Pause and Proceed

I'm glad to report that I just weathered the most awkward and fumbling group presentation in which I may have ever participated. It was one of the last notoriously school o' business projects I will ever have to do, and for that I am eternally grateful. Having it now in the past will significantly reduce the recent tidal wave of stress I've been churning under.

[hooray!]

My role was to talk about the process of alternative implementation based on a detailed analysis of both a TOWS and SWOT matrix. An unspoken part of the requirement was also to speak with sophisticated use of business jargon, or at lease it was encouraged by certain other team members. So last night, in the midst of those who actually comprehend and care about corporate strategy, I was sure to pick up some intellectual catch-phrases. Several of our suggested alternatives fell beneath the umbrella of "Pause and Proceed with Caution," a formula that is pretty self-explanatory. It is defined as a sort of temporary time-out to regroup, where a company decides to stop promoting some particular aspect of operations just long enough to sit down with a task-force or some other savvy group of expertise to bat around solutions. After choosing some "best remedy," it is implemented and the process continues toward success [or so the company hopes].

I'm not sure that I've taken adequate time to truly bear my deep running hatred for corporate America and thus this stupid degree that I chose after a long and rambling stint of art-ful majors. Starving is not becoming on a princess so I sold out to the man...I did a number of dumb things around that period [we'll cover those another day, perhaps]. That to say that I spend most classroom hours distracting myself with daydreams or untimely gossip or internet surfing or...the list is long, friends. I don't pay attention because I don't care. In the rare occasion that some strategic concept enters and sticks in a pocket of long-term memory, the angels sing and rays of light part clouds to bask me in a celestial glow...or something of that nature.

I've had this pause and proceed with caution idea all over my mind through last night and into today. It seems so simple - acknowledge a potential problem, pause, problem solve, and proceed.

[I haven't clearly unearthed the entire story of inner discourse for several reasons, the largest being that I'm tired of looking at it and thinking about it and fighting it and writing about it. The task of spelling it out would be exhausting and redundant. Also, I know that sometimes [though not often] he takes the time to read a little blog post here and there. Some things are better "discussed" when eyes can connect through interaction, not technology.]

Seven minutes in 8 days is not much - I don't care if you are the Time Keeper, himself. It isn't. It is a long time not to communicate, and I'm tired of pretending that I've undergone some mystical shuffling of perception. X months versus XX months is also a long time. But hey, I am getting the swing of secrecy. Trust no one. Share nothing. We're all a bunch of ghosts, whispers of people...jesus.

I spend four-day blocks praying for my phone to startle me. On the days that it does I am unacquainted with the caller's voice. I know he's tired. I do think of him and how lucky I am to be able to sit down at the end of a long day to gain a moment's peace. I'm proud of him and empathetic to the lengthy lists of reasons I shouldn't think about myself. I AM. On the other hand, I AM also half of US and this us is feeling a little fucking hard to fuse.

We all have our baggage, God knows I've got trunk-fulls of my own worn and tacky luggage. Beyond what we bring to the table, it makes us into the people we are. I am an overly-expressive, needy, over-analytical, neurotic drama-queen. And he is a composition very different from myself. I'm privy to that notion, too, just in case anyone wants to remind me how conditioned/trained he is to be hard and frank and direct and reserved, how different his lifestyle is, how...

I know. I know! I KNOW!

I can't have another empty conversation. Pardon my moment of intense selfishness, but I can't. I can't sit through the unbearably unemotional minutes when I'm about to pull out my own fucking hair. It's my last semester and while it isn't a matter of life or death or national security or war, I just can't feel guilty about being stressed and needing a little love myself. And I hear that this is what the deployment's like. If a prolonged version of this looms on my futures of X or XX months apart...

[Pause.]

No calls. Not for a few days.