Work Break #1

Anticipating no sleep for work is like asking to be distracted, to be taken away--

I am in the middle of an Excel worksheet, work I usually like, work that can usually consume my focus so completely, I forget where and when I am, like I am alone in the world and I don't mind it. I am in the middle of numbers and figures and I realize I am interpreting data that probably no one else has before, and I think to myself--If I write this up into a report perhaps I can submit it for publication, instead of condensing it into a presentation for the purposes of my work. And I think about it: I've done the research, I have the data, if I can analyze these into bullet points, then surely I can stretch it out, can't I? And I can submit it to a journal and should it get published, surely I can add that to my resume?

But this is not what I want to write.

Every hour or so into this work, I take a little break. Maybe light a cigarette, or drink my coffee-gone-cold, or get a glass of water. But always, I open this book I've decided to re-read for the nth time, read a chapter or so. And every time I say to myself, this is how I want to write. This is what I want to sound like when I write. And this tone now, this one I employ--too earnest, pleading, whiney even--this is not that tone.

I remember once I was on vacation in San Joaquin with some friends. We woke up at dawn to go to the beach, where the waves were like stone walls rolling towards the shore. I wanted to go for a swim, but everything that morning was hard: the light was a stone grey like slate, the wind cold, the beach full of rocks. And the barreling waves that despite all that want, that earnestness earned me nothing: I ended up sprawled, wet, defeated on the shore.

I think back to my favorite authors now, characters even, and I realize they are all men, macho men at that. And this is what I want to sound like? I am aghast, but this is true: Stripped of drama, pleading, hurt. Or at least, stripped of the wallowing such that everything becomes fact. This happened because of that. Consequence. A to B in a straight line, and detours may pretty it up a bit, but here. This is where you end up. Start to finish uncomplicated. If I follow this procedure precisely and I can predict the result. Like science.

And look at me now: Whether I took the time to write this, or decided to sleep the rest of the morning before Monday officially starts, or finished the book, the result is the same. I will have to deliver a presentation at 5pm tomorrow. And I will deliver it because I have to, and I know myself well enough that I will. Whether or not I will be proud of my work will obviously vary directly with the amount of time I have spent on it. But that is my story from now until then. A to B, and nowhere else to go.

No, I am not talking about fate, or destiny or karma. And no, this is not making me sad, or angry. This, I realize, is why I've always loved science. That precision and straight-forwardness. The following of rules the order of the day, guiltless. And not having to look for anything else, even escape.

There I was. Now I am here. And my break is over.