A decision and a little news......

Two year anniversary post. It's been a wild two years since I made this decision and wrote this little piece.

" And near me on the grass lies Glanvil's book—

Come, let me read the oft-read tale again!

The story of the Oxford scholar poor,

Of pregnant parts and quick inventive brain,

Who, tired of knocking at preferment's door,

One summer-morn forsook

His friends, and went to learn the gipsy-lore,

And roam'd the world with that wild brotherhood,

And came, as most men deem'd, to little good,

But came to Oxford and his friends no more "

- Extract from The Scholar Gipsy, by Matthew Arnold.

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It’s been awhile since I’ve sat down to write a more personal kind of reflection. I won’t keep you long but I suppose there is news to get off my chest. I should know at this age of my life that when I avoid reflection it is normally because to reflect requires a level of introspection on a particular something that I’m uncomfortable addressing with in the moment. Or, even more likely, a series of moments. This is the primary reason I’ve managed to waste quite a considerable amount of my life. This indecision or procrastination stymies growth. And I’ve noticed a blunting of my writing growth in recent weeks as a result of not dealing with this specific issue.

For most of the pandemic I was in a work position that allowed me to carry out my functions from home. It was a blessing insofar as it afforded me the opportunity to write about the tyranny of the times without the outside world interfering with my thought process too much. While, for many, 2021 will be remembered as one of the darkest year’s in living memory - for me - it was one of the best year’s of my life. I found a freedom in the jail-cell of the pandemic that I would never have unearthed without it. A key to my early writing and the freedom I found therein was the luxury of working my “ real job” from the kitchen table.

All good things come to end though. I held out for as long as I could but since last January I’ve been back on the commuters trail. After one week of this, and two and a half hour, daily, round trips to my workplace, I knew, deep down, that the time had come to leave. However, I struggled to pull the trigger. Executing the decision was more difficult than I had anticipated and taking a leap into the unknown was not as easy as I might first have imagined. After 25 years as part of the Irish workforce I’ve never quit a job without having another one already lined up. Until now.

Two Monday’s ago, I landed down at work and into the office. Sat down at my desk and flipped open the laptop. Before I knew it I had typed out my resignation letter. Short and sweet. Funny thing - I didn’t wake up that morning and plan to do it. It was as if my other self, this demon and sometime angel, that sits on my shoulder, tired of my dithering, and elbowed me aside. Tappity-tap, tappity-tap and in seconds my life as an unremarkable participant in Ireland’s technology industry had drawn to a close. The relief was instant and almost overwhelming. I nipped out to the car park and sat into my car. Lit a cigerette and I could feel the tears welling up. My right hand shaking slightly as I drew a drag and inhaled the smoke.

The voice in my head and expert typer of resignation letters wasn’t too teary-eyed and was asking me a question while issuing an instruction.

“ How much more of your fucking life are you gonna waste? Start the car and get the fuck out of this place “

Pertinent question and for once I did as I was instructed to do.

What comes next - only time will tell I suppose. Whatever my new “this” will be, it won’t be that.

And hopefully the writing gets better too.

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