I Miss Writing

I miss writing.

I miss a lot of things actually. I miss having time for my hobbies like fantasy baseball (note: I’m about to miss the playoffs for the first time, ever), hanging with Grace, playing with Honey, keeping in contact with my friends and family, playing slow-pitch softball on a regular basis, reading non-management books, and a whole slew of other activities.

Since last September my life has been moving at hyper-speed and I haven’t really caught up to it yet.

Roughly a year ago, I interviewed for a big boy job. A couple days later I was back in the Midwest for my best friend’s wedding and I proposed to Grace. Less than a week later my Grandma was in the hospital. Days after that, I found out I’d gotten the job. That night I had a less-than-stellar falling out with someone I’d considered a pretty good friend. The next day, my Grandma died and I flew home for the funeral. Days later I started my new job. There was a lot more going on in that time period, but you get the gist, it was a pretty intense couple of weeks.

The new job has been a test of my patience, self-confidence, professionalism, and – at times – my sanity.

I’ve been busier than ever before and the bulk of it is simply the day-to-day work of managing eight different people and two libraries. On top of that is all of the committee work and other “higher level” work that needs to be done on a regular basis.

All the while, Grace and I have been working to plan our wedding, I’ve managed a couple of different slow-pitch teams, hired a new staff member, dealt with some – ahem – interpersonal issues among my colleagues, dealt with the stark reality of the Boston Marathon Bombings and the shooting at MIT (fun fact: Grace and I are part of a small group tasked with writing emergency plans for the libraries), and we found out we were basically being forced out of our apartment in Cambridge and we had to spend a couple of months scrounging for an apartment we could afford and then begin the arduous process of packing and moving.

Needless to say, it’s been busy. It’s been very, very busy.

I feel like I haven’t had any sort of legitimate downtime in the last year and that’s absolutely maddening. I miss my hobbies. I miss feeling legitimately relaxed. I miss writing.

On top of all of that, I’m down to less than 100 days until I turn 30.

In my head I had some sort of “Final 100 Days” writing challenge where I’d post something every day as my twenties came to a close. In the end, I found myself too busy to even come up with a good theme, let alone actually get down to the business of writing up any posts.

Now, don’t get me wrong, this is by no means a cry for sympathy or an excuse for why I’m suddenly very shitty at fantasy baseball, dropping my shoulder at the plate in slow-pitch, stuck in a writing drought, or basically a ghost to everyone in my life with the exception of the occasional Facebook or Twitter post that takes two seconds in between meetings.

This is just me saying that, despite all of the amazing things that have happened to me in the last year—and all of the shitty things—I’m just feeling a little lost. The last year of my 20s has been a whirlwind of both good and bad experiences and unlike much of the last decade, there’s very little to show for it.

Most of my life since college has been chronicled here on this blog. There were some obvious gaps due to basic inactivity or writer’s block or whatever, but for the most part, you can get a very good sampling of the last ten years of my life right here in black and white.

I’ve wanted to be a writer since I was a kid. I wrote stupid little stories and made my own “newspapers” on an old typewriter when I was a kid. When I got to college, I went to journalism school and I got a minor in creative writing.

I’m about to turn 30 and the only writing I do in a professional capacity is documentation, performance evaluations, and emails. I don’t regret where I’m at. I don’t regret what I’ve done. I have a great job. I have a wonderful life.

I just miss writing.

I wish I’d done more to chronicle this past year. I wish I could find the time or the energy or the ambition to put my fingers to the keys on a regular basis.

Someday I’m going to look back on this blog and be incredibly happy that I have such a rich history of where I was at throughout my 20s, but I know for a fact that I’m going to be disappointed in how little there is about this past year.

I’m closing in on 30. I have a good job. I have a great life. I have nothing that warrants complaining about.

…but I’ll be damned if I don’t miss writing.