Quo Vado?

As I delay the start of this afternoons work, I cannot fathom that I've worked in this Engineering House for almost seven years. In seven years I've worked at three different spaces, grown from the neophyte wood engineer to a brash intimidating figure that has contractors bending to my will while worrying that I'll fall out of their buildings. I now know enough to be more than dangerous; but, not enough to start my own firm. My finances and my personal comfort dictate that I spend one more year handling the drama of the office.

With today's boredom and frustration, I'm not sure I can do that.

“Western civilization has a long tradition of visual representation. No longer needing more from such art than a moment of shared vision with an artist alive or dead, I can appreciate it once more. But popular culture has made representation simultaneously omnipresent and anonymous. We seem to make the mistake of thinking that seeing means knowing, and that the more exposed a person is, the more important they are.” -Ingrid Mattson in Finding the Prophet in His People

This morning's dream between the third and fourth bell typifies how I find so much of my life. It began by coning me into a game of make the rules up as you go sock ball. As I watched trying to decipher it, and my role in it, the others playing mocked me. Actively joining the game, against my protestations mind you, I made a series of errors and found myself nearly run over by the other players. The sock ball game unraveled; and, I narrowly escaped trampling by a guy too cute for his own good. I watched the ensuing chaos from a spot on the ground, completely forgotten by all but one person. I began to help clean-up the field only to be tackled by small children looking for a 'horse' ride.

The fourth bell saved me this morning, even as I crawled into bed and waited for the fifth.

"America's future will be determined by the home and the school. The child becomes largely what he is taught; hence we must watch what we teach, and how we live." -Jane Addams

I feel like I should say something here. My brain's hot. My body's cold. Someone's pinching the bridge of my nose.

I can't say the folk that work around me don't notice things. I just have to say that it takes some time. I sat in Randy's chair long enough on Saturday to have him put highlights in my hair. It's five days later and I still haven't decided yet if I like them. They have however been noticed by Firecracker and Bossman. Both of whom had donkey like things to say about them.

The number eighteen sign that you have too much work: You're glad to be pushed on by a client in a meeting because your boss is there and maybe now he'll believe he's not the only one getting pressured from all sides.

Can I just say how much I love going to meetings about new work coming on line when I can't grasp the work currently on my plate.

It's a good thing I returned from lunch as a double fisted drinker. The lunch order included two large iced teas - one half and half and one unsweet. I mixed them together when I got back. Now, I could almost float.

"A man must not deny his manifest abilities, for that is to evade his obligations." -William Feather, The Treasure of Franchard

One of our out of town clients (we'll call him DHeadH) dropped by the office today. I chatted with him for a bit while Bossman disappeared to the back in order to collect some five-story wood details. When Bossman returned DHeadH gave Bossman a hard time about the ugliness of our front office carpet. Just as DHeadH said it should be replaced with something fancier I said, "No, he can't do that. Then I'd have to wear real clothes to the office." Everyone chuckled a bit; but, then I realized it was another one of those times I should have just kept quiet.

"Persistence is a strong will. Obstinance is a strong won't." -Anon.

Perhaps one day my ability to concentrate for longer than ten minutes will return to me. At the moment, I can't make it much past the first two sentences of any given thought process. I've mentally started six posts since Friday; none of the thoughts sustained itself from the point of origin to the computer.

I'm forcing a lull into the work routine. The pep has left my step and all juggling ability declared it was going on hiatus last week. This week isn't going to be fun.

Oh, well, life goes on even when I just want a nap.

P.S. The post title refers to the 'special' episode of The West Wing that aired after September 11th.

"Individualism, as a definition of holding to personal ideals, is classed as obstinacy and anti-social. Inevitably we run point blank into the evils of compromise. When compromise enters our moral fiber, it spreads like a cancerous growth. We think we plan adequate safeguards around areas in which we contemplate yielding our standards, but once we lower the fence and break our strong will to do right, come what may, we expose ourselves to forces that spread beyond control. Compromise always starts on some rather insignificant principle. The dangers of yielding seem negligible and we usually risk those things first where observation and detection by others is difficult. We thus seek to avoid censure and discipline. In a short time we find ourselves trading our principles for false values and doing it in the black market of human relationships. . . ." -Ralph W. Hardy

As a sophomore in college, my penchant for sleeping anywhere peaked. By the end of the fall semester, if we congregated in your room, it's likely that I slept there. I find it somehow comforting to sleep among the noise. I would go on in my college career to sleep through three-quarters of The Life of Brian, Monty Python and the Holy Grail, and Army of Darkness^[1].

As classes ended for the semester, and the dead week approached, I did the one thing that freaked out my suite mates. I didn't collect my mail. While at the time, not seeing me for a day or two occurred often, I always^[2] collected the mail from in front of my door. With my sleeping habits already established, she called around Saturday afternoon to see if anyone had put me up for the night. No one had seen me after lunch Friday.

Just before they were going to call the campus police, I wondered in to Bill & Chad's room and asked what day it was. The day before I'd finished up my last class early and asked the only friend I could find at the time if I could crash in his room. I slept the early part of the afternoon away. We took an afternoon nap together^[3] and I mumbled my way out of dinner. He left around ten to meet a friend at Arigeeka. When he returned home at midnight and tried to wake me up he decided I was too out of it to take the last shuttle ride to the top of the hill. So, I spent the night and snoozed my way well into the next morning. By the time I'd finally regained full conscienceness I'd slept for twenty-two hours, only half-waking up to plod my way to the bathroom upstairs.

The nap portion of that sleep was one of the last times I remember feeling completely safe for more than five minutes.

[1] I would later come to wish that I hadn't been in the room for Army of Darkness
[2] Mail was so much more entertaining in college.
[3] Literally. This was the same male friend who paid me the ultimate complement that he'd seriously consider dating me if I was a guy.

I reached over and grabbed the underside of the table. Pulling myself and the rolling chair into the work area while saying, "Now, let's get to those details." In that brief moment a stethoscope and white coat with ballpoint pens in the pocket would have finished the picture.