I hopped online to write tonight and was greeted by a Posterous screen I hadn’t yet seen before:

“Down for maintenance.”

I missed a heartbeat (possibly two), then calmed down. Down for maintenance? No bueno. I have a [self-imposed] deadline. What’s a girl to do?

It dawned on me that perhaps the old-school route was in order. Unfortunately not in the pen and paper sense, but rather writing in a Word .doc and hoping the site would be fixed in the nick of time (read: by midnight) so that I could undertake a swift copy and paste job.

If the copy/paste route was thwarted, I did happen to notice the Posterous homepage said email posts were still working just fine. All well and good, but unfortunately my blog account is tied to my work email…and there’s nothing graceful about the hunk o’ legalese that would appear with a post sent from my Blackberry.

That said, while not the best option, it’s saved me before with other blogs. I’d take that route if it came down to it.

As a near-last resort, I figured I could always start a new “note” on Facebook and post that, since these posts also automatically populate my wall once I publish them (Randomly, I’ll never get used to talking about my wall, by the way — at least not in a manner that indicates I’m referring to anything other my guardedness and hefty batch of well-honed defenses.)

Needless to say, the site was back in tip-top shape as of a 30 minutes ago, and here I am.

It made me think about how many times in life we come across a roadblock of sorts. Do we take it for what it is, calmly turning around and taking a different direction? Nudge it and hope it gives way enough so that we can squeeze through a small opening? Perhaps we scale it. Or maybe we try to kick it down. Some may opt to enlist the help of friends. Or maybe we just sit and consider it a forced breather.

The latter is my first go-to. Something’s in the way, and so it must be there for a reason. Maybe it’s just to force me to slow down and make sure my I’s are dotted and T’s are crossed. Whatever the reason, I’m fine with waiting it out for a while. Often, I feel like I’ll come across an obstacle that quickly makes me discard the vehicle by which I was traveling. I don’t know what to do about the obstacle, but distilling the matter down into a bite-sized chunk is mandatory. Thus, farewell, vehicle.

I then like to deliberately and carefully dissect everying. This rational concern goes here. That other one, the more emotional response, goes in the corner. Implications and ramifications are clumped together based on their degree of potential impact, and the opinions of others are gathered into a little box.

And then I stand back.

My arms are folded, and the issues surrounding my obstacle no longer have the best of me. I’m eyeing them, and they know it. 

Some of my best, most calming solutions have come to me in my quietest of moments. I’ve put everything aside, I’m staring them down, I’ve managed to silence the brain, and just when I think I’m about to reach some zen-like state, the answer is found. (Which, I suppose, is zen-like in itself.)

Within moments, I’m back up and running. The brain is no longer quiet, but instead is back to its buzzing. It’s firing on all cylinders. It’s good to go.

Tonight I am thankful for the ability to see a situation for what it is, and to be able to methodically pull it apart and show it who’s boss. While I appreciate the lessons an obstacle holds, we’ve all got better things to do than to be had by them. Let’s get back up and running.