On the importance of importance.

Sadly, I don’t know that I have anything to say that can’t be said in 14o characters or fewer. If you see a blog post after this, I must have figured out something to say…

I’ve been thinking over the last couple of days about things that are important. What is, what isn’t, and why.

Is being right important? Is being nice important? Which is more important?

Is being “good” at something important? Is having “fun” important? What about being so obsessed about something that you get good at it, is that even healthy? Should I let Ray go off the deep end about various things, trusting that she’ll be back eventually? Do I even have a choice? What’s the difference between going nuts about something and not knowing what else to do with your time?

When I don’t have time for the things I love, what do I give up? I can only give up so much downtime before my brain fries. Why does everything have to be so important? Why do I have to care about EVERYTHING? Why do I let myself get backed into doing something I don’t love, don’t want to do, but feel to guilty to abandon? On the one hand, you have to try new things, or you’ll never find out whether you’ll like something or not, but on the other hand, when do you burn your bridges on something you’re trying out?

Why don’t I make time for the things I want to do? Why am I so attached to commitments that aren’t worth my time?

In the middle of all this, my position at work is on very shaky bedrock. I probably won’t get fired tomorrow, but the next few months will be rough. Do I take a job I don’t like? I’m not ready to go freelance, for financial reasons, but more than 50% of my brain is saying, “please fire me…please fire me…”

I’m not working much on computer stuff. Thinking about computers makes me panic, honestly, and I keep telling myself that I have to get the novel out before I can go back to computer stuff. But I obsess about it daily. I’m pretty sure being an IT tech is not the job for me. I mean, it’s bedrock stuff, and I’d be ashamed not to know it, but I’ve been skimming through Lee’s Make magazines, and the articles about fussing around with hardware just don’t twirl my eggs.* (It’s the programming stuff that I drool over.)

But I haven’t been writing lately, either. I’ve been reading books, because I haven’t had time to read books lately, and that’s what made me feel the worst. Also, when I’m reading books, the back of my brain is usually secretly sorting something out. But I’m not accomplishing anything while I read books, so I feel bad about that…

I’ve spent years doing what I was supposed to do. Maybe not to the same extent that other people do, but I’ve been doing it, being jerked around by it. I’m frustrated with doing what I’m supposed to do, but I don’t know that I could ever succeed at doing what I want to do (especially with as mixed up as I am now).

Good severance package…good severance package…no whammies…no whammies…

*I was going to type “pump my nads” but I realized that’s not what it was…this seemed to be both parallel and accurate.