We avoid conflicts. By sending messages, physical or digital, to each other, because meeting personally would cause friction, especially when tempers are high. There are enough problems without us having internal conflicts.
Politics and bureacracy. Two things which I hate having to deal with, both of with are in abundance in a confined area where everyone sees everyone else on a daily basis, with only an all-too-short respite for weekends.
I can see it, even from this vantage point from above, perhaps because I’m watching everything from up here. Above me, even more complicated, even more delicate threads. Below, a web of interconnectivity, driven by layers and layers of hierarchies, with more and more roots branching out.
One tiny slip, a cut maybe, or a tug in the wrong direction, and another part of the web breaks. And instead of completing the web, we have to go back and mend the parts which we need, the foundation for everything else.
A team effort, but one which feels like every part is so separate communication fails. Between departments, above and below, other than certain groups, communication malfunctions. And I am talking to myself almost all the time.
Wave upon wave of disaster, with incomplete dams and dikes, without canals to reduce effects of flooding, stalling at every turn, to turn back and fix something. One part of the whole, inefficiency reigning, and nothing can be done.
Waiting for the breakdown in my physical capabilities, already I can feel the fatigue seeping in, inattention in classes which I actually like, and efficacy declining. No time to recover, none to watch myself, when it should be a psychomotor process, a natural thing which was drilled in me from countless years of discipline.
And I hope, that there is time. That consequences which have already been bandied about don’t happen.
