real? It's cold here today in the library. I'm typing with fingerless gloves on my hands, which makes it a little less accurate and a little more difficult.
I opened my email. Sigh, just a bunch of junk mail and no response from the person I still consider to be my best friend in the world. I had written him of my desire to go back to grad school and study historic preservation, and had asked him to please give me his opinion and write me a letter of recommendation. But of course no answer, even though I had just written him on Sunday. He doesn't write me often anymore and I don't entirely know why. Perhaps he's sick of hearing about my neverending problems from which I probably cannot extricate myself. Maybe he's freaked because he's an architect, and hearing that I want to go into a related field is somehow threatening. Architecture was the elephant in the room that I never felt free to discuss with him...he was too brilliant, and I was always too intimidated. I decided not to share my decision with him until I felt really sure. Now I wonder if I shouldn't have shared the decision process with him.
The loneliness and the possible loss of this friend, that feels searingly real.
Made something of a realization that is making my head spin and that is the most real thing I have experienced or felt today. Or in the last few days to be fair. An idea... a concept, a mental image is more real to me than the things which I have understood with the rest of my senses for quite a while. I rather like it.
I went to work and sat inside for most of the day... attempted to make the hours go by by writing down some thoughts on paper... this led to nothing but a list of dumb stuff that was a meager attempt to connect with my thoughts. I ended up throwing it all away because it read like an instruction manuel and not like a reflection of what I feel. All of this non-realness was then shattered when I went to see my husband and we finally decided we would get a divorce. My world then became very real and I actually felt sadness and cried for the first time in weeks (which is odd considering I moved out of the house and on my own a few weeks ago). I then slipped back into my coping stage where I felt very little and was numb. The unrealness continues and I'm eating dinner and thinking of walking down the street to buy beer and get drunk... by myself. I suppose this is an attempt to let the alcohol release my thoughts and let me feel again. Let me be real again.