I keep thinking of things I want to write, and then I start writing them, and part of the way into it I just give up. I don’t know what that is… writers block is when you lack ideas, right? Or is it also when you just can’t see the ideas through?
Was thinking this past week about the old job. Not missing it, but reminiscing. I remain consistently happy with the decision we made to change things as drastically we did. There is an intoxication that high-profile corporate jobs offer… a validation, a sense of accomplishment… climbing that ladder chasing that next promotion. There’s also the notion of being part of a “tribe” that doesn’t exactly come at a small business. Both are worth remembering, and sometimes fondly… but the first one, at least, is fool’s gold.
I think it’s a dangerous pride thing. The validation and recognition I got from work were powerful enough to satisfy that overall need, making me less mindful of needing/wanting the same from other environments: home, kids, wife, parents. Money, position, respect: drugs to be sure. Not that they are inherently bad but I guess I just wanted something different.
Shifting… recasting the source of that sense of satisfaction to not one thing but to any thing, whatever today’s thing is… not a thing to grind towards somewhere out there in the future but whatever it was today: cleaning the pool, reading a book, taking a nap. Slowing down, trying to live in it. There are still four hours left in the day and they are entirely yours to do with as you like.
The other night at 9pm I made fresh pasta.
Until later then.