I’m writing this from an office on the 7th floor of the building that I work in. It’s nearing 10:30am, and I can see the city sprawled out below me and the sun glinting off of the river in the distance. I can see the freeway, a few bridges, and a good portion of downtown from where I’m sitting.
A lot of people would kill to have a view like this from their home. I know I would. The many times that I’ve worked late here, I’ve sat transfixed and watched the twinkling lights of the city and the stars in the sky. It’s absolutely stunning, even in the day.
But I find it fascinating that, after a little more than two years in this building downtown, I’ve somehow become immune to this same beautiful view. I don’t stop to admire it the way I used to, and that concerns me. I wouldn’t call it complacency or getting used to something. I suspect it’s something far darker and more worrisome: It’s that I just don’t care.
I’ve stopped caring about how beautiful the view outside the window has become, and largely, it’s because I’m too busy to care. I work frantically, day in and day out, in an attempt to stay ahead of the million and one things flying in my direction. I can’t afford the time to stop and glance wishfully out the window for a few moments.
There are meetings to attend, conference calls, computer architects and developers to argue with, servers and appliances to fix, service level agreements to read, rewrite, people to contact and various documentation to update.
In short, I have to remain on my toes or risk getting run down.
And there’s the catch-22. If you work so diligently at your job, so you can have money for your life, what kind of life are you living that you can’t look out the window and day dream for a moment?
I’ve started to catch myself saying certain things during meetings that I used to make fun of people for. I’ve become a parody of myself.
I’ve worked very hard to become the person that I am today; I’ve battled within myself and fought for what I believed was right and against what was wrong. I don’t want to imagine a day when I look back and realize that I hate what I’ve become… and for something as stupid and innocuous as my job.
So today… I’m writing this during my break, at the window, and I’m enjoying the sun and the view of the city. Maybe some of the problems that I face will seem just a bit clearer when I begin to work them. Maybe not. But there’s hope in the day dream. There’s always hope.