Wrapping up after our hour long weekly status call, three of us huddled over a laptop trying to figure something a colleague had issues with. Two of the three of us were new to this particular paradigm of programming and it fascinated me that the other had dove right in and was making progress. On the contrary when faced with something new, I walk around in circles, jabbing at it and delaying the eventual dive till it cannot be put off. Walking back to my desk I resolved I would have progress to report on the next call. Instead of dilly dallying like I usually do, I sat with all relevant documents and editors open before me. Notebook by my side and a pen ready to make notes. And I stared. For a long time.
I kept wondering why I was hesitating to get my hands dirty with code. I flipped between the requirement and the design. I understood what needed to be done. I just did not know where to begin. Figuring I had to make a start somewhere, I began and before I knew it got so caught up with it that it was time for lunch.
Eating at my desk I realized how dependent I am on external forces to push me. Sometimes a deadline, sometimes the fear of being left behind, sometimes the pressure of having someone wait for me to to be done. I wonder how it would be to work just for the joy of doing something you like. Like blogging for example. I often wonder if there is a career to be made in writing. Mediocre writing. I enjoy typing emails, communicating with people, empathizing with them and in general making a connection. If only my job entailed just these and nothing else perhaps I would work with passion.