The Way Things Are






A little scream in my throat
2004-11-04, 4:20 p.m.

Aaauuuugh!!! I just want to scream. So I'll scream here via the written word. I am so filled with frustration and pressure that I have a silent, mental scream bubbling under the surface at all times. I have too much for one person to do, so I do nothing. I sit here paralyzed. And then I get further and further behind each day, which causes more screaming.

It could be, though, that if I worked very diligently, I could get caught up. And new requests for me to jump, sit, fetch or fax wouldn't make me want to leap up and rip out the requester's throat.

Fuck. It's so logical, but I can't get a far lit under my ass and get started on working very diligently. Because all the shit that crosses my desk is either boring, or hopeless. The boring stuff, why bother? The hopeless stuff, why bother even more?

My stomach hurts. I have to pee. My shoulders ache. I'm paralyzed by having too many things to do at once, too many different paths that my brain is taking me down, kicking and screaming. It is so hard for me to get one thing done...operate on an emergency last minute adrenalin rush system...things pile up...overwhelmed by stacks of paper...

Wherein I digress:

There was something really funny - funny like strange - that happened to me right before Lil Guy was born. I had a co-worker whose girlfriend/fiance/wife was a surgical nurse at the hospital that I was to give birth in.

She kept telling me that the hospital tour that the childbirth classes provided was substandard, and that she would love for me to drop in some time to see her, and she'd show me around right. I politely said "That would be great!" and tried to let it drop. Because who gives a fuck about a hospital tour? Not I.

But she wouldn't let it go. She called, she hounded, she extracted a date and time from me. I went, I found her, and lo, she was super busy and very annoyed with me. No time. Now, I can understand not having time because you have a lot of stuff to do, but she was annoyed and uncomfortable with me being there. There was no tour, there was hardly a conversation. It was so weird, as if I were twisting her arm and making her do something for me, and invading her workplace, and generally stalking her.

I promise, I was not stalking her. I felt a little arm-twisted into this weird meeting, and really highly resented her cold reception of me when I finally gave in and visited her at the hospital. Weird, weird, weird people.

Digression over.

How do other people handle big workloads, ringing phones, and constant demands? How do you people handle it? By being efficient and not staring into space with a sullen look on your face? Prolly.

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