As I was e-mailing him the other day, I decided that it's time to let the world know that I haven't been feeling "myself" for the past week or so.
Such a bland statement begs the question: what exactly does "myself" feel like? My simple answer would be, "I don't know, but not this."
First, let's get organized. I'm not:
1. suffering from physical ailments
2. dealing with "problems at home" [Zach, as usual, rocks]
3. paranoid
4. "special."
I've just felt... anxious. On edge. And a bit out of my skin. Not to say that life lately has been one nervous collapse after another. Far from it. I've been rolling along as usual... with activities including
1. hosting my much-changed father and his new wife for a few days last weekend
2. preparing for the visit of Zach's best friend
3. planning our own subsequent excursion to see/bother one-armed Sarah and two-armed Paul
4. cleaning, reorganizing, and asking our landlord about getting a cat
5. asking for donations to my team's Seattle AIDS Walk 2005 effort.
6. andsoforth.
But, while I say things are "rolling along"... well... that's been the source of anxiety: To where, dear James, are we rolling?
Small Things have been piling up - about the future. Here's the part where I think about the internet test I took once, in which my secret superhero power was time travel. Yes, I ponder my future often, and here I sit on the brink of a paradigm shift, not sure what lies beyond the horizon. With graduate school, what I've confirmed so far is my first lab rotation, of which I know little, and a significant pay cut as I descend to the level of grad student stipend. Aside from those two small bits of information, it's all a Big Unknown - a strange creature I stumbled upon one day walking down the street, and have so far merely ascertained that it
1. exists
2. smells a bit funny.
Thus, I've much still to discover... and, as one who loves to know more than most, the concept of a Big Unknown, consisting of a 5-7 year investment with a significant cut in compensation and free time, leaves me a bit... well... flustered. Plus, being around graduate students now, I've witnessed their abilities, in both intellect and drive, and wondered, staring into a mirror, if I also have what-it-takes. Can I do what they do? Can I achieve what they achieve? Looking at the Big Unknown from this end, it quite frankly doesn't seem likely. And that small chunk of self-doubt about the future, coupled with this nagging fear of failure, has succeeded in stuffing my panties in a bunch.
The loss of time and income, the looming and stressful end to my current job, and the approaching march of graduate school, broken only by some small tidings of joy in the interim (50% chance of piano, with 100% chance of a week in New York City)... well, they say "don't sweat the small stuff." But, I obviously, thrive by sweating the small stuff.
And, quite frankly, why shouldn't we sweat the small stuff? Why shouldn't we concern ourselves with the Small Things? We spend vast majorities of our short lives swimming in Small Things - school, sex, salary. They say "worry about the big stuff" - war, disease, the immortal soul. But, aren't I defined more by the Small Things than the number of near-fatal illnesses from which I've suffered and recovered? Yes, the Big Things lay a foundation (disease: I, for one, would not have gotten far had my parents not driven me to hospital so quickly when I suffered from croup), but isn't the fact that I like turkey bacon best on my BLTs as defining of a characteristic of James as the fact that I was treated in the hospital at four months of age for a respiratory ailment?
Sweat the small stuff. Learn from it.
1. I like the smell of Scotch tape. Obsessively.
2. I'm supposed to pick classes for my first quarter in graduate school. I have no idea how to do this. It worries me.
3. I loathe brushing and flossing, but I loathe going to the dentist even more, so I do the former to minimize the latter.
4. I've forgotten quite a bit from my undergraduate courses, yet I don't want to spend the next month studying up; instead, I want to enjoy my spare time while I have it. But, if I enter graduate school unprepared, I fear I'll appear stupid and bumbling to my fellow students.
5. I answer the phone "hello," but it sounds like "yellow."
6. Since I've little money, I persistently worry about having enough for the "far future." I'm afraid I'll turn around one day, realize I'm 75, and note that my bank account is nearly empty, and that I must work as a cashier to make ends meet, rather than spending my retirement reading books and picking flowers.
7. Tuvok is the best Vulcan.
8. I'm a slow reader, as it particularly evident when I tackle professional scientific papers.
9. I try not to drink much soda but, when I do, it's either Fresca or Diet Coke.
10. In an academic debate setting, such as my current job, I'm less inclined to defend my point, instead assuming that others present must know more than me. Thus, time and again, I'm railroaded by egomaniacal loudmouths who can simply yell out wrong things louder than I can humbly proclaim right things (Small Things).
11. My favorite novel, actually, is The God of Small Things. But, if I ever met Ms. Roy, I wouldn't tell her that - because she probably hears that from lots of people, and she's definitely smarter than I am.
12. I really miss having a piano in my life... playing it has actually helped me cope well with #10.
13. I fear failure.
14. I'm on the lookout for a good biography of King Henry VII, if anyone can recommend a title.
As I discovered yesterday, while writing Adam, setting a few of my angst-ridden Small Things - particularly when interspersed with other, brighter Small Things (he, unfortunately, had to read about my philosophy of sperm count in between my anxieties) - really puts the Soul at ease.
Therapeutic, but without the huge bill at the end.
So, for my sake, just to make me fell a little bit more mainstream, pile up a few small anxieties of your own, and sweat the small stuff. It won't hurt too much - after all, they're only the Small Things.
Posted by James at August 11, 2005 06:47 PM