What We Live For . . .
is not an endless torrent of calls, one caller with a thousand names and twenty-odd requests, hours of doing the same thing that might help the members, but doesn't feel like it is building anything permanent. It doesn't feel productive; it doesn't feel creative.
I'm caught in this state of mind where I am feeling less than productive, not in the sense of not getting work done, but in a more general sense. It's hard to pinpoint the root cause of this dissatisfaction. I believe in the principles of credit unions, but right now, even knowing how important money is to this society, and therefore knowing that what I do helps the members, that doesn't feel like enough. I think I'm really starting to feel the first cracks in the illusion of immortality, not just in the sense of growing old or not, but in the sense of life staying constant, with the same people populating the same roles and functions that orbit my perception of the universe.
My life is a good one, with many fulfilling and rich aspects: a girlfriend I've been dating 66% longer than my last (and okay, first) girlfriend; good friends who live near, some who are moving nearer; family; the city of San Francisco, the ocean, wildflowers on Mount Diablo, the redwood grove in Golden Gate Park. Nevertheless, I need to do something; I'm just not sure what 'doing something' means.
Up to now, of course, I have defined 'doing something' as writing, which may or may not hold true for the rest of my life, but it is a good foundation.
Writing. I would love to say that I write profound stuff that takes the blank page of the reader's soul, crumples it up, then flattens it back out as best one can, leaving the page almost the same as before, but with interesting crinkles of nuance and feeling. Or something much less pompous of an image.
I've been trying for some time to write short stories on a set schedule, but it does not appear to be happening. I apply pressure where it isn't needed. So for now, I'm going to start simply, a resolution to write 250 words a day. No further guidelines, no demands for brilliance.
We'll see where that goes. In the meantime, I've finished my writing requirement for today. Time to listen to the rest of the Giants game on the radio.
I'm caught in this state of mind where I am feeling less than productive, not in the sense of not getting work done, but in a more general sense. It's hard to pinpoint the root cause of this dissatisfaction. I believe in the principles of credit unions, but right now, even knowing how important money is to this society, and therefore knowing that what I do helps the members, that doesn't feel like enough. I think I'm really starting to feel the first cracks in the illusion of immortality, not just in the sense of growing old or not, but in the sense of life staying constant, with the same people populating the same roles and functions that orbit my perception of the universe.
My life is a good one, with many fulfilling and rich aspects: a girlfriend I've been dating 66% longer than my last (and okay, first) girlfriend; good friends who live near, some who are moving nearer; family; the city of San Francisco, the ocean, wildflowers on Mount Diablo, the redwood grove in Golden Gate Park. Nevertheless, I need to do something; I'm just not sure what 'doing something' means.
Up to now, of course, I have defined 'doing something' as writing, which may or may not hold true for the rest of my life, but it is a good foundation.
Writing. I would love to say that I write profound stuff that takes the blank page of the reader's soul, crumples it up, then flattens it back out as best one can, leaving the page almost the same as before, but with interesting crinkles of nuance and feeling. Or something much less pompous of an image.
I've been trying for some time to write short stories on a set schedule, but it does not appear to be happening. I apply pressure where it isn't needed. So for now, I'm going to start simply, a resolution to write 250 words a day. No further guidelines, no demands for brilliance.
We'll see where that goes. In the meantime, I've finished my writing requirement for today. Time to listen to the rest of the Giants game on the radio.
Labels: creativity, life, productivity, satisfaction, writing
posted by Devin at 8:29 PM
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