april snow brings may...?

Oh April, why do you hate me? Every year you come around, briefly teasing your tantalizing sunshiney wares only to throw on a terry-cloth robe and dump more snow on us. Can't you just cut us a break for once? I'm really not a big fan of this whole winter turns to spring for a splitsecond before it turns to blazing hot summer thing we have going on in Southern Ontario. I like spring! I want to experience spring! Stop bogarting all the spring weather, April!

Today I want to blog about the sometimes difficult need to act (at least somewhat) professional in a professional environment. You know how when you were a kid you could get away with pretty much anything? I mean sure, your parents would lay out a set of rules for you to follow (be kind, share, don't lie, stop throwing stale gingerbread cookies at your sister), but in general, if you instictively reacted to something in a certain way, it wouldn't stand out as odd or unacceptable because you're just a kid. In fact, anything weird you did would likely end up being seen as adorable or funny.

As you get older, this starts to change. You have to start acting like an adult. You have to suppress any childish thoughts or reactions you might have. If you're in the middle of a lively debate, you're not allowed to resort to "So's your face!" or "Sucks to your asmar!" and if you're in a meeting where one collegue debunks another colleague's presentation, you're not allowed to point out that the presenter "got served".

Have you ever been in an office environment and gone to the washroom throughout the day only to run into the same other person every time you go? The few times that's happened to me, my brain always flashes to this scene where we stand side by side at the sinks and I jokingly point out that we must be on the same pee schedule and they look at me as though I just told them I have the plague. You just can't say stuff like that, funny as the situation might be. It makes me kind of sad.

Another one I experienced recently was my childish instinct to freak myself out when I'm going up or down the stairs (worried that someone is chasing me.. something I thank my sisters for). Sometimes I'll be going down the stairs at work and I'll hear someone heading down the stairs a few floors up. Convinced it's some "scary man" who somehow got into the building, I have to keep myself from running down the stairs like a crazy person to get away from them. You know how once you think of something stupid like that, it sort of compounds and extreme silliness ensues? Thankfully, I'm yet to actually flee in terror. A lively imagination can be a dangerous thing.