“Busyness serves as a kind of existential reassurance, a hedge against emptiness…”
- tim kreider, THE ‘BUSY’ TRAP

my job isn’t special, but every chance i get, i’m there.  because i have 90% control over everything i do there.  i’m no control freak, but there is some sort of lacking in my days which work tends to fill.  i am not a nurturing person, i am not a flake, i am not interested in a lot of bullshit when i could be working.

it isn’t even about money: i wind up saying “it’s only money” when i hand over the my two dollars to the chevron station guy for a bland cup of coffee.  money isn’t everything, but the actual working to earn it is.

is that weird?

and i do it on purpose, become busy so i don’t have to do anything that prevents me from doing things or being places other people want me to do or where to be.  not because i don’t like my family and friends and coworkers.  i’d rather not do any of those things because, while i’ve no plan and i don’t have any real commitments, none of that feels worthwhile.  interacting with people means i have to act interested in things that don’t interest me; am asked for advice because that’s my role; i have to laugh at things, not because they’re funny, but because they’re ridiculous; i have to be places i really don’t want to see with anyone else.  i’m kind of a weirdo introvert, borderline antipathetic, pseudo-autistic person.  yes, i self-diagnose all the time.

i’m better on my own, and making myself busy is the best way for me to be alone.

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