I do like work, as I’ve alluded to before. Sometimes I can get too much of a good thing, which I’ve also alluded to before. This week was no different.

The last month or so I’ve been surrounded. People around me are suggesting that I should seek some small opportunity for myself in the part-time, work from home, start your own business arena. It is a subject that comes up every so often, and it has been particularly furious recently. The trouble is, it does sound appealing. In my fantasies, I see myself in some idyllic country setting, the only connection to the world being my high-speed connection to the internet, working from home and making a city living in a rural setting. Here’s the trouble: I don’t believe what everyone is selling – the idea that I have something that people are willing to buy. The media is full of stories about people that believed in themselves and in their idea, and through shear force of will brought their dreams to fruition. So where does that leave me? Here’s another problem: people keep telling me what wonderful work I do. Comments like, “you missed your calling John”, are driving me crazy. Why is it so preposterous to assume that I’ve found my calling precisely. The work that I do I do well, and like all good coworkers, I think I make my cohorts at work better. Just because I fill my niche well … does that mean that I’m destined for better? What’s better? I like my job. I think I do my job well. I love my family. I have time every day to be the first one in our small family to see my daughter’s smiling face just as she is about to be sprung from school. I have time to be the one to spend quality time with her, one on one, as we wind down from another day, and make the mundane chores of everyday life the glue in our bond as father and daughter. I have the time to be patient, I have the time to express my love, and I have the time to receive it in return. Just what is wrong with that? I’ve been asking myself that question a lot lately. Am I trying to convince myself of something?

It’s two hours until quitting time. Do you know where your clock is?
Yes.

Did I mention where I’ve found the time to write this? Well, it’s 4:05 pm, and I’m sitting in a doctor’s office. I’m sitting here waiting to see if I’ll have a reaction to my allergy shots. I can be a little uptight about some things, and having a reaction to medication is one of those things. So, just imagine what it does when the nurses tell me to wait around 20 minutes to wait and see if I’ll have a reaction. Let’s just say that I need some distraction. If I think about it long enough, I can convince myself that I’m having some kind of reaction – and I can be creative. Writing these entries has served to meet this need. At the same time, a crowded doctor’s waiting room is not exactly the best place to unleash the creative juices. I’m dry enough as it is. Just what is an aspiring hypochondriac and talentless hack to do?

Ten minutes down, Ten to go.
I’m trying to thing of something interesting to say, but nothing comes to mind. Maybe I’ll try a game.