Burnt, Grumbling

So I'm officially burnt out at work.

It's funny, when I thought about burnout, I assumed it would happen as a result of having way too much to do. And I guess it can. This one's different, though; it's the burn-out of boredom and repetition. Of disengagement. Of I-just-can't-bring-myself-to-read-another-blogpost. Something like that. I'm sitting here this afternoon and reading over my to-do lists and, well, it seems that there's nothing to do. Nothing that needs to be done. So I sit here and work on my own little stuff a bit, but feel a constant low-grade guilt about it. Eucch. Work's been mellow and easy and completely, almost freakishly non-stressful but, oddly, that's causing its own kind of anxiety. The anxiety of worrying if I'm stagnant? Something like that. I boing back and forth between thoughts of 'I really need to move on' and 'don't be a quitter, you should get yourself more engaged with what yr doing; engagement comes from within, after all!' Or maybe that's just a way of coating the fear that what's next will be worse somehow. Fear of the challenges that I also, at the same time, want? That sounds more likely.

Human growth is a real goddammer!

I've had a lot of stuff on my mind lately. I'm revisiting my favorite guru, Karen Horney. Reading "Our Inner Conflicts." Another really great book (in addition to Gravity's Rainbow) to read on the subway for the looks you get from people. It's like having a harsh German therapist at your beck and call. And I have a real therapist, who is neither German nor harsh, but who is making me think, as well. And I'm going through this year-anniversary introspection about New York and about this job. Ah, introspection. This girl's greatest strength and her greatest weakness.