I love my job. I don’t mean my “writing” job that I do at home after my day job. I mean I love my plain, old work-a-day job. And I’m coming to discover that’s a problem. I know, right? Aren’t we supposed to do what we love? None of the meme-ified Hallmark sentiments hint at a downside, but they sure are there. I wasn’t prepared for what having an actual, full-on career would do to me.
I find myself tempted to define myself by my job. I love it, I work hard at it, and I spend at least 40 hours a week doing it. My work successes are personal successes. But my work failures (or even mild setbacks) are also personal. It’s hard to roll with the punches when I feel them like a physical pain in my gut. Things won’t always go right and I feel those downturns reflect on me as a person – there’s no such thing as “it’s just business” for me.
Sometimes it’s hard to roll with the pats on the back, too. Since I love my job, I want to share it with everybody. Yet everybody hears me crowing about things that sound suspiciously like work. Dull, boring work. And for those who aren’t my co-workers, I’m pretty sure it comes out sounding like “blah, blah, blah, tech stuff I heard mentioned on the news once, blah, blah, blah.” I’m that guy talking about TPS report at a party. Not that I get invited to parties after I trot out the exciting TPS report discussion.
Come to think of it, no one likes it when I talk about writing at a party, either.
So I don’t need to get a life. Apparently, I have one. What I need is to step away from the keyboard and stop having such a good life for a few hours. Maybe watch some TV, or go see a movie. OK, go see a movie that isn’t part of the franchise that defined my childhood. Or I could go see the new Star Wars movie again. Yes – I should go see Rogue One again! If I promise to talk about Rogue One, then can I be invited to a party?
I guess it’s back to work.