Keeping Perspective

Friday was a typical day at work. I did everything you’d expect from somebody trapped in a scene from Office Space.

I attended several meetings and nodded in agreement as buzzwords and acronyms were tossed about seemingly for the sake of making those speaking them sound important. I may have even contributed a few of my own, although I’m not proud of it.

I sat in my cube and typed away on my keyboard furiously.

I updated my white board to keep track of my current tasks, all while doing my best not to become addicted to the smell of dry-erase markers.

I engaged in small-talk with co-workers about nothing in particular, but which could, in a pinch, be considered a “team-building activity.”

I talked confidently on the phone about matters that really weren’t that important, but which seemed to be at the time.

I filled in my time sheet by guessing at the number of hours I had worked on each of the three million project categories I am allowed to charge time to.

I left the office happy to be through another week, but still thinking about what the next week would bring.

As I was about to pull into my apartment complex, I saw that a school bus was dropping children off there. They piled out and immediately began to engage in activities that children are noted for. For example, they began to throw pine cones at one another.

I smiled.

I mean, I want to throw pine cones, too! Heck, I’d like to get involved in anything within the Throwing Stuff At Other Stuff category of kid amusement. Also, I wouldn’t mind poking at mud with a stick for a while. And I wouldn’t be against running around at full speed just because it seems like the thing to do. Shrieking at the top of my lungs? I’m in!

Oh well. That’s obviously not going to happen. I’m stuck in khaki and button-down shirt land. Poking at mud is prohibited.

However, at least seeing the pine cones flying through the air helped to remind me that everything doesn’t always have to be taken so seriously all of the time.

So maybe I’ll go collect some pine cones after all, and store them in the glove compartment of my car. Maybe, just maybe, they’ll come in handy someday.

The way I see it, it’s not about winning the war against maturing, it’s about prolonging the battle for as long as possible. Sometimes it's just easy to lose track of that.