Battiness in Belfry
2004-04-08, 12:18 p.m.
My stomach is busily digesting itself, and Iím having a crisis of effectivity here. I made that word up myself, so I know itís a real word. It seems that everything I do to try to reign in the disaster that is the organization (I use that word loosely, like a loose slut) I work for, more shit comes crashing down on my head. So in other words, as I briskly sweep the place clean, I careen wildly through the room knocking fragile glass objects to the floor, breaking them and causing even more mess. Head, meet brick wall.
I compared the situation yesterday to Mike the Colleague to a ball of snarled yarn that I am to untangle, but I canít even find an end to begin untangling with. And as I dig into this ball of knots, I find more and more knots inside that I have to untangle before I can go back to untangling the one I thought I was untangling to begin with. I dig deeper and deeper, finding more knots, trying to work them loose, but just making the overall knottiness worse. Mike the Colleague said it reminded him of sea snakes that he had seen in the China Sea Ė a ball of writhing, roiling snakes that Iím attempting to unravel, but watch out! Theyíre poisonous, as well as being all tangled together. Well, that certainly made me feel better. Itís not just an impossible tangle Ė itís a poisonous biting impossible tangle.
So what the fuck am I doing here anyway? Is it me? Are my ideas and innovations and solutions really just bigger problems? The actual business itself Ė service-enriched affordable housing, is not that difficult. Itís the relationships between me, and the properties, and the management companies, and the satellite people such as attorneys, insurance agents, real estate agents, and then there are the personal relationships with people who work at organizations that my organization are not so friendly with, but I want to stay friends with the individuals. And the lack of communication. And the lack of respect. And the gossiping, and rumor-mongering, and drama-whoring, and power-trips, and incessant phone calls, and forest fires, and damage control. The phone, the dog, the doorbell!
I mean, dude, Iím trying to organize, streamline, and gain control over this roiling writhing mess. Each time I take an action to do this noble deed, I am met with a nest of hissing squirming snakes. Can I hang in here long enough to see the fruits of my actions come to uhhhhÖ.fruition? Too much fruit? Can I just see a little resolution, a little sense being made here? Throw me a bone, people!
Speaking of bones, the wild monkey love made last night between me and my beloved DishWasher was just plain intense. I do have something good going on, itís just not at this putrid workplace. And my desk is too small and cluttered with nests of paper, dating back in time as a little archeological memorial to nonproductivity, to be able to bring the wild monkey love in here. Maybe on the big green couch in the reception area, though. Hmmmmm.
Do I need a mentor? A coach? Yes. Yes, I do. Unfortunately, my coach is involved in many federally-related court dates, subpoenas, restraining orders, and suits to be able to help me much right now. Oh, itís not his fault directly Ė heís not a smooth criminal. Or even a rough one, for that matter. It was his generosity that landed him in trouble Ė the guaranteeing of debts for his father, who after filing bankruptcy, passed away suddenly last February while our whole gang was skiing in Tahoe, celebrating the wedding of two of our membership. Long sentence? You betcha. But then, maybe my whole roiling mass of mess could be related to him, since he was in charge of it before the times of trouble began.
Itís all about communication on my part. I spring shit on people at the last minute, when a particular situation has gotten past the point of repair, and then I get everyone all riled up in panic mode. Am I an adrenaline junkie? Do I thrive on stress and shortness of breath? Do I procrastinate on purpose in order to create chaos, and then dive into it to get off on saving the day? I think so. I really do.
This calls for a major overhaul of how I spend my time, how I determine my priorities, and how I communicate with folks outside my office. Intra-office, Iím good. Inter-office, not so much. I tend toward the sneak-attack email barrage rather than keeping people up-to-date.
I shall at this moment (not here!) make a list of the crap thatís slowly circling the fan, threatening to dive in. And I shall assign the blame to whatever action on my part created it. And I shall work toward first solving the problem, and second solving the problem in me that created that particular problem.
And Iím constipated, too. Did I mention that? And my weight went up despite my careful monitoring of what I ate and how much I worked out? So this week, Iím not counting those hateful points, I havenít worked out since Saturday, and Iím barely even drinking water. It is a vicious cycle, baby. To the Bats-Mobile!
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