I am recently fearful that I am entering a lull; or worse, a hard stop. School had just finally become comfortable to me when I broke free (by natural causes, at least). For obvious reasons, my work life feels like a resumption of some past - and inferior - existence. What am I to do with myself? I have tried to bury myself in books and movies (to ultimately bury myself in ideas), but where does the time go? How long have I been reading this goddamn book on consciousness? How many guided tours can one man lead into Glen Canyon? Will even one of Calvino's short stories approach the brilliance of If On A Winter's Night A Traveler...'s vivid, feet-on-the-ground-head-in-the-clouds fantasies?
Nothing can happen fast enough. My drive to improve, refine, eliminate excess itself needs refining. I get frustrated at the time it takes to drive to work, although there is nothing to be done about it. I can't save money fast enough. The other day I was mildly annoyed at the thought that I had to put in for PTO to go on a trip, and I finally thought to ask the question: What priorities have gotten confused if the chance to go on a vacation has come to feel like a liability?
I need to find simultaneity between the goals that I have made opposite through my own attempts to engineer my behavior: focus and relaxation. Advice welcome.
No comments:
Post a Comment