The One Where I Jump Around

I am alone in the department tonight, and things are very quiet. I’m searching through old cases, deciding who can be called in the middle of the night and who needs an e-mail. It is methodical work, and the rhythm is somehow sustaining. As I’m starting this, it’s about 2:30 AM, and the next person does not arrive for four hours. In a way, I miss the human contact of coworkers, but at the same time, it’s nice to be able to work at my own buzzsaw pace.

The work is repetitive enough that I start to wander through my own valley of vulnerability, and wonder what it will take to get me to open up to the outside world. I feel like I have been isolating a lot… partly due to my schedule and partly due to feeling overwhelmed in a way that I can’t place. I haven’t been to a psychiatrist since I’ve been in town, so that’s probably my next move. I want to make sure it’s nothing physical before I decide whether this new mood is just me continuing to move in the world like Tall. Mustache. Fishing Hat.

For those of you just now joining us, Tall. Mustache. Fishing Hat. was an alias I used for an old grouch at my first Al-anon meeting. He just had no qualms whatsoever revealing his inner asshole. He knew he was a douchebag, and that didn’t seem to affect anything except the amount of laughter he got during his share. In fact, that was the take-home message for me. You can be as flawed as you want to be if you couch it in uproarious humor.

Right now I feel like the love child of Louis C.K. and Oscar the Grouch. As in, it’s amazing the thousands of fucks I don’t give. I have my work, and I have Dana. Beyond that, I’m not sure what to do with myself, although I want to try. I approach it with the best of intentions. I want to be social. I want to do stuff. You know, in that ideal perfect world where when I get home from work I want to do stuff and I have enough energy to see it through.

I’ve even been missing from choir for the last few weeks because it is a ROUGH HAUL going to rehearsal before work and church afterwards. It’s like this Twilight Zone of emotion. I want to be there. I feel like a zombie. I need to rehearse. I need to sleep… and on and on and on until I realize I have deliberated so long it’s already started and I go back to bed, wishing I could be in two places at once. I love my conductor and I miss him so much. If only choir could meet in my living room. I would be all about that.

In other news, I’m getting better at bash scripting and coding in Python. That may not mean much to you, but it means a ton of money if I actually move into a programming role down the line. I used to think that coding was the wrong career path for me because it limited my contact with other people. Then I turned 30, and I realized I’d had enough of customer service to last my whole entire life. I did it anyway, because of course, I was paid to do it. I was also very good at it, which made all the difference. Though it wasn’t challenging, it was satisfying to press one button and have people think that I had done some voodoo magic on their computers.

Programming is a different type of thinking; it has its own syntax and grammar that once painstakingly learned, can be applied in all computer languages and not just one. As it turns out, there are lots of ways to say “if that happens, do this.” In fact, there are almost as many programming languages as there are verbal languages in which to swear when your programs don’t run.

The first thing I’m going to build is a text editor that can write my blog entries for me and just e-mail me when they’re done. šŸ™‚

One thought on “The One Where I Jump Around

  1. You’ve had decades of being Leslie and it’s still mind boggling. How on earth would a simple text editor manage? Then you’d have to find a therapist for your text editor, right? Ooo – maybe you could keep writing, send the text editor to therapy, and read the synopsis it generates. (I think I need to get some sleep now.) (Keep writing) ((…))

    Like

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