Time to think (Originally published on November 13, 2006)

It took me fifteen days. Fifteen days of not being myself. Fifteen days of being unable to focus. Then I realized that something was amiss. The blur that was October had drained me. My life has been on hold during that time. But sometimes it only takes identifying the problem to fix it. My brother returns to the United States tomorrow. I only now realize that the time was far too short.

As a culture, we attempt to isolate our lives. We try to quantify the time of mourning with euphemisms like "bereavement". Our society was built by those that dedicated their lives to a body of work. The great figures of history, by and large, were considered distant by their relations. They were human beings who would have dived into work in a vain attempt to distract them from their grief.

For years, I pursued their ways. Coffee and the office for a cold rather than chicken soup and bed rest. I thought that work and life were inseparable. It wasn't bending to some corporate whim, it was doing exactly what I wanted to. I was always more driven than my bosses. It was never a daily grind or "working for a pay check". It was about a body of work. A series of projects I could look back on with pride.

A year ago, I began to see other things. Things that were just as rewarding as work. Last week, a lesson was taught to me. It took me a while to figure it out though. I may very well do great works. I may stitch myself into the fabric of history. But, even then, it wouldn't really mean anything.

We don't effect others at the office. Some piece of code I write or some product I develop will never move another human being. If I write the great American novel, it will be remembered, not me.

I guess I still forget what's important from time to time. I wish I didn't. I wish I didn't get distracted by the ebb and flow of a day.

I guess I still have a lot of work to do.