Things I Can't Change.

I swore I would not work late. I'm not going to go into details about my job, since the specifics are meaningless and boring to those in other fields. It's also potentially risky to write anything that could cost me my job, so there will be no photos posted of me in a stewardess' uniform(apologies to any ladies with weird fetishes). Suffice to say, the one common complaint I think we've all shared at one time or another is the amount of hours we spend working, compared to the amount of hours we spend living. I've been feeling in control of my workload again lately. There's been time to take vacation days and still make my deadlines. Even the gym, closing at 7PM during the Summer, was once more in my reach. Last week I was actually getting down there by 5:30 some days and getting in a decent workout. Talking to a friend at lunch about work philosophies, I couldn't help wondering if I was jinxing myself as always. I'd come to the conclusion, not for the first time, that the more work one does, the more one is assigned. Not for the first time I mused that missing a deadline every now and then wasn't terrible, and would underscore to my superiors just how overworked I am. If I continue handing things in on time and sometimes early, will anyone really notice how often I work late to do so?

With these thoughts in mind, and having taken advantage of some truly awesome weather, I returned to work with a clear head, ready to tackle the changes to my latest issue made in a morning meeting that had burned me out. I worked efficiently and at a good pace, as my ”Take a Bite Outta Rhyme” CD of rock stars covering old school rap blasted from my headphones. At some point I noticed it was 4:30. Then 5:30. At 6:30 I couldn't understand why I was only on page 12 of a 24 page catalog. It was taking too long and worse, if I stayed any longer, I would miss gym. I hate to leave things unfinished, and though the work really could have waited until tomorrow, even if it meant working a little later on one of our Summer half-day Fridays, it would be better than sacrificing my workout. I needed to get rid of the tension I was feeling, and learn when to let go. I didn't get the amount of work done in the time I wanted to do it in. I can't change that.

In life, many things are out of our control. We can't control the weather, or people's opinions of us. We can't cheat death. Stress arises when we work against the tide. I've become laid back over the years, learning to roll with punches. ”I guess it was the beatings made me wise.” Still, for all the things I accept, tension builds. I was tightly wound as I forced myself to stop working. My computer chose this opportune time to freeze, possibly destroying the previous hour's work. Forcing it to restart would mean losing changes to the file, and possibly losing the file itself! Meanwhile, the clock kept ticking. I rolled the dice, restarted, and launched the file. All was intact. As I raced to the stairwell, I silently cursed myself for waiting to check on the file, when I could have done that tomorrow morning during regular hours. A rare voice of experience cautioned me to check my shoelaces, as they often come undone. I'd actually learned from past incidents, thus preventing a three-story tumble. In the locker room, the clock said I had twenty minutes. I changed faster than ever and signed in at the front desk, where the girl cautioned me: “MCF, we close in FIVE minutes!” The clock on the wall said ten, but I knew she was eager to go home after a full day as well, and didn't argue the point. I doubt the five minutes on the step machine helped me physically. It didn't help me mentally.

Driving home, I was a bundle of nerves. I was embarrassed about showing up at the gym at closing time, and not simply going home. The work left unfinished still haunted me, as well as the amount of time I'd spent doing as much as I had. I searched for answers. How many times had I been sidetracked during the day? How many times had I checked this blog, or neighboring blogs? I kept reaching points when I didn't feel like concentrating on my work, and needed a break. All around, commenting and posting have declined, yet I still looked for new things to read, new diversions. Some days, I really can't focus on my work. The answer to the problem, oddly enough, is to NOT focus.

The more I worry about EVERYTHING, the more I accomplish NOTHING. When I relax, and tackle one thing at a time, I'm one of the fastest people in my company. Over the years, I've learned to turn my mind off in troubled times. As far back as elementary school, I can remember many anxious nights trying to fall asleep, worrying about tests and homework. In second grade, I worried how I'd handle third. In third, I saw no possibility of surviving fourth. The pattern continued until, to my surprise, I somehow found myself in college. Things keep going. Some things we have control over; some things we don't. Worrying about the latter isn't a solution. And so, for the last few hours, I managed to forget about work, and delve into The French Connection. Instead of deadlines and various social blunders, I had more important concerns:

”Was I ever in that neighborhood? That street looks familiar. Wow, a lot of things haven't changed. How are they filming these car chases? It looks real, and I know they didn't have CGI or green screens in 1971--WHOA! He just got hit! And he's still going! And he got hit again! LOOK OUT FOR THE BABY CARRIAGE!!!! I swear they’re really shooting people in this thing...”

I can't help that I didn't see a movie that was made before I was born until over 30 years later. I can't help that the sequel isn't available on DVD, nor the television pilot starring Ed O'Neill. I'm never going to see EVERYTHING, no matter how hard I try. It's been two days now since I heard the 10,000 Maniacs version of “Because the Night” on the radio on my drive home. I haven't heard it in years, and I can't help that it's playing in my head right now. There are many things we'd like to change. There are many things we can't change. I can't undo a stressful day, but I can write about it for strangers to read, and get it out of my system.

I feel better now. I'm off to a good night's sleep!