Today I wrote to a friend again.
Not that I haven't typed messages to people. Not that I haven't picked up the phone and communicated intentions, asked about another's well-being, or described my situation in an opaque but bright-sided manner. Today I wrote, replied, to a friend's due message since 9 days ago. And I did those things too. I wished her well, I told her I was well, and I presented my situation in a shinier light than I feel in raw form.
But then at the end, I typed what I really felt.
After deliberating on the structure and sense of each petty phrase for five or six paragraphs (not unlike I do now), in that last paragraph my fingers went loose and I saw a small glimpse... a short escape of breath from my true feelings, a tiny release of emotion that triggered just enough inside of me to want to do something about it.
Just the tiniest bit. After telling her "things are great!". "Yeah, great!", "I'm excited!", I stated out, in much gentler terms:
I'M FREAKING WORKING MYSELF TO EXHAUSTION EVERY WEEK JUST BECAUSE WORKING AT GOOGLE WAS A DREAM I ONCE FELT UNACHIEVABLE AND NOW THAT I HAVE IT I FEEL UNWILLING TO GIVE IT UP. AND I KNOW THAT I WILL NOT BE HAPPY CONTINUING TO WORK THERE IN THE LONG RUN, BUT I NEED TO FREAKING ACHIEVE A SQUARE-SIZED GOAL, FINISH UP A SIGNIFICANT-ENOUGH PROJECT, THAT I FEEL I BUILT SOMETHING USEFUL AND HAVE NOT COMPLETELY WASTED MY TIME FOR THE PAST FEW YEARS. TIME IS PLENTIFUL, BUT IT ESCAPES AS FAST AS EACH DAY IS ROUTINELY, AND I DO NOT WANT A ROUTINE ENGINEERING LIFE. BUT QUITTING EARLY WOULD BE ANALOGOUS TO QUITTING SCHOOL BEFORE GETTING A DEGREE. A CLEAR CHECKPOINT WOULD HELP ME COMPLETELY DETACH FROM MY URGE TO BE A USEFUL CODER, AND THAT'S WHAT I SEEK. BUT I SO MISS THE TRAVELING AND THE DREAMS AND THE MUSIC AND THE DANCE AND THE COLORS AND THE SKY AND THE WIND AND THE PEOPLE AND THE LAUGHTER AND THE SQUIRRELS AND THE CRAYONS AND THE RUNNING AND THE RAIN AND THE RAW AND THE TRUE AND THE SIMPLE.
Of course I can always go seek them. Of course, I assume that they are "there, somewhere", and so "achieving" them is not a challenge. But the difference between the potential and the realized is... well, everything really. Nothing is unless it is.
Coding brings me that same pleasure I get when I finish a game level, or when I manage to fit in more events into my day than it apparently had room for. That pleasure of achievement. Perhaps better described as a kind of closure. Or an ego pat.
But the others are..... nothing has ever made me feel the same way before. Not personal ego, not achievement... but simply being. BEING. Amazing being. Silver and golden peace spreading through my torso and legs, soothing every corner that accepts its subtleness. Only in the subtle are secrets told. And oh what secrets! Unholdable, I imagine, but my soul remembers them. And it often asks me for them, like a child: "When are we going to feel the wind again?" And my automated mind crust already knows to answer: "We will... later... I just have finish this thing..."...
I know that could continue forever. I know I will not let it. Nevertheless, I cringe a little, and my ego incrusts itself a little deeper, every time I choose to extend it. And that is how I felt.
Thank you for being, friend :)
Not that I haven't typed messages to people. Not that I haven't picked up the phone and communicated intentions, asked about another's well-being, or described my situation in an opaque but bright-sided manner. Today I wrote, replied, to a friend's due message since 9 days ago. And I did those things too. I wished her well, I told her I was well, and I presented my situation in a shinier light than I feel in raw form.
But then at the end, I typed what I really felt.
After deliberating on the structure and sense of each petty phrase for five or six paragraphs (not unlike I do now), in that last paragraph my fingers went loose and I saw a small glimpse... a short escape of breath from my true feelings, a tiny release of emotion that triggered just enough inside of me to want to do something about it.
Just the tiniest bit. After telling her "things are great!". "Yeah, great!", "I'm excited!", I stated out, in much gentler terms:
I'M FREAKING WORKING MYSELF TO EXHAUSTION EVERY WEEK JUST BECAUSE WORKING AT GOOGLE WAS A DREAM I ONCE FELT UNACHIEVABLE AND NOW THAT I HAVE IT I FEEL UNWILLING TO GIVE IT UP. AND I KNOW THAT I WILL NOT BE HAPPY CONTINUING TO WORK THERE IN THE LONG RUN, BUT I NEED TO FREAKING ACHIEVE A SQUARE-SIZED GOAL, FINISH UP A SIGNIFICANT-ENOUGH PROJECT, THAT I FEEL I BUILT SOMETHING USEFUL AND HAVE NOT COMPLETELY WASTED MY TIME FOR THE PAST FEW YEARS. TIME IS PLENTIFUL, BUT IT ESCAPES AS FAST AS EACH DAY IS ROUTINELY, AND I DO NOT WANT A ROUTINE ENGINEERING LIFE. BUT QUITTING EARLY WOULD BE ANALOGOUS TO QUITTING SCHOOL BEFORE GETTING A DEGREE. A CLEAR CHECKPOINT WOULD HELP ME COMPLETELY DETACH FROM MY URGE TO BE A USEFUL CODER, AND THAT'S WHAT I SEEK. BUT I SO MISS THE TRAVELING AND THE DREAMS AND THE MUSIC AND THE DANCE AND THE COLORS AND THE SKY AND THE WIND AND THE PEOPLE AND THE LAUGHTER AND THE SQUIRRELS AND THE CRAYONS AND THE RUNNING AND THE RAIN AND THE RAW AND THE TRUE AND THE SIMPLE.
Of course I can always go seek them. Of course, I assume that they are "there, somewhere", and so "achieving" them is not a challenge. But the difference between the potential and the realized is... well, everything really. Nothing is unless it is.
Coding brings me that same pleasure I get when I finish a game level, or when I manage to fit in more events into my day than it apparently had room for. That pleasure of achievement. Perhaps better described as a kind of closure. Or an ego pat.
But the others are..... nothing has ever made me feel the same way before. Not personal ego, not achievement... but simply being. BEING. Amazing being. Silver and golden peace spreading through my torso and legs, soothing every corner that accepts its subtleness. Only in the subtle are secrets told. And oh what secrets! Unholdable, I imagine, but my soul remembers them. And it often asks me for them, like a child: "When are we going to feel the wind again?" And my automated mind crust already knows to answer: "We will... later... I just have finish this thing..."...
I know that could continue forever. I know I will not let it. Nevertheless, I cringe a little, and my ego incrusts itself a little deeper, every time I choose to extend it. And that is how I felt.
Thank you for being, friend :)
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