9am and on. End of business year and its amazing consequences. Camera disconnected, microphone temporarily disabled, trying to focus in the chatter, trying to make sense of whichever mode of planning people assume to be the truth of the day. Experiencing the troubles of staying calm and open when communication gets to be unreasonably demanding and rough. (More coffee.)
Moving in on 4pm again. Lost track of time somewhere in the midst of very old code and its missing documentation. As most of the time, what happens in itself is an enigma, even more so why it actually happens the way it does. (Slightly related: Why does that remote system request access to cameras and microphones? And why does it break, randomly and in a rather peculiar way if not granted with these permissions? Odd engineering, odd results, and a feeling of gradually growing old.)
Genügend Licht über den Dächern, und fast Sonne in kahlen Ästen der Bäume. An manchen Tagen spürt man die Kopfhörer schwerer als sonst. In manchen Situationen stolpern Telefonate durch ein eigenartiges planloses Schweigen, in dem man das Rauschen von Heizung und Stadtverkehr verblüffend laut vernimmt. Jemand versucht englische Phrasen zu strapazieren, als Lückenfüller, und scheitert. Aber das ist vermutlich nicht schlimm, es ist ohnehin nicht feststellbar, ob irgendjemand zuhört. Nach kurzer und doch viel zu langer Zeit endet der Spuk, ohne Ergebnisse und eine halbe Stunde älter. (Eine Randnotiz an den Tag formulieren. Neuer Kaffee. Und noch kein Kuchen.)
10am and on. One of these empty-thought moments, standing behind the window, watching some of the younger neighbours return home from shopping with small kids. Everyone's dressed in winter today. On the corner, a janitor with a broom is sweeping dirt and little stones off the sidewalk and right onto the street. Wind singing in the trees again, and all the birds are hiding out of sight.
3pm and on, early in the late hours, with an evening feel already. Not that this is too much of a surprise given these times of limited light. Listening to the neighbourhood heading home, watching a couple of dogs run across the streets towards the river and its meadows. Keep moving. Always. It beats the cold.
11am and slowly on. Warming up again, finally. Using headphones, not for voices but against the grinding sounds of gears running in sand today. There are good days, and there are days where to just hide from the waves. (And, in some cases, not being in charge is a relief, even if that doesn't mean one's able to withdraw from a great deep mess completely.)
9am and on. Caught between continuously reconnecting sessions and continuously getting distracted so they expire before any serious work has been done. There's a good mileage spent on this kind of boilerplate tasks, and at some point it becomes challenging to even remember what actually should be accomplished. (Also, on another note: Communication with group chats in a bigger meeting is a bad idea if the facilitator is both sharing screen and part of that very group. Know your distractions.)
Closing in on 9am. Reviewing yesterday, missing out on critical communication. Repeated insight: If people owning problems don't see their responsibility, problems won't get solved. Expecting people with tightly filled schedules to follow the "right" priorities even if it leads them off their current tracks is hope but not a strategy - and mostly pointless. And language barreers aren't something resolved easily on the fly. (Loads of small pitfalls. Considering wireless headphones to be able to get coffee without disconnecting.)