the breakdown

I’m in full on brain lock mode. Depression, deep dissatisfaction with the current state of my life and an absolute uncertainty about what’s even possible in the future have me essentially shutting down.

I hate technology. I mean, I’m not a luddite or anything, though I feel like maybe we should all be a little more luddite these days. I work in IT.

And I hate technology.

It certainly has wonderful uses. I like the functionality of computers and smart phones (though sometimes, the smart phone thing is a little too much) and the way The Last Of Us looks on my Playstation is incredible.

But I hate working with it. I have no desire to keep “updating my skills”, especially when I know that most “updates” in technology are bullshit to sell more gear or subscriptions or whatever. Most software only ever becomes bloatware, and loses its core functions as time goes on (see Facebook’s awful algorithm or Twitter’s semi-monthly attempts to force the HOME feature no one wants on its users).

Sometimes, things are fine the way they are and simplicity is almost always the best choice.

I have no passion for this type of work, not for a long, long time. I fell into it as a teenager and kid, because it was the cool, cutting edge thing at the time, but I have always wanted to be an artist (writing/drawing/music). I’m just not enough of a hustler to do it and beyond writing, I’m too old and too busy to develop the skills to excel at anything else.

I need a month off to get my shit straight, but instead, I’m working the job of five people, doing work I hate with people I don’t particularly care for (and some recent subtractions I absolutely hated). When the hell do I get to slack and figure it out? It’s not like I can go back in time and be fifteen again.

It’s not like I was even able to make that choice at fifteen. If there’s one feature of our culture that pisses me off, it’s that we expect children, most of whom have no concept of what the real world or work is like yet, and who barely know themselves (if they do at all), to decide what they want to do for the rest of their days at such young ages.

How well does that ever work out?

I’ll tell you, as a forty-four year old who wants nothing more than to go “find himself” and go back to school for something he actually might want to do… pretty well never.

Target: 300 words
Written: 1609 words, hip little story: Get Back Again

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