Stop that train, I wanna get off.
Just lately the runaway train that is my life has been going a wee bit too fast for comfort. That hurtling at high velocity feeling is fun for a while, but it soon sends you spinning.
I wouldn’t mind a few days pootling around the Cathcart circle on a slow train. Even sitting on the platform waiting for the delayed 1736 to Dumbarton East seems kinda appealing right now.
I don’t mean to sound like an ungrateful moaning minnie, but sheesh! Slow down, already…
It’s like buses, innit? They all come at once. Things, that is. Hunners of them. Weddings, parties, dinners and dates; school trips and socials, swimming and soccer; clients, meetings, proposals and contracts; and work, baby, work. Lots of work.
Look, I like being busy. I like having plenty to do and lots of jobs lined up. Working hard and playing hard suits me as a mantra (well okay then, the playing hard part is a figment of a previous self, but one glass of plonk and I’ll try to party like it’s 1999). And don’t get me wrong, there’s been some great work coming the way of this small business lately, and the social life’s been burning at both ends, but if it don’t all slow down soon there’s going to be a bit of bouncing off the buffers.
Yep, the bullet train that is my modern life sure gets perilously close to coming off the rails sometimes. When pace gathers momentum I’m not so much rabbit in headlights as tunnel-visioned, walking, talking automaton. I just batter on and on, until I hit the barriers. When I’m in single-minded, gotta get through it mode, I’m a selfish wee solo flyer (just ask Mr. Word Up).
Yeah, yeah, I know we’re all supposed to work smart. I know all about taking stock, and stopping to smell the coffee. I get it – the drill about saying no, planning strategically, and managing your workload effectively. I’m well aware that manic momentum will inevitably result in a pile up of one kind or another (like I say, just ask Mr. Word Up).
Sometimes it can’t be helped. Sometimes there just is shedloads going on, and a need for speed. And hey, it’s thrilling thundering along at 100mph – for a while.
But life in the fast lane is for a different kind of professional petrolhead, than this L-plated entrepreneur. When it comes to running a business, I’m far from passing my test. Like a boy racer, I’ve been going too fast, I can’t see what’s coming when it’s all flying by. So to swerve crash’n’burn (for me and my fellow travellers), I’m trying to get back to a reasonable pace.
I’m not coming to a standing stop, in fact I’m still going forward at a pretty good click, but the anchors are pressed, and the foot’s off the gas. It’s time to move into the slow lane, get back on Shanks’s pony, or on to two wheels. It’s time to take in some of the scenery.
C’moan, I’m gettin’ aff.