This is one of those days where my mind wanders and I cannot focus. I would rather be editing, would rather be reading, would rather be doing anything else than my day job. There's just this need to move or absorb or feel electrified by words on a page. I feel like I could be doing something that is infinitely more productive and worthwhile than this.
What do I do? I am a claims analyst for a bankruptcy receivership. What that really means? I look at documents, crunch numbers and send out reams of paper. As a day job it's not horrible, all things being equal. I like my co-workers, and I guess I do believe that somewhere along the line I do make a difference to someone. I've definitely had worse.
I strongly ascribe to the idea that I work for myself first and foremost. What I do is part of who I am, whether it's a good day or a bad day. I am not the contents of my wallet...but I find that I strongly like to have discretionary income. People that know me even a little know that I am a self-described workaholic. That -holism seems to have deserted me, at least today in this office; this space and time. I would rather be almost anywhere else doing almost anything else than listen to the drone of the phone and the chugging of the printers. It feels small and dense and heavy and foreign. My skin is prickling with the weight of fighting off the urge to flee.
But back to the real point: I can't focus on anything for more than a minute or two without being interrupted by someone's noise or need or necessity. And when it comes down to it I keep asking myself over and over what the point of it all really is.
I dared to ask an author that I had no ties to at all if I could edit his book in May, because an editor is what I want to be when I grow up. It's reasonable, even attainable. It's not like I want to be an astronaut or play for the NBA.
So why do I keep distracting myself? I know what the goal is, why not just give in and focus on that wholly? There are people that have helped me and supported me and that have helped and supported the authors that I have edited for. They will continue to do so whether I spend 40 hours a week doing something that is almost exactly not like editing or not.
When I say I can't focus I mean it. I have a current editing project that I cannot pour myself into for whatever reason (genre might have something to do with it), and I think part of the issue is that I don't have anything lined up to follow it. I don't want to not be an editor...and not having another project means, somehow, that I'm not one. Silly? Perhaps. Welcome to my brain.
What do I do? I am a claims analyst for a bankruptcy receivership. What that really means? I look at documents, crunch numbers and send out reams of paper. As a day job it's not horrible, all things being equal. I like my co-workers, and I guess I do believe that somewhere along the line I do make a difference to someone. I've definitely had worse.
I strongly ascribe to the idea that I work for myself first and foremost. What I do is part of who I am, whether it's a good day or a bad day. I am not the contents of my wallet...but I find that I strongly like to have discretionary income. People that know me even a little know that I am a self-described workaholic. That -holism seems to have deserted me, at least today in this office; this space and time. I would rather be almost anywhere else doing almost anything else than listen to the drone of the phone and the chugging of the printers. It feels small and dense and heavy and foreign. My skin is prickling with the weight of fighting off the urge to flee.
But back to the real point: I can't focus on anything for more than a minute or two without being interrupted by someone's noise or need or necessity. And when it comes down to it I keep asking myself over and over what the point of it all really is.
I dared to ask an author that I had no ties to at all if I could edit his book in May, because an editor is what I want to be when I grow up. It's reasonable, even attainable. It's not like I want to be an astronaut or play for the NBA.
So why do I keep distracting myself? I know what the goal is, why not just give in and focus on that wholly? There are people that have helped me and supported me and that have helped and supported the authors that I have edited for. They will continue to do so whether I spend 40 hours a week doing something that is almost exactly not like editing or not.
When I say I can't focus I mean it. I have a current editing project that I cannot pour myself into for whatever reason (genre might have something to do with it), and I think part of the issue is that I don't have anything lined up to follow it. I don't want to not be an editor...and not having another project means, somehow, that I'm not one. Silly? Perhaps. Welcome to my brain.
