I’ve been feeling terribly stressed at work. It’s been a few months, and I haven’t quit yet. Multiple reasons for it of course – the pandemic, lack of a plan, visa issues, the effort of team-switching, the fear and possibility of quitting but still feeling equally bad about life and of course, sunk-cost.
As I contemplate, I of course think about what changed over the last (almost) 8 years. I’m pretty sure I never loved programming, but I never disliked it as much as I seem to be doing these days. I suppose I always saw programming as a means to an end and the ends aren’t exciting anymore.
The ends at the time were “solving cool tech problems” and maybe a “successful career in tech”, or so I told myself. But they were also
- money,
- prestige,
- communal, societal and familial validation and
- this general, vague, weird idea of success.
Well – I have those things now – so the external motivators are gone. Of course, I hope there was some sort of intrinsic motivator of wanting to be good at whatever I do, but it seems like that’s not enough (anymore).
So, the pandemic really did bring a bunch of shit to the forefront.
There’s a part of me which wonders how I ended up here. Well, my upbringing, of course. I’m sure there’s people who knew they weren’t cut out for this. But I didn’t. And maybe I could have been. But I don’t feel it anymore.
I spoke to my sister-in-law recently about all of this and as I started talking along the lines of “well I’m not sure, maybe I don’t need to derive joy out of my work?” and she, very strongly, disagreed. And I’ve been speaking to a few people about this, and I’ve received strong opinions on both sides of this, and I’m still very impressionable, so I keep swinging. (Side-rant about how kids can be so impressionable, how does one navigate the danger of imprinting a false belief in a child’s mind?)
But then I think about what else I could do instead. I’ve been playing around with the idea of writing and/or photography. Those are the two things I’ve enjoyed in the last few years as my hobbies. And I do really enjoy both the activities – of course I don’t know whether I can get paid for those or not, and I don’t know whether I have the skills to even consider those options (and here’s the funny part – i’m really scared of the answer to both of these questions being “no”). But the longer I don’t quit my current job, the longer I’m putting of really seeking the answers to these questions.
I have a few thoughts about writing. I finally started these word-vomits, just as a test to see whether I can even write. And the idea currently is that we concentrate on quantity, not quality. (Because we know that generally works). But what happens once that’s done? What happens once I do write a 100 word-vomits? I’m supposed to increase my goal. I think I’m already scared that I’m not going to want to go further. What if I’d done everything right, and still failed? What if I’d gotten that writing degree, and still failed? I guess it doesn’t matter.
People often say there is no end to introspection. If that’s the case, a 100 word-vomits should be pretty easy. If not, it’ll be cool to have gotten everything off my chest.
Just checked my word count on this. I’ve been noticing a pattern. I’m able to get to 500-600 words on pretty much anything that I care about, pretty easily. How do I get to a 1000 words though? At some point it might start feeling forced to the reader. But the whole point of this project is to not worry about the reader. I find that I’m worrying about the quality again. I guess this what they call practice? Maybe after a few of these, I’ll be able to get to 700-800 words more easily. Feeling a little bit of excitement about maybe reaching that point. But I worry – if it’s the same thing happening again. I have a goal in mind, I’m writing to get to that goal. What happens when (or if) I don’t care about that goal anymore? I suppose I have to give myself the freedom to set potentially meaningless goals, even if they don’t result in anything. That’s what’s hard about life. To come back to the present, again and again and again. It’s kind of a meditation, I suppose.
My word-count tool just told me that the reading level on this is “9th-10th grade”. Oops. Well, I should change my tool. I’m not looking for judgement yet. I only need to focus on quantity.
I find this “stream of consciousness” style of writing very interesting. I can’t think of anything else that can capture something in such a raw manner? I can’t imagine a self-portrait which captures someone clicking (or painting) that self-portrait.
I’m noticing how my mood can affect the structure of a word vomit as well. I have a couple of these that are super clear, logical and structured. And I have a couple which are pretty all over the place. Might just call them public journal entries. And maybe that’s okay, I don’t really want to think about whether these might benefit anyone else. I can just think about the benefits I might reap from these. Maybe I’ll feel interesting things at the end of a 100,000 words. Maybe I won’t.
But I am also enjoying how thinking about wanting to write a few more words does not stress me out. I am just observing. And it’s easy to observe, it’s an inbuilt ability in humans, I believe. I am an ornithologist and my thoughts are like migratory seagulls. I am a scientist and my sinking heart is Newton’s falling apple. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Zero.
untitled atm 