Saturday, July 15, 2006

trapped in my body

I am prematurely old.

Maybe my life has peaked at 25 and it’s all downhill from here?


I’m having one of those panic attacks again. It’s not as bad as THE ONE I had when I could not breathe and my heart was jumping out of my chest the whole day, though. This time my panic attack is more…well, calm. It’s a mature panic attack. The one you know will pass.


This happens whenever I am unsure of something, whenever I am starting something over. We are expanding the company yet again and I am feeling the pressure. I have so many questions, such as:

1. What if the new project does not sustain and I have to let some people go? I have never fired anyone before.

2. What if this project really does succeed – will I then have to expand? Will I have another panic attack?

3. Why am I doing this?

My logic tells me that all I have to think of is the bottom line – we need new people, and the company can make money with new projects that they will handle. When the project goes down, I simply have to let them go. I will not lose a penny. But do I see things this way? No.

I still can’t seem to think like a businessman. My mojo, it’s all gone. It’s been replaced with people skills. I actually care about our team and I want them to grow with the company, give them what they deserve, etcetera etcetera.

I could just make the most money I could from this stint and then walk away happy, right? But no. I actually care. IT’S DISGUSTING.

If the old dictator me talked to this new prematurely old me, it would say:

Retain as much profit and you will be retiring by 30, you overanalyzing fucker. Your employees probably don't care about your fucking company, so why should you care for them? You deserve it all, so don’t bother sharing. Buy the fucking Mercedes. NOW.

(six hours later)

The panic attack has somehow subsided and I am thinking clearly again. I’m in my box now and I feel so much better.

You see, I value my box. I know it isn’t much to most people, but it is to me – I’m cat and I love small spaces. I bought it with my own money. I keep it clean. I control the temperature.

It’s very important for me to have a box I could come home to. Somewhere where I could be by myself, away from the pressures of running a company. I watch my DVDs, read, clean my bags, all while wearing Mickey Mouse socks.

I’m just silly and simple, I think. But I am somehow lostinambition.


Blogger bismuth said...

lost in ambition. this is good. but i'm so glad, i'm growing old prematurely with a bunch of you guys. remember that conversation with trans as we down sausages and eggs and tubs full of hot choco? the one about falling hair, eratic hearbeats, shallow breathing and that big voice inside our heads that says, we are getting old!

2:50 PM  
Blogger A-hole! said...

jesus, you're starting to have this weird yellowish glow around your head. is that a halo? could this be? the great mussolini starting to have a heart? dang!

5:04 PM  
Blogger JErm said...

one word: outsource.

2:00 PM  
Blogger mussolini said...

bismuth> i can't wait to be forty. i just want to skip this twentysomething thirtysomething shit.

ahole> off with your head.

jerm> tried that. quality goes down and deadlines aren't met. how is your empire?

12:50 PM  

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