Art of Growing Old

I can vaguely remember a time when I didn’t have a fairly detailed plan for the next five years of my life. However, the details are a bit foggy because I think I was more concerned with playing at recess with the other members of my 2nd grade class. Come on, seriously, everyone that’s ever met me knew that I would be doing “something with computers”.

As I grew older, I began to realize that I had a natural ability to assume leadership positions. That’s not to say that I was very good at leading, but I at least had that natural gift of assuming the responsibilities. More importantly, it was something that I quickly began to love to do. Whether we were planning a weekend outing or beginning to form the basis for what would eventually become a team of gifted software developers, I seemed to always be guiding the decisions.

My college experience quickly humbled me and forced me to learn the disciplines behind leadership and the importance of particular aspects of it that I had completely neglected. At the end of my college career, I had gained valuable experience that had formed the exact description of my dream job. I knew my strengths, I knew my weaknesses, and I was ready to leverage them to do my job to the best of my ability. The passion that I have for this work is what defines me as a person. When I graduated, I was ready to finally release my full potential. I was ready to truly give it my all and see what I could do.

You see, this wasn’t something that came out of nowhere. I tried my best to postpone the inevitable but really, you can only be so effective in doing so. No, this has been building up for months now. Three months ago I started a journey that lead me here. I’m away from everything I’ve ever known and wondering how I could have let it go so far.

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It was slowly starting to all come together in my mind. The important thing I was starting to realize was that despite it making sense, it was not acceptable. Time was moving and I was standing still. A week went by and I forgot to miss it. I was beginning to have more difficulty sleeping and I felt myself changing. The frustrations were growing and the people close to me were hearing about it. I was three weeks into my adventure and I sat down to write the following:

When you cross me with Corporate America…

It results in an oddly formed, restricted, ambitious employee who flirts with mediocrity and over-achievements on a daily basis.

It becomes a struggle to maintain consistency. I am awarded for my efforts and restricted by an attempt to maintain a general system of conformity. Every step is then only a small piece of a well-calculated plan. You can’t blame it. You can’t fight it. You can only learn and abide by the rules - even if it is only to change them.

Work cannot be given quickly enough to keep me busy. I actively search for new assignments and began finding ways to evolve processes. However, each request for approval or information is met with yet another delay. For all you fellow Neumont-mates, I’m beginning to think that we’re too prepared. I’m used to a constant stream of work. Who would have thought that it gets easier?

This is where my life is today. I suppose I’m not one that can remain idle for very long. I need evolution and I need change. Perhaps I’ll be rewarded for this.

It felt good to vent but there was a new feeling. What if the wrong people read this? I had never once felt that fear and I immediately regretted it. Suddenly I realized that I was the result I had just described and it wasn’t who I wanted to be. I needed to get in touch my roots, I needed to drive change, and I needed to start writing a lot more.

A month passed by before I wrote my next entry and I did nothing to stop it.

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Have you ever lost a month? I’m calling it the month of defeat. Absolutely nothing came out of that month. I didn’t write and I don’t recall communicating with very many people. I attempted to adopt new routines but none of them stuck. Even the insomnia started to take over.

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I was approaching the two month mark of employment and I had nothing to show for it. The apparent loss of a month had completely corrupted my progress in identifying the underlying problem. It was another lonely Saturday evening and I sat down to write:

I feel lost. Those simple words contain more meaning and fear than any that I have spoke in the last few years of my life. It seems as though there are too many things keeping me from moving forward at the rate that I want. Professionally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. When I don’t write about these things, I don’t internalize them. Instead, they float around and plague me with despair and I typically have no idea what is wrong with me.

I’m not sure what it is. Maybe it’s the overwhelming sensation that I don’t belong here as much as I once thought I did.

Everything is a distraction.
I’ve had so many that I don’t even remember what it is I was first trying to do.

It was all starting to sink in and I would soon find myself truly starting to fight.