Losing My Religion

This post is supposed to be about losing the will to write. Why am I saying this upfront? Because I wanted to tell the punch line first.

I haven't wanted to write. I've been weary. I had this idea, and wanted to fill this post out more, but it just wasn't happening.

You know the old saying, "Do what you love?" I was going to give you a very smartly written account of how this only works in theory, and then refute the argument by presenting another point of view, and then reconcile the post with a so-called moral of the story.

But I've decided ... I just don't wanna.

Instead, I will say this. Something happened at work. It really wasn't that terrible. Just regular work stuff.

But I guess I was in a bad enough mood because, for just a moment, it did make me wonder why anyone would bother seeking a match for their interests to some type of career to find a job they're good at when the work will only become marred and tainted by ... well, whatever it is which spoils and stains what people fundamentally believe in.

And, for just a moment, it did feel like having my heart ripped out of my chest, boiled in a big pot on the stove and then handed to me - no longer some raw, delicate organ but an overcooked, rough piece of meat so rubbery and tough you could hit it with a baseball bat and it wouldn't even make a dent.

I will admit that I am worn out. Tired. Needing a professionally motivated pick-me-up. And still grouchy enough that, in this moment, I feel infinitely happier to bitch and complain rather than be stupidly perky and optimistic. I think I'm obligated enough to be positive during the day that I'll be damned if I'm going to do it here and now.

Funnily enough, things are fine. I guess I did want to write ... it just had to be about nothing.

Don't worry. Good stuff to come later.