Control, Thy Name is Lack Of

Some might say I’m “type A”. Some might say I have opinions. Some might say that I am a “control freak”.

I like to think it’s not quite that bad.

I think most people like to have at least a modicum of control over their own life. Where you live, what you do with your time, what direction you’re headed.

For quite a while now, I’ve had a complicated relationship with “control”.  For a number of years, more so when the offspring were younger, I felt that I had little control over my life. Where I lived, the schedule of my week, what I had to do, where I could work, what my days looked like.  So much of that seemed out of my control.

I still have problems along those lines.  Like everyone, I have goals, things I’m interested in, places (literal or figurative) that I want to go. And, some times, perhaps too many times, I seem to have little success in getting those things underway.

So I look for places where I can perhaps exert a small amount of control, real or imagined.

Which means that, maybe, just maybe, I sometimes express my opinions.  Clearly and precisely.

I act from time to time. Mostly amateur things, but we usually get pretty reasonable results.

But I tell you, there are times when I’m out there, working with someone else, and it’s painfully clear that they just don’t know how to deliver a joke.  You lob a softball to them, and they just watch it sail across the plate, as if they had no idea it was coming.  Or there’s an opportunity to grab the audience by the heart, and they just let it go by.

I try hard to bite my tongue.  I don’t always manage to.

Of course, it’s possible I could be wrong.

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