Bored at Work
OK, I'm waiting out the last 20 minutes at work with nothing to do. Not that I'm complaining; I could have 50 things to do with 20 minutes left. Don't get me wrong. I don't mind getting paid for my boredom. I just want the clock to move a little more quickly.
I should be writing. I'm working on a collection of short stories that I'm praying will be my big break. Right now, I'm almost halfway through the second draft of one of the stories. I'm a notoriously slow writer. I rewrite and rewrite about twelve times, until I can't stand to look at the story anymore. I think of myself as a good revisionist as opposed to a good writer.
Anyhow, I'm trying out a new writers' group on Monday. I'm excited. I get to socialize with writers other than myself. I tend to get bored of myself after a while. Look at me now, sitting here at my desk, desperate for someone else to talk to just for some entertainment. But I will finally meet some new writers next week. I'm also excited about meeting some new people in San Diego. My world here consists of my coworkers, sister, niece, and boyfriend. Don't get me wrong, I'm very happy with all of them, but I need social circle! It wouldn't be so bad if my man didn't live two hours way. Then we could see each other more than two days out of the week. But, things are as they are and I have to make do.
OK. I've killed a couple of minutes. That's progress...
How can I not completely bore you? See, writer's block gets me even when I'm just rambling. That's not a good sign. Just have to put one word in front of the other...
I just came up with a question. How many of us actually get to do with our lives what we want to? I know so many people who have told me, "I always wanted to..." Example: my ex always wanted to be an attorney, but is spending his career in the administrative part of the medical field. Why? I don't understand it. I guess I'm just too stubborn to understand working just to work. I know, I know. We all have to make a living, but why not do what we want to do with our lives? I feel like there's just something I'm not comprehending here. I could spend every day saying "I've always wanted to be a writer," but why when I could sit down and write? Am I making any sense?
One of my biggest fears in life has always been living a mediocre life. I don't mean I want to be famous (well, it wouldn't be a bad bonus), but I always knew I didn't just want to work a 9-5 for the rest of my life and die. I want to leave behind some kind of impression, you know? I want to be known for something. The way I see it, writing isn't just something I have a passion for and a passing skill at, but it's my ticket out of that bland life that I've always avoided. Maybe I'm being too flighty and idealistic. My mom keeps telling me, "You have to join the real world some time." But, why that real world? Just because I have big ambition doesn't mean I'm living in a fantasy. OK, now I'm arguing with her in my head.
This has been a problem for me, though. When I applied for grad school straight out of undergrad, my parents weren't happy. They wondered when I planned to "get a real job" and stop spending my life in school. But, the way I see it, I'm in different circumstances than they were back in the day. I don't have kids to raise; I don't have a house to make payments on. If I can take the opportunity to educate myself, why not? I suppose it's just a generational difference that's causing the friction there. But I refuse to live the 9-to-5-receive-your-pension-at-70-like-a-good-little-boy life. I'd be miserable. As it is, I realize at this job that this isn't for me. Granted, it's a good job and I like the people I work with and for. And the pay isn't bad (Lord knows that's a perk), but I also know that I don't want to be doing this same thing 5 years from now.
Am I asking too much? To actually be happy and fulfilled in this life and not just make a paycheck? I don't think so. I'll let y'all know how it turns out. For now, it's time to go home!
Thanks for keeping me company.
--Joseph
I should be writing. I'm working on a collection of short stories that I'm praying will be my big break. Right now, I'm almost halfway through the second draft of one of the stories. I'm a notoriously slow writer. I rewrite and rewrite about twelve times, until I can't stand to look at the story anymore. I think of myself as a good revisionist as opposed to a good writer.
Anyhow, I'm trying out a new writers' group on Monday. I'm excited. I get to socialize with writers other than myself. I tend to get bored of myself after a while. Look at me now, sitting here at my desk, desperate for someone else to talk to just for some entertainment. But I will finally meet some new writers next week. I'm also excited about meeting some new people in San Diego. My world here consists of my coworkers, sister, niece, and boyfriend. Don't get me wrong, I'm very happy with all of them, but I need social circle! It wouldn't be so bad if my man didn't live two hours way. Then we could see each other more than two days out of the week. But, things are as they are and I have to make do.
OK. I've killed a couple of minutes. That's progress...
How can I not completely bore you? See, writer's block gets me even when I'm just rambling. That's not a good sign. Just have to put one word in front of the other...
I just came up with a question. How many of us actually get to do with our lives what we want to? I know so many people who have told me, "I always wanted to..." Example: my ex always wanted to be an attorney, but is spending his career in the administrative part of the medical field. Why? I don't understand it. I guess I'm just too stubborn to understand working just to work. I know, I know. We all have to make a living, but why not do what we want to do with our lives? I feel like there's just something I'm not comprehending here. I could spend every day saying "I've always wanted to be a writer," but why when I could sit down and write? Am I making any sense?
One of my biggest fears in life has always been living a mediocre life. I don't mean I want to be famous (well, it wouldn't be a bad bonus), but I always knew I didn't just want to work a 9-5 for the rest of my life and die. I want to leave behind some kind of impression, you know? I want to be known for something. The way I see it, writing isn't just something I have a passion for and a passing skill at, but it's my ticket out of that bland life that I've always avoided. Maybe I'm being too flighty and idealistic. My mom keeps telling me, "You have to join the real world some time." But, why that real world? Just because I have big ambition doesn't mean I'm living in a fantasy. OK, now I'm arguing with her in my head.
This has been a problem for me, though. When I applied for grad school straight out of undergrad, my parents weren't happy. They wondered when I planned to "get a real job" and stop spending my life in school. But, the way I see it, I'm in different circumstances than they were back in the day. I don't have kids to raise; I don't have a house to make payments on. If I can take the opportunity to educate myself, why not? I suppose it's just a generational difference that's causing the friction there. But I refuse to live the 9-to-5-receive-your-pension-at-70-like-a-good-little-boy life. I'd be miserable. As it is, I realize at this job that this isn't for me. Granted, it's a good job and I like the people I work with and for. And the pay isn't bad (Lord knows that's a perk), but I also know that I don't want to be doing this same thing 5 years from now.
Am I asking too much? To actually be happy and fulfilled in this life and not just make a paycheck? I don't think so. I'll let y'all know how it turns out. For now, it's time to go home!
Thanks for keeping me company.
--Joseph
posted by Joseph at 4:39 PM
1 Comments:
"zodiacomparison"
'Back in the Day' you would have been hard pressed to complete your Bachelors, much less, shoot for a higher level degree than that. In a Civil Right course I'm taking this semester, we read Felix Longoria's Wake, an account of a soldier of Mexican descent who died fighting in WWII, but was denied a proper wake at a church in his hometown (located in Texas), because 'the Whites wouldn't like it'. The book highlighted a number of hardships for educated minorities of the time, including the story of a Mexican pre-med student, who couldn't get residency at a majority of the hospitals, because of his race. Given that your parents grew up (as mine did) during that period, I'd expect that they would remember, & be proud of how far you have come - especially given that higher level degrees mean the potential for greater independence and responsibility once you get into that "real world."
The more I read the more I'm struck by similarities. LEGITIMATE astrologists know what the hell they're doing.
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