oi, how it does carry on.
21 Feb 2007 02:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kaigouThe thing is, I've realized over the past month that I truly dislike working from home. Not in the sense of "every now and then", and hardly in the sense of "because I can't seem to get displined enough to do work" -- it's that I resent the fact that work is here, in my space, in the first place.
This makes me cranky, and then I get avoidant, and it's just all up from there. I dislike sitting at my own desk and thinking, in another room, there's another computer, with a miserable-for-work setup that's barely adequate, with horrible lighting and not enough desk space and I can feel it, down the hall, waiting for me. I want to come home and know that work has been left behind. I don't like avoiding an entire room in my house as though in doing so I can avoid the guilty "I should be working" feeling. When I am home, I do not want guilt!
So naturally after about two weeks of nothing from work -- other than the time I can scrape together to bill, for general stuff -- now there's a meeting tomorrow morning and another on Friday, and it's only by some luck of the universe that neither conflicts with the appointments I really don't want to/can't miss -- one of which is an interview. Somehow my resume worked its way through a state agency's lanes (same agency as where I interviewed two weeks ago, incidentally; I think they recently got a large grant and are beefing up their iT folks) ended up on the CIO's desk (chief information officer, for the non-acronym folk on my flist), and although I had applied for a different position, this manager wanted to know if I'd apply for his; he, and the CIO, thought it'd be straight up my alley.
This is the sort of thing I hear happening to other people, but never to me. I was, to say the least, absolutely gobsmacked. I mean, to call me up, tell me about the job, and ask me if I would please apply (agency and HR regs, had to have The Application Properly Done), here's the job #, and here's my phone #, and my email, and please drop a line when I've sent in the application so the manager can contact HR and make sure the app gets to him, the position only opened a few days ago, here's more details, etc, etc. Wow. I mean, it's nice to be wanted, but that was above and beyond anything I'd expected. When I got home that afternoon, after promising the mgr I'd email him when I'd sent it in, already there was an email waiting for me with his information again, just in case, and to please let him know, etc., etc.
It takes time to go through HR, there's the assurances about contract-employee rates (which this mgr gets points for asking that *before* the interview, giving me time to marshal an answer), and we did the mandatory email-exchanges until tomorrow had been set up as the interview time; it's the earliest everyone can be in the same room. Meanwhile, I carry on with contracting, which is to say: I do nothing but check email in the morning, see nothing, and go about my business -- even if right now that seems to consist mostly of feeling pretty crummy. On the plus side, the prospect of working in an office does create a major impetus to finish some of the projects around the house. It's not like I'll have all day to do it, if I'm elsewhere for nine or more hours daily. I've still not figured out how I'll wrap up the contract, but I've no interest in ruining one thing until the other is certain.
In writing news, there's nothing. I printed GTMD to take with me to Cali, and never touched it; I don't know when I expected to work on it (the plane?) but just had no motivation. It's strange, but it's like I have to get a space large enough, push away all the things clamoring for attention in my life...
I think of it like this: my mental headspace is a large theatre. During times when my mind's not that clear, or I've a lot of unfinished tasks on my plate, the stage looks like someone emptied the props room, and maybe two or three of the coat closets and the mop-closet, all onto the stage. I could put my characters up there to go through their paces, but two steps in any direction and they'd fall over something from a different task or job. There's no room for them to stretch out and tell their story, not when they're hemmed in by all the other things I should be doing or finishing or starting, etc. I need to clear out the mental space for them, and until then, I can't tackle revisions, and the problem is that my internal stage has become so littered in the past month that I feel paralyzed as to how I should even start.
It's a lot like the process of cleaning your room, as a kid: it always seems like halfway through the cleaning/organizing process, the room actually looks far worse. Stuff is everywhere, laid out, piled up, tossed into the corner, and you stand in the middle and think, how the hell did this all fit into that closet, and how will I ever get it back in again, and where do I even start? I can recall so many times as a kid, wanting to have an organized space, wanting things to make sense, and I could get as far as the clearing-out and then I just came to a complete halt; it's times like that, I really need someone with fresh eyeballs to say, "it's not that bad, this isn't insurmountable, look, just start here, and I'll start here, and we'll be done in no time."
Granted, I doubt I'll ever reach a point when that mental stage is completely clear -- I will always be a walking bundle of unfinished projects -- but it needs to at least be somewhat clearer than it is, now. And, for better or worse, having a workspace in my house, unrelated to how I want to spend my time, really pulls on me, becomes this two-ton elephant standing in the middle of the stage. I can't not be aware of it, waiting in that room down the hall.
So, naturally, now I'm going to go hang shelves in the kitchen. Will post pictures later of latest progress.
This makes me cranky, and then I get avoidant, and it's just all up from there. I dislike sitting at my own desk and thinking, in another room, there's another computer, with a miserable-for-work setup that's barely adequate, with horrible lighting and not enough desk space and I can feel it, down the hall, waiting for me. I want to come home and know that work has been left behind. I don't like avoiding an entire room in my house as though in doing so I can avoid the guilty "I should be working" feeling. When I am home, I do not want guilt!
So naturally after about two weeks of nothing from work -- other than the time I can scrape together to bill, for general stuff -- now there's a meeting tomorrow morning and another on Friday, and it's only by some luck of the universe that neither conflicts with the appointments I really don't want to/can't miss -- one of which is an interview. Somehow my resume worked its way through a state agency's lanes (same agency as where I interviewed two weeks ago, incidentally; I think they recently got a large grant and are beefing up their iT folks) ended up on the CIO's desk (chief information officer, for the non-acronym folk on my flist), and although I had applied for a different position, this manager wanted to know if I'd apply for his; he, and the CIO, thought it'd be straight up my alley.
This is the sort of thing I hear happening to other people, but never to me. I was, to say the least, absolutely gobsmacked. I mean, to call me up, tell me about the job, and ask me if I would please apply (agency and HR regs, had to have The Application Properly Done), here's the job #, and here's my phone #, and my email, and please drop a line when I've sent in the application so the manager can contact HR and make sure the app gets to him, the position only opened a few days ago, here's more details, etc, etc. Wow. I mean, it's nice to be wanted, but that was above and beyond anything I'd expected. When I got home that afternoon, after promising the mgr I'd email him when I'd sent it in, already there was an email waiting for me with his information again, just in case, and to please let him know, etc., etc.
It takes time to go through HR, there's the assurances about contract-employee rates (which this mgr gets points for asking that *before* the interview, giving me time to marshal an answer), and we did the mandatory email-exchanges until tomorrow had been set up as the interview time; it's the earliest everyone can be in the same room. Meanwhile, I carry on with contracting, which is to say: I do nothing but check email in the morning, see nothing, and go about my business -- even if right now that seems to consist mostly of feeling pretty crummy. On the plus side, the prospect of working in an office does create a major impetus to finish some of the projects around the house. It's not like I'll have all day to do it, if I'm elsewhere for nine or more hours daily. I've still not figured out how I'll wrap up the contract, but I've no interest in ruining one thing until the other is certain.
In writing news, there's nothing. I printed GTMD to take with me to Cali, and never touched it; I don't know when I expected to work on it (the plane?) but just had no motivation. It's strange, but it's like I have to get a space large enough, push away all the things clamoring for attention in my life...
I think of it like this: my mental headspace is a large theatre. During times when my mind's not that clear, or I've a lot of unfinished tasks on my plate, the stage looks like someone emptied the props room, and maybe two or three of the coat closets and the mop-closet, all onto the stage. I could put my characters up there to go through their paces, but two steps in any direction and they'd fall over something from a different task or job. There's no room for them to stretch out and tell their story, not when they're hemmed in by all the other things I should be doing or finishing or starting, etc. I need to clear out the mental space for them, and until then, I can't tackle revisions, and the problem is that my internal stage has become so littered in the past month that I feel paralyzed as to how I should even start.
It's a lot like the process of cleaning your room, as a kid: it always seems like halfway through the cleaning/organizing process, the room actually looks far worse. Stuff is everywhere, laid out, piled up, tossed into the corner, and you stand in the middle and think, how the hell did this all fit into that closet, and how will I ever get it back in again, and where do I even start? I can recall so many times as a kid, wanting to have an organized space, wanting things to make sense, and I could get as far as the clearing-out and then I just came to a complete halt; it's times like that, I really need someone with fresh eyeballs to say, "it's not that bad, this isn't insurmountable, look, just start here, and I'll start here, and we'll be done in no time."
Granted, I doubt I'll ever reach a point when that mental stage is completely clear -- I will always be a walking bundle of unfinished projects -- but it needs to at least be somewhat clearer than it is, now. And, for better or worse, having a workspace in my house, unrelated to how I want to spend my time, really pulls on me, becomes this two-ton elephant standing in the middle of the stage. I can't not be aware of it, waiting in that room down the hall.
So, naturally, now I'm going to go hang shelves in the kitchen. Will post pictures later of latest progress.
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no subject
Date: 21 Feb 2007 08:20 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 21 Feb 2007 09:34 pm (UTC)then again.. who knows? i might surprise myself.. >_> in any case, it's quite a comfy prospect..
another thig is.. i'd probably become a complete recluse. this way i get at least some company at work..
good luck with the job! starting is always a pain-in-the-ass..
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Date: 22 Feb 2007 12:05 am (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 22 Feb 2007 03:22 am (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 22 Feb 2007 04:31 am (UTC)Di
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Date: 22 Feb 2007 12:45 pm (UTC)I guess the reason I started the once-a-week telecommute is that it allows me to have a day with some quiet time, sort-of -- no coworkers popping in for a chat, even if I do have to answer email. I'm so busy running around on the weekend that it's nice to have a day by myself.
During last week's ice storm, both K and I were home; he spent the day downstairs on the couch watching TV while I worked, and it wasn't the same.
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