I'm Having an Existential Crisis

Many of you are probably think "well, it's a day ending in 'y'" because I tend to rethink my entire life on a regular basis (can it really be REthinking if I'm always thinking about it?).  But right now there appears to be a confluence of events determined to set my head spinning.

The biggest is obviously the fact that, in five months, I'm going to be a father.  That's pretty heady shit right there, but I'm doing pretty well with it, I think, at least on a conscious level.  I will admit to feeling more nostalgic than normal and that said nostalgia is only going to get worse as we creep into October, my favorite month of the year.  My desire to act like an irresponsible child is even greater than usual, and it's usually pretty great.

And, let's face facts, the number of mind challenging questions that having a child raises is off the charts.  The only thing that will prevent me from wallowing in thought when this kid is born is going to be actually having to take care of him.

The most prominent issue I'm dealing with -- more prominent than having a child simply because it's happening right now -- is that my boss at work is leaving.  This is something of a mindfuck for many reasons, not the least of which is that he's a great boss.  My job is actually enjoyable, more or less, because I work with him.  The entertainment value alone is going to drop drastically when he's gone.  On top of that, he's the kind of guy who considers all conversations worthwhile, although I don't know that he'd phrase it like that.  He's fond of talking through a problem, or at least seeing where a discussion will take you.  He thinks creativity is important, even if we don't get a lot of chances to use it.  He's also a funny dude.

I'm taking his job when he leaves, which technically means I'm getting a promotion.  The problem is that his
Found at http://thenonist.com/job is not unlike that first ex-significant other: I don't really want it, but I don't want anyone else to have it, either.  I just can't picture myself actually working for someone else, particularly when, at this point, I'd probably know more than them simply because I've been here longer.  But my boss had an enthusiasm for his job that I simply don't have.  My job doesn't always feel like a 9 hour a day prison sentence because of the environment, but that's probably going to change.

I have to take his job, though.  Aside from the aforementioned unwillingness to let anyone else have it, there's simple fact that it will mean an increase in pay.  That whole "having a kid" thing makes earning more money very, very important.

Of course my other concern with the new job is that I'll have less time to write which is, obviously, an extremely big concern for when we have the kid.  But here's the main difference in those concerns: I'm going to be really passionate about the kid, so not being able to write as often will be less painful.  I am not, however, passionate about my job, which means I will probably start to resent it.  And then I'll get cranky.

And with writing, there's the ever present stress of not doing enough.  There's the stress of not writing enough and the stress of not getting published enough.  There's the feeling that I should be, could be doing more.  There's a ticking clock in my head at all times.

You will no doubt laugh and/or roll you eyes about this point, but it's in keeping with the perfect storm of events that's making me nutty (or nuttier than normal): the Cleveland Indians are in contention for a playoff spot.

Yeah, fine, not the type of thing that causes an existential crisis, but it's certainly something that breaks down my defenses.  Each game is important and the stress is getting to me.  Don't get me wrong, it's nice for them to be playing meaningful baseball in September, but I get really invested and so it's hard for me to calm down.  Funny how the above things would be happening now.

Speaking of the timing, I will be 38 soon, so that's not helping.  It's not that I feel old, because I don't.  But birthdays make me nostalgic and even more withdrawn than normal.  I tend to shut down and hide around my birthday each year.

The question, then, is what is the point of all of this whining?  What am I trying to say?  Or is the whining the point in and of itself?

I'll have to write a follow-up to this in five months; I have a feeling it will be very different.