Freudian Sleep

At first mention I was pretty sure I had Penis Envy, then I thought maybe I didn’t…after much thought….I have no idea.

I had just finished my coffee and was waste deep in the raging waters of that two hours of the morning that see me accomplish 75% of my output for any particular work day. In a swirling whirl-pool of action I burst into a coworkers office to gain answers to questions that I wasn’t able to deduce of my own jittery accord:

Travis: Hey, can you tell me which union one of my employees works for?
Coworker: Sure, what’s the employees’ name?
Travis: Beth Templeton.
Coworker: Beth works for the Provincial Employees Union.
Travis: Does your computer system tell you what job classification she is?
Coworker: Yep, says right here she’s an Administrative Assistant.
Travis: I’m trying to Budget Projects for next fiscal year, do you have her salary information?
Coworker: Beth is currently making $15.00 per hour.
Travis: That’s weird, my files show a different….I dreamt you and I had sex last night.

If I wasn’t full to the brim with Tim Horton’s finest the next five minutes may have been awkward. Luckily, I was so hopped up on the fiendish brew that I was able to pause and survey the hysterical office staff as if they were the ones exhibiting the odd behaviour. After what seemed like a lifetime of cackling I produced a genuine, “What?”, then returned to my desk and worked off the remnants of my caffeine bender.

I began to consider the previous conversation as (ironically) it approached the actual portion of the day designated as the first of two coffee “times”. Coffee is one of those functions important enough to have a small part of the day permanently apportioned to its purpose. That places coffee in a genre similar to that of all three meals, tea (coffees useless British brother), and bed. I personally feel quite strongly that some other daily functions are deserving of that designation. Namely “gym”, “sex”, and “deuce”. I’ll understand if some of you can’t relate to the appeal of a routine Gymtime, but you can’t deny that you would smile in the morning at the thought of your impending daily Sextime and Deucetime. Imagine the satisfaction you could take in demanding your wife proceed directly to the bedroom because it’s way passed your sextime.

I considered this as I drank another cup of coffee that I really didn’t need. I replayed the conversation in my head. I wasn’t pained by the notion that I’d had this particular dream. Dreams are perfectly involuntary and if my brain wants me to dream about dancing a waltz in an undersized pair of tighty-whities with David Hasselhoff, there isn’t much I can do about it. I did; however, remain increasingly intrigued by the reaction of the staff members which led me to become curious as to the meaning of dreams in general. I love the Internet.

There once was a man named Sigmund Freud. According to Freud almost everyone is “doing it” in dreamland. Think about that next time you hug your grandma. I’ll presume that since nearly everyone can relate to some minor degree of nocturnal promiscuity, that no reader shall lean back and shake their judgment finger at the screen as they read. According to the good doctor each of you (at some point) has dreamt of spending time with the cute pool-boy, the delicious baker, or the power wielding Queen Mother of England (..what).

Now Sigmund, while a brilliant psychiatric doctor having studied extensively in the areas of the human psyche, it seems was also a bit of an eccentric degenerate (aka. A dirty old man). Freud studied and documented the areas of human interpretation and specifically investigated the meaning of the following symbols (above others) within sexual dreams: Aerosol Cans, Cannons, Fishing Poles, Fountains, French Bread, Golf Clubs, Gophers, Knives, Lances, Laser Beams, Moles, Pistols, Revolvers, Rockets, Snakes, Spears, Swords, Tall Buildings, Telescopes, Tractors, Woodchucks, Wrenches and Zippers.

I’ve thought a lot about these symbols. I can understand how an investigation concerning sexual dreams may invariably lead to a tiny footnote regarding Fountains, Fishing Poles, Laser Beams, Rockets, and Tall Buildings (especially in my case). I would feel pretty bad about myself if I were regularly demonstrating sexual dreams that required I employ a telescope. If I were having sleeping-sexcapades often enough I suppose it’s only a matter of time before I found myself mixed up in a late night rodent-orgy with a voluptuous Gopher and a handsome Woodchuck (you could toss an outgoing Mole in their if the Gopher is open-minded). Try as I may I simply can’t relate sexually to the likes of Wrenches, French Bread, or Aerosol Cans. No particular instrument that which Freud had examined was used in my own nocturnal romp, subsequently, none of this was any help.

Upon more reading I did discover that sexual dreams are not about sex exclusively. Often they are about how we perceive people and how we think others are perceiving us. Since this was really the only bit of Freud’s research that afforded me a non-creepy explanation, I’ve adopted it. It seems my co-worker and I perceive eachother enthusiastically, which is nice.

I thought no more on it until a completely unrelated conversation with the very same co-worker took me by the hand and led me directly back to the comfort of Freud’s sofa:

Travis: I approved a staff member for a cell phone today and they asked if they could have a Motorola Razor.
Coworker: Why are you telling me this?
Travis: Because. I explained that they would get the standard cell phone we issue to everyone.
Coworker: Wow, that’s amazing.
Travis: A discussion ensued and I tried to explain about the dangers of setting a precedent.
Coworker: Still quite uninterested.
Travis: A staff member will see another staff members’ new phone, then begin to deduce that they have the same requirements for similar equipment.
Coworker: Mind if I sleep?
Travis: I read an article on it once, there’s even a name for it. “Equipment Envy”. You think that’s like “Penis Envy”?
Coworker: This conversation has officially become worth my while.
Travis: I think I have Penis Envy, no I don’t.
Coworker: Officially.
Travis: Is it possible for me to have Penis Envy? What’s Penis Envy?
Coworker: I think girls get it.
Travis: Is PMS short for Penis Envy?
Coworker: uhh, No.
Travis: If you need me I’ll be on the Internet.

Luckily, I had bookmarked the website.

Penis Envy in Freudian psychoanalysis typically refers to, in layman’s terms, women who are put out by their not having a penis. There are many wondrous things in this good world that I do not understand, and this qualifies as one of them. Women have many other perfectly satisfying appendages…and I am certain my trousers contain no measure of relevant jealousy. The website did not have an example of said envy; however, I’m compelled to picture the highly successful power CEO who thrives on the opportunity to dismiss underachieving male executives. According to Freud, the parallel reaction in boys to the realisation that girls do not have a penis is Castration anxiety. Again I am lost. I, for one, would be much more anxious if during puberty I were to discover that women have a penis.

The term is also sometimes used inexactly or metaphorically to refer to anxieties between men about the size of their genitals (making my earlier deduction about the condition reasonable). This doesn’t begin to clear up the issue, but it certainly opens the door for a wealth of interesting soul searching. This second definition gave me pause and yet had me wonder if, indeed, I did have a tiny (excuse the pun) case of the envies. Until now I had been quite happy with my own Tall Building. While I probably wouldn’t refer to it as the Empire State Building, it most certainly wasn’t a Garden Shed either. Generally I am quite satisfied with that which my maker has provided.

Even had I been presented the opportunity to specify the dimensions of my own person, I’m not sure that would have worked so well. Having been handed pen and paper I’d quickly discern that the only reasonable drawings of anything that I have ever been able to produce were that of rickety stick men. I am positive the likes of a stick penis would inevitably lead to more disappointments than my current caricature, cartoonesque in its comedy as it were.

Secret Sub Office Friend

Anonymous Blog Readers…

I have had a hellish week, and I am trying desperately to complete a ‘Chronicle’ post for this Friday, however, I may fall prey to a South American militant hostage taking scenario that might preclude my ability to type properly.

Strictly as a contingency, I’m posting the details of a “Secret Santa” type event I was asked to organize for our office location (they probably should have known better)…

Hello Office…Disconcertingly for you, I have been charged with developing the framework for the 1st Annual Kindersley “Secret Sub” Office extravaganza. I can honestly say that our Sub Office houses the finest workmates around (at least on the 100 block of 1st Avenue East Kindersley). There always seems to be someone available to assist whether you require a helping hand, a good laugh, or even a car boost because you left your lights on. Even with a routinely high level of office moral; we’ve decided to adopt this tiny little love-fest as our pledge to an improved Quality of Workplace.The idea here (and correct me if I’m wrong) is to use your anonymity in order to place your “Secret Sub” in a state of utter glee as often as possible. This, in turn, will allow them attain a level of work productivity that (until now) could only be accomplished by Gloria. Staff feel better, get more done, and everyone’s the healthier for it.

I have solicited absolutely zero feedback from anyone, and you’re all fully aware that I’ll be completely senile prior to my fiftieth birthday. So if you have any input, please feel free to reply back with your thoughts that I may promptly refuse your request.Duration: February 14, 2007 through February 14, 2008. I made the duration the entirety of one year so that we may catch each individuals birthday once. Thank-you Ella for clarifying when Valentine’s day is. Thank you Amanda for simultaneously implying the cause of my marriages implosion.Rules:
1) I will use a high-tech method (hat/paper) to determine the “SS” pairings and send that information to each individual in a forthcoming email today.
2) Predetermined special days warrant an appropriate token of appreciation (Valentine’s Day, Easter, St. Patrick’s Day, Mothers Day [if appropriate], Halloween). This is by no means a comprehensive list, feel free to expand. If you feel compelled to spend money, try to stick to a $5.00 limit.
3) I thought as a guideline once a month (if a holiday from above does not fall within that month) we could produce an unexpected token of appreciation. The $5.00 rule applies.
4) Your “SS” will also be your Christmas Secret Santa. Our usual gift limit of $15.00 will apply.
5) You will be charge with acknowledging your “SS” birthday. The $5.00 rule applies. The onus will be placed squarely on you to ensure you have the correct day. Determining the individuals actual birthday is a matter of discretion. Do not build a cake, that will be handled through a different initiative.
6) Leave your “SS” periodic inspirational notes. For example, how much you enjoy working together, or admire her professional competence, or appreciate his contributions to the organization; or, perhaps, simply send a Valentine’s card in September with a note that you just couldn’t wait until February.
7) Spoil your “Secret Sub” in other ways throughout the course of the year while using the following methods: Poetry, Trinkets, Treats, Cards, Art, Faxes or Tim Horton’s.
8) Some other optional ideas (depending on your level of comfort) for spoiling your “SS” throughout the course of the year include tidying their office, assisting in small work tasks (while preserving your anonymity), creating them a music CD, flowers from your garden, building them a craft, or knitting them a kerchief. Feel free to use your hobbies/interests as strengths, just be careful it doesn’t give you away.
9) When your “SS” is sick, you should find a way to help ease their pain and suffering (i.e. juice, drugs, Kleenex, ice cream pail, voodoo healing, whatever).

Obviously we’ll reveal the “SS” at the end of the year in some highly outlandish manner. Probably at coffee time over a good laugh.

This game will only be as good as we make it. Be creative and pay a good deal of attention to your “SS”. Getting to know your “SS” likes/dislikes is the key to ensuring you’re doing your part and improving their work lives. The game is as much (if not more) about giving than it is getting. I think with the group we have here we can make the Kindersley Sub Office a beacon of Quality Workplace within the Heartland Health Region.

Greek Salad Recipe

Sensual Blog Readers…

I have had a hellish week, and I am trying desperately to complete a ‘Chronicle’ post for this Friday, however, I may fall prey to a particularly violent strain of inflammatory disease that might preclude my ability to type properly.

Strictly as a contingency, I’m posting a recipe that I’ve recently provided to my (female) coworkers at their request (they probably should have known better)…

Hi Everyone….I had an inquiry for the recipe to my world famous Greek Salad. Now, I fully realize you ladies are just asking me this so you don’t have to invite me; however, I figure I’d be a good sport and type it up anyway.I’m not exactly sure what everyone’s cooking skill level is; so I’ve written this as if everyone were a lame-duck cook like me. Not the metaphorical lame duck either; an actual duck that’s lame, perhaps from eating something I’ve cooked…

Cucumber – If I am peeling them with a potato peeler – quantity 2. If I am peeling them with a pearing-knife – quantity 3…and a band-aid. I like Field Cucumbers better, but I’ve used Long English ones too. Oddly, I looked it up and they all grow in fields.
Pepper (s) – 1 each of Red, Yellow, and Green. They’re like rainbow vegetables. No one can say this salad isn’t pretty.
Black Olives – 1 can. If you’re at all prejudice you’re going to have to get over it; black ones are the only ones that work. There are green ones, but they’re much too inexperienced.
Fresh Mushrooms – 2 cups of the white ones. A friend has informed me that these grow in poo. I break off the stubs, peel them, and scrub them like mad. Then try not to think about it.
Cherry Tomatoes – 3 cups. I get a little excessive when it comes to Tomatoes, so if you’re feeding tomatophites feel free to tone it down a bit. You can use Field, Roma, Hot House, Garden, or any other manner of tomato goodness; however, in that case you should cut them and scoop out the runniness so the salad doesn’t become soggy and unhappy.
Feta Cheese – 1 small package. I never joke about cheese.
Purple Onion – 1/2. Imagine my surprise (and sadness) the first time I chopped one of these and promptly began bawling my eyes out.
Dressing – I usually just use oil and vinegar. Trendy beatniks use Balsamic Vinegar. I don’t usually put the dressing on the entire bowl since it causes leftovers to become moist like a nose hair after a sneeze.

Cooking Instructions:
Chop everything into chunks and chuck it in a large popcorn bowl. Mix it with a large spoon and try not to fling any onto the floor. If some does hit the floor, eat it within 5 seconds.

This makes enough to feed approximately eighty starving children.

You can now remove me from all your sexy party invitation mailing lists….*sigh*.