Have you ever been sitting at your desk at work or simply sitting or standing, and suddenly you’re overcome with the urge to throw something?

Have you ever felt compelled to scream until and kick something until all eyes are on you?

I’m sure most of us have felt utterly repulsed by other bodies constantly surrounding us—all of them talking, laughing and shuffling around simultaneously.

The feeling starts in this really dark place in the back of your head. It pounds its tiny, furious little fist at your skull and raises its voice at you telling you to lose it and go crazy.

You find that you can’t fight the itch in your stomach and squirm uncomfortably as the cabin fever becomes increasingly harder and harder to ignore.

“I’m going to throw something,” you think. “I am going to get up and stand on this desk and kick something.”

Your fingers twitch and your knee begins to tremble feverishly—nostrils flared, lips curled, fists balled.

Then the sweat trickles down your temple, your chest tightening and your head swells with an excruciating headache.

“How can I possibly get through this day without yelling at someone or losing my cool?” You wonder. It’s that fiery temper and stress that has been snowballing from the very beginning of the semester.

Suddenly they come tumbling out in the worst, most non-efficient way: the Freudian slip.

“This place is driving me crazy!” You shriek in this high-pitched voice and claw at paper and desks then hurl yourself into a manic laughing fit.

The next thing you know you’re growling and snarling at your friends, ripping up folders and eating stale pretzels like a madman. You feel it. You’ve got that crazed look in your eyes because it burns—glaring from beneath your brow at anyone who comes near enough to tell you to “relax” or to “breathe from your gut.”

Maybe you’re the type to get up, walk around and hug people. Or perhaps you’re the one who bangs on desks with your hands like a drum at an obnoxious, nonexistent beat. Are you the off-key, tone deaf singer, the wild-limbed, flailing dancer—the one who blocks out the rest of the extraneous noise around you with headphones? Do you stand and convulse or run to the bathroom to cry?

Which workspace psycho are you?

Margorie Clemente is senior English major.  She can be reached at 581-2812 or denopinions@gmail.com.