This morning I find myself experiencing something that hasn’t happened in a long time.
As I board my big green chariot, I realize I had started to sweat.
Little beads of promise on my forehead.
I mull this over.
Could it be because I consumed an inexplicable amount of chicken wings last night?
Or am I sweating because of the warmer climate?
Sweating in February.
Even while wearing a lighter jacket.
Hey, I’ll take it.
I realize that with a mild weather forecast for the day, I can begin to play one of my favourite games that I just invented, Jackass Bingo.
This seasonal phenomenon occurs when you have an unseasonally warm weather day and notice someone wearing shorts, tank tops or thongs.
Of the shoe variety.
When spotted, and you will see one of these morons, you have to be the first person to yell, “Jackass! It’s February!”
I guess a feeling of personal accomplishment will have to suffice.
After a day of mental health first aid, I can assure you if you screamed randomly at strangers on the sidewalk, you would likely be considered crazy and thus ignored.
Speaking of which, has the fog lifted?
That’s still debatable.
Yesterday, I spent most of my time in a training session quite literally with my head above the clouds.
What would have been a waterfront view of Lake Ontario manifested into a thick, opaque sky.
My new-new work bestie and subsequent only regular blog fan commented how she felt we were above the clouds.
Even though we often think the same things, I did what every faithful work bestie would do and agreed with everyone else that her opinion was stupid.
I’m loyal like that.
I also added how I felt like we were on the bonus level of Super Mario, when he climbs up the beanstalk and grabs as many coins as his pudgy body has the capacity to.
The screen pushes the plumber like teapot along the way.
I felt a wee bit like Super Mario yesterday.
Instead of collecting coins and UV rays, I obtained knowledge about suicial tendencies, severe depression, mood disorder and substance abuse.
That’s kinda the same thing.
Proud of that correlation, as I make the schlep up to my perch, I see a new sign!
Phew! This post is salvaged from being another weather forecast.
The first observation I make has very little to do with the wording.
After this sign and studying attire from yesterday’s session, I fear plaid is making yet another resurgence.
I didn’t know “Lumber Jack” was the theme for fashion week Spring 2017.
Then I read the signage.
I mull this over.
When am I not the boss of me?
Those instances are few and far between.
I realize the value of self-awareness, particularly in today’s world of work.
It’s something I teach in one of my courses, Socio-Economic Change & Response, which I rename “the new world of work” depending on one’s intellectual capacity.
Because You’re The Boss of You.
There are times in our lives, when we can shine and become more of our truest possible selves. These are the deeply woven threads to our compositonal fabric.
Sadly, these threads are the exception and not the standard.
Most of the time, we have to pretend. We develop layers and wear masks of what we should be.
We do this of our own volition, sometimes to maintain the status quo, not to create conflict and because we need a paycheque.
Other times because we’re not socially inept.
These instances are the fluff.
Being in a reflective state, I wonder, how can I be the boss of me today?
What does “boss” mean, anyway?
I think of my old Boss, one of my favourite people.
I call her Boss, and when she receives mail from me, it will say Boss McDermott.
Now that is someone worthy of that title.
Boss is kind, loyal, empathetic and fierce.
We may not talk everyday, but can pick up like we’ve never missed a beat.
She was my supervisor in the early days, and demostrated you can lead and be kind.
She led by example.
These are all traits I admire and try to implement in my own career.
So, for the day, and until my next big idea, I will do my best to follow her example, being strong and kind to myself.
Perhaps the mental health training has resonated with me.
Or perhaps being a boss is something entrenched at an early age.
In grade 2 I wore a t-shirt which read;
“I’m not bossy I just have better ideas.”