Perspective

When I got done with work yesterday, I was kind of in a foul mood. I had been micro-
managed at work, and I hate that. Do you want to write an email while someone is
standing directly behind you? Probably not. How about if that person is telling you what
to write in that email. Seriously!? It seems rather inefficient. Go write the email yourself
then. Bah.

Anyways, it would have been so nice to run off that icky-biznass in the cool breeze
outside by the lake… Hmmmm… not so much. One of my muscles on the outside of my
hip and thigh is bugging me. I guess it worked too hard in the race last weekend. So I’m
letting it rest. It’s the right thing to do, but then I’m a crabby-pants instead…

So, I decided to bake. Let’s making something deliciously fattening and heavy laden
with butter and sugar to make me feel better! Yep, that should do the trick… Well, as I’m
whipping up some scones, the recipe decides to be stupid and list an amount of milk that
cannot be correct because I was left with a pile of dry batter that didn’t resemble that of
scones at all. Seriously?? So, I added some more, and worked the “dough” together, and
soon enough all of the nice little chunks of butter that I so very precisely cut into the flour
melted and I was left with a huge, dense, pile of lameness. I almost chucked it into the
garbage. But I let out a scream of exasperation and stomped my foot and proceeded to
make them because, gosh-darn-it, part of this day will go well!

They turned out like bricks.

Tasty, bricks though.

And as I was baking the bricks, I started packing up some of my stuff in my apartment.
Moving day is next weekend. Oh joy. Anyways, as I was fumbling around in my closet,
I came across an envelope. It was a recommendation letter that one of my professors had
written for me. I was going to use it last spring, for applying to a master’s program, and
never used it. However, I never opened the letter. I felt like I would be cheating. Like I
really wasn’t supposed to know what my professors thought of me. But, seeing as how
yesterday was just going so well, I decided to open it.

On a scale of 1 to 5, 5 being excellent, my professor gave me a 3 in Managing Stress. I
was a little bugged at first. What does he mean? That I can’t handle stress? That I buckle
under pressure? It was the last thing I wanted to read on a day like yesterday. But as
I thought about it more, maybe I do stink at managing stress. As referenced above, I
screamed and stomped my foot. Seriously, how old am I, 3 years old??

And it is not asking if I can handle stress. Yes. I can handle stressful situations. But how
do I manage them?

Like a 3 year old. Great.

So, now it’s time to re-evaluate once again. I feel like I’m doing that constantly. How
about baby steps. The next time I’m presented with something stressful, I try NOT to
stomp my foot.

Sound good?

Wow. Good thing it’s Friday. Cheers everyone!

Here is my article. http://www.duluthnewstribune.com/event/article/id/235038/