Operation Alchemy, Dispatch #1: Metaphors for Being Too Busy

When I was a freshman in high school, Switchfoot released their debut album, The Legend of Chin. One of the strongest tracks on a truly classic album was Life and Love and Why, which featured one line in particular that's always stuck with me: "Give me a reason for life and for death, and a reason for drowning while I hold my breath." At the moment, I find myself reflecting on that line, and a litany of others. I feel "buried alive." I feel like I'm "trying to boil the ocean." In the opening pages of J.R.R. Tolkien's epic trilogy, the author has Bilbo saying, "I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread."

I suspect that it's a feeling that most people can identify with: trying to accomplish things beyond one's capacity.

By the way, dear reader, that is a dram of twelve-year-old Highland Park single malt Scotch whisky. It's a fine facilitator of evening reflection.

Shortly before I turned forty, and additionally since then, I've been working on a sort of five-to-ten-year plan called "Operation Alchemy": the creation of something greater than its constituent components. A full accounting of all of the various components is another topic for another day, but the concept basically boiled down to this: assuming for the sake of arguments that (1) forty marks the halfway point between my birth and my death, and (2) my life hasn't played out the way that I had originally expected, and (3) I want to feel as if I've accomplished something when the end comes, (4) I'd better start planning for what I want to accomplish, and how to ensure that I actually accomplish it.

Honestly, even just planning this whole thing has taken forever. I'd say that I'm really still just in the initial phase. Even just moving from planning to execution requires me to finish up some projects and get myself organized. That's involved things like going through basically all of the documents and paper detritus that I'd accumulated over the last twenty years - actually, probably more like twenty-five - and either sorting it, or boxing it up for shredding. It's involved organizing and consolidating my digital files, and eliminating redundancies, so that my digital porfolio is easier to access and use. It's required me to consolidate my belongings and organize the work area that I've tried to establish in my garage. In early 2022, I finally obtained my Physical Security Professional certification. These are just a few examples. There are plenty more.

A lot of this was difficult between mid-2014 and mid-2017, when I was living on the East Coast and only had a small subset of my personal belongings with me. Of course, I look back to the period from 2007 to 2010, when I could have done some of that sorting, and didn't; and other, shorter periods in 2012 and 2014, when I had the time and apparently didn't have the foresight to utilize it. A lengthy global pandemic that largely confined me to my home was, on paper, a great time to work on all of that, except that we semi-unexpectedly brought home a specimen of one of the more notoriously demanding dog breeds, just as we were beginning to hear rumblings of something out of the ordinary happening in China. (When we initially contacted the breeder, we expected to land on a waiting list for a few months, but they'd just welcomed a litter, and the sole puppy that wasn't spoken for was exactly what my wife had expressed her preference for. That's not an expression of regret, just an acknowledgement that life played out differently than we'd expected.) And I have to say, the amount of time that just being married requires ended up really catching me by surprise! Again, not a regret, just an observation of how much time I had as a bachelor. The amount of time I wasted in my twenties and early thirties is simply unconscionable.

So, being deliberate about the planning and allocation of my time has been important. Being disciplined about sticking to those plans has been an additional challenge, and some of the preparatory tasks feel so critical to the overall plan that it feels sort of pointless to even start executing that plan until they're complete. Can I really start doing new research, or continuing old research, before I have a functioning webpage and archive online? Does it make any sense to try adjusting my diet and exercising without developing concrete plans for both? Some projects are big, some are small, some are planning, some are productive. Overall, though, there's a lot to be done.

A lot of this pre-work could get sorted if I had a solid week of just doing these projects. And, honestly, Tango has reached the point in his life at which he's vastly easier to manage than he was during the pandemic. I'm even getting plenty of encouragement from my boss to, y'know, take that time, because I'm maxed out on the leave that I can accrue. Unfortunately, as I've slowly reclaimed productive bandwidth over the last several months, a great deal of that bandwidth has, quite reasonably, been consumed by work. On the plus side, I'm feeling more engaged and ambitious about my day job than I have in a long time. Conversely, I'm constantly buried in work tasks, which acts not only as a deterrent to taking the time off that I'd like to be using for those projects, but also as an energy sink that prevents me from making productive use of my evenings and weekends. In that regard, there appears to be no end in sight.

Of course, all of this falls quite squarely into the "First World Problems" category, and I make a point of keeping in mind that I should be (and actually am) grateful for the situation in which I find myself. There's also virtue in being patient; after all, if I can pace myself, I can accomplish both the work tasks, and the personal/work-adjacent tasks. That doesn't stop any of it from being frustrating. It doesn't stop me from feeling like "butter scraped over too much bread," or as if I'm buried alive, or as if I'm drowning while desperately holding breath.

More on Operation Alchemy to come.