Internal Sabbatical

Oftener than I might warrant, my mind has made use of an internal switch that, until recently, I was in no wise aware of. This switch, which is flicked to ON more often than not while I am working--a bit of a misnomer for performing the functions of my position according the job description I am to follow as per my current place of employment. The switch, when it occurs, makes that term working even more of a misnomer.

It is a sort of short-circuit to my brain. My mind clicks off and I hum along (not the song though) in the silence, a boredom I cannot articulate passing by in a time frame I've lost track of exactly how to calculate. I suppose many would refer to this phenomenon simply as "zoning out", but I don't think that could be all it is, considering the consistency and oftenness with which it occurs.

It is a form of clearing out, really. My mind goes entirely blank for a space anywhere from a few seconds to ten or fifteen minutes. I don't usually know when it's happening until I start to come out of it. It is some form, I think, of a mental escape from my work. Work that I don't like because it feels unimportant and unimpactful.

I think that may be it more than anything else. I want the work that I do to be impactful to the world at large. Even to my own community. As it is, the work I do doesn't really impact anyone directly. Sure, it makes the brochures my fairly anonymous corporate training structure entity sends out look just very slightly better to their market, but I don't honestly care for the corporate market at all. It is important, yes, but not to me. Not directly. To me, people are of importance. Businesses are not even secondary, but somewhere much further down the order-of-importance list.

I would like to be writing for a living, and I just can't seem to finish my novel. There's always some time blockage in the way. For the most part, I can say for sure, that time blockage is caused by my current job. But I can't quit or I wouldn't have the money for rent. Oh, dilemma, why do you pester me so?