It is no secret that I have been frustrated at work lately, for reasons that are completely unoriginal and redundant. This morning, as I was carpooling with my friend/co-worker (A), I had to take an early exit and sit in a liquor shop's vacant parking lot gasping for air and trying to compose myself. Composition being elusive, I tried to get to a point where I could drive and not endanger people. We made it to work alive.
Before we walked into the office, I sat in the car, staring at my steering wheel. Nausea, vertigo and lack of oxygen is a heady combination on a Monday morning. "I'm running out of time, and I have accomplished nothing. Nothing. I'm going to die soon and will have been a waste." As the words came pouring out, I realized I was contributing to my friend's sense of panic.
I made it through the day, writing angry responses to emails that were so stupid it was amazing I didn't go and smack someone upside the head. I exercised further self restraint and didn't send any of the angry responses, opting to wait a little while and respond in a more professional tone. That did not mean that I wasn't scaring people. When A came and asked me how I was feeling after a string of emails was being tossed around, doubling and tripling my paper shuffling duties, I looked up at her and quoted a new favorite writer of mine, "I'm motherfucking ZEN, goddammit."
"Ok, well--let me know if you need anything."
And such was my day. As I dropped A off outside her house, she tried to be reassuring mumbling something before she got out of the car. Suddenly, as if she had stumbled upon a great idea, she said, "Hey, go home and read your friends. That should cheer you up."
She's right; these 'friends' do cheer me up.
So thanks friends. Yes, that means you, you, you and you.