Fairly in control
I am, most days, a fairly in control person. On those other days, the fearsome ones during which the illusion of control over life that I cling to seems like so much water slipping between my fingers, I am a terrifying, whirling dervish of frantic energy. My kids, who I adore more than life, who I in point of fact labored to bring INTO this life, run my calendar with activities and school work and affairs of the heart (or at least transportation to and from play dates, and romantic dates, and dates that escape description). In short: I am a free, glorified taxi service. I am at the beck and call of adorable tyrants, minions who managed to take over the kingdom, demanding supplies, sustenance, last minute accommodations, all of which I squeeze between the constraints of my actual, full time job coordinating education programs for a few hundred other adorable tyrants belonging to other harried, glorified taxi drivers. I try to keep everything straight from who needs to go where, to who needs what and when. I try to hold onto the times and locations and people I have meetings with, the myriad details, the minutia. Some times I succeed. Sometimes I fail SPECTACULARLY. When I do, I feel less and less like the one at the helm and more like the one in the brig. Sticky notes are a favorite visual planner for me. I post them all over my office, my books, my house, my car in an impressive variety of shapes and colors all coded to specific tasks and persons. I can be found at times amidst a flurry of falling notes peeling away and floating down like a blizzard of duty. I have noticed how reluctant others are to approach me during the heights of my crazed organizational chaos, backing slowly away from me, uttering placating words, smiling nervously before they turn and run. This confuses me since clearly I am in control. At least. I am fairly in control. For now.
closertocrazy 