A tall glass of water
#1: Read my mind
As I write this, I have 2 assignments (that collectively will consist of 8,000 words or so), 2 exams, and 2 group presentations, all due within the next 3 weeks. Isn’t that kind of cool? No, seriously — isn’t it amazing that course directors at business schools are cool with burdening human beings with that amount of work? I guess it’s these kind of time-pressures that create ‘future leaders’ right? Right? I mean, if I don’t look at my workload in wonder, the likelihood is someone will be scooping me off the floor in less than 48 hours. Because of this, I am only allowing myself 20 minutes to flirt with Medium, so please blame any grammatical errors, and this short indulgent piece on the motley crew that oversee the post-grad education system. I am not directly culpable.
I’ve been feeling a little out of sync with myself recently. Unaligned. Lopsided. Awry. Askew? It feels as if one eyeliner flick is a slightly different shape to the other, despite my utmost efforts. (Empathy and understanding just sky-rocketed amongst my fellow feline-flick-females) As if the door labelled ‘self’ is due for repair, and thus a pesky, and almost undetectable draft is whistling through and disturbing the peace.
Just in case I didn’t lose you with my delicious over-use of slightly irrelevant analogies, here’s another. Imagine drinking a tall glass of water with a straw that is marginally too short. The first 80% of water that you drank, was incredibly refreshing. Like no other glass of water that you have ever drank before. So cold, that you felt it ooze down your throat in a way that was painstakingly satisfying. £10 you’ve never seen water described like that…
But what you really need is a tad bit more. Just a little bit. But you can’t reach it. Why? Because the bloody straw is too short. This is where I currently am; comically twisting and turning the god-forsaken straw around, to try and reach the last 20% of water.
I should probably relieve you of my riddle-speak, and explain myself. The drinking of the water is symbolic of me shedding the innumerable flavours of BS the world has fed me about who I’m meant to be, what I’m meant to look like, and how I’m meant to progress through life. It’s symbolic of me reaching contentment within myself and my decisions. Freeing myself from the demands of conventional wisdom. Over the past year and a half, (the period in which I got really busy slurping away), I’ve managed to glug up a good 80%, I’d say.
But as we all know, and as the wise but wretched 80–20 rule informs us, 20% of the work, yields 80% of the results. And this last 20% is probably what I need, to feel truly at home in myself. At least before I become thirsty again, and the process repeats itself. That’s what growth is all about — drinking numerous tall glasses of water, with straws that are, by design, too short.
Thus the work must begin in lengthening my proverbial straw.* But first, the work must begin on my 3,000 word essay on “Innovative ways to manage people and organisations to enable effective teamwork and leadership.”
Until next time. Stay slurping.
