On Worrying

Dear J—

There are, potentially, a million things you could worry about, from what’s going to happen on the show next to what you’ll end up doing with your kids tonight; I get home and it’s nice to empty my head but at the same time not too empty, not too much. I wonder about what I’m supposed to be doing and I’ve already done and whether I’ve done it right (and judging by the errors that I’ve put in, no). A system of careful double checks works only because there’s nothing left to check; my goal is to leave nothing to be corrected, although the comments I put forth aren’t necessarily meant to be … I dunno. At the moment I suppose I’m just losing confidence in what I do and how I go about it.

The listening, of other people, listening to me, that’s not necessarily going so well. The communication, of me making myself understood, that’s not great either. I spend a good portion of my day subsuming what I want in favor of others and that’s okay, honestly, but it’s also not. I show my selfishness in other ways, like buying stuff I don’t really need or that costs more than the mythical decadecabuck (that’s not a centibuck, c’mon, maybe a deci-kilobuck?) that I establish as a good practice in my head. I can live with that. We’re paying our taxes; all the extra money we make goes into the pot we’re assembling for Uncle Sam and the Franchise Tax Board. I get that. We’re happy to pay because it means we’re making enough.

Moving to the Bay Area has meant a fresh set of worries and fears with respect to what I’m supposed to know and demonstrate on a regular basis. Do I even … ? What about … ? There’s a thousand different ways we are supposed to charge our time and I have trouble sorting it out in my head, to say nothing of the thousand different projects I’m doing and going and trying to work through and yeah, everyone has these worries. Is this enough? Should I be happy with enough, or should I want more? I’m deliriously happy with it, except when I’m not and I feel I might burst with all the I-wants in the world. In the end it’s this: Can I do more? and if I can’t why haven’t I?

Mike

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