I am tired.
I am tired. I would say that I’ve never been this tired, but a tired memory is faulty and it’s all relative anyway. I don’t need sleep, though, I need rest. Rest has always been elusive to me. There is always something more to do. There is always work left. There are always notifications unread, email left unresponded, phone calls unreturned. I am tired.
I am afraid. I am afraid to open my inbox. I’m afraid of the requests there that will derail my day; my day where I’m already filling my todo list with catch-up work that was supposed to be done months ago. I’m afraid of the things that I used to be excited about. I worry I’ll actually win that new client. I am scared of how much that new project will balloon beyond the time allotted, eating into my evenings and weekends, canceling trips and vacations, again, until it’s all just one great blur, again, again. I’m scared that I’m too empty to be creative, and being creative is what I get paid to do. I’m afraid I missed something—something critical in an ever-changing industry where a slight pause, a slight in-breath, places me immediately behind the trend, on the wrong side of the technology. I am afraid.
I am apathetic. I don’t care about my own hype anymore. My work isn’t that great. Your’s isn’t either, and I’m not really paying attention. I am no longer earnest. To be earnest one must believe they are making a difference or solving a worthwhile problem. Instead, I can’t shake the feeling that the vast majority of my work ceases to exist scarce moments after it is completed. It rarely lingers as long as it took to create. I release it and watch it fold back into the digital ether as the servers are erased and reconfigured, one-by-one. And I no longer care. I can’t get excited about impermanence and planned obsolescence. It is too insignificant. I am too insignificant. I think I want to participate in changing, molding, and shaping the industry I am a part of, but my actions betray me. I am apathetic.
I am trying. No, really, I am. I do not like the status quo, I do not like my current position or the fears and weariness that have created the framework around my career and life. But the hole I’ve dug for myself is so great. The deficit that needs to be repaid doesn’t even have a comprehensible tally. The old values and patterns are like a mistakenly-held faith: intellectually invalid, but emotionally-true nonetheless—savagely-comforting whenever I let my guard down. And when I am tired, it is hard to keep my guard up. And I am tired. I am tired, but I am trying.
wet Ross is wet.
american fabric co.
Had a meeting at BMoCA today. Can’t wait for this new project to launch.