Work has been so busy lately. It’s spooky that I can type faster than I can write or think, for that matter. This is just another reminder of how wired I am, how fast paced and obsessive I get about efficiency and redundancy. This is a great “feature” to my personality, but knocks me off balance if I have no pull in the opposite direction.

I felt that walking up the 11 flights of stairs to work this morning (one of the elevators was broken and I didn’t feel like waiting)… I couldn’t bare to waste my time waiting for one of the working elevators to arrive, so I put myself through this nauseatingly physically draining (albeit wonder-woman healthy) experience just to avoid a wait. I was curious why I just didn’t wait; it probably took longer for my out-of-shape legs to propel me up the stairs than it would have to wait for the elevator. The point was that I felt productive walking up the stairs. I felt progress. Why such a need for progress? It permeates everything I do, and helps me to get ahead, keep moving, stay focused, progress, and progress. Staying still makes my skin crawl.

There is a danger in all this. Do I strive for things because of my obsessions, or do I really feel fulfilled when I reach a goal? In terms of more emotional pursuits, it’s hard to back off and go at things naturally sometimes because I find myself judging things on the same scale as my professional life. But now I am feeling super healthy after my stair climb this morning, and inspired to check out that karate class near home. I think starting up with that again from scratch at a new school will be a greatly needed, humbling way to check myself before I wreck myself. ‘Nuff respect due to Ice Cube…