Some days you just don't want to read my mind

I have a few things I could say, but I've chosen to be adult enough not to.

Um... except in texts to the Toronto office. Sorry about that, Toronto office. It was either that or cut off a random finger.

Possibly one of mine; possibly someone else's.

So, here we (all of us, yes) sit with a buggered-up knee and no voice. Two very NOT desirable things when you're working at a nature centre. The knee... well, my two fans know all about that already. Old injury that gets unhappy from time to time. Yesterday? Very, very unhappy. You might have noticed.

The voice, though, is not an old injury. The voice disappeared somewhere over at the pond this morning. Pond study, reasonably high winds, and the remnants of a cold have all led to enforced whispering.

Not an easy thing for someone like me.

You see, I'm good at being loud. It's a combination of classical voice training growing up and a number of years of yelling at school children out on the path at work. I carry well. Very well. Too well, apparently, because on those days (like today) when I suddenly find myself unable to be heard I'm at a bit of a loss as to what I should do.

It's weird to not be able to get anyone's attention.

Maybe I should get a stick.






You know, that would kill two birds with one stone...

Erm, anyway. So here I sit. Quietly.

Part of the problem with being quiet is that it takes away one of my big defences. I've mentioned it a time or two, (maybe on the old blog? Well, you can go look it up there if you're curious, I suppose), but I'm a fairly shy person. Strange to be doing this particular job when you're shy, but then I think if you really looked at the people around you you'd find more shy people than you might realise at first.

Hmmm. I know I've said that before.

Carrying on, then.

Ha. Carry. I can't carry at the moment, did I tell you?

One of the ways I deal with being shy and still being involved with the public is through loudness. It's classic overcompensation. If I'm uncomfortable with where I am or what I'm doing, I get louder. And... more sarcastic. My sense of humour does tend to the snarkier side of life, I'll admit, and it gets more exaggerated when I'm trying to hide behind myself (and that, boys and girls, takes quite the series of contortions).

Being loud is kind of like a preemptive military strike, I suppose. Make yourself as noticeable as possible as quickly as you can, and maybe no one will see that you'd really rather crawl into a hole.

Now I have no choice but the hole, I guess.

Wheat came into the office a little while ago for something and I informed him (in a whisper) that my voice had left for the day. He whispered back. Isn't it funny how we all just naturally echo the way someone communicates with us? It's practically a reflex.

Anyway (and yes, I know that I already said anyway. And shut up, world. If I have to, you have to), I'm just thankful that I've officially finished (with what little voice I had left) my last school program of the season. It's been a busy year and a long one, and it's about time I had a few months off from that particular aspect of my working life.

Speaking (or typing. Can't talk. Did I mention?) of off, I will be for a couple of days. That means I won't be around a computer for at least tomorrow and maybe the next day. And that, in turn, puts the Toronto office back on blather call.

Poor Toronto office. First texts and now this. I'm so demanding when I'm in a snit.