Springing ahead (a month late, but right on time)

Something strange happened in my brain.

It’s good, I think.

I read three articles over the weekend that kicked my mental ass.

Each said how your productivity pretty much dies after 40 hours. Or 50 hours. Or 55 hours. Depending on the article.

In any case, they all said the same thing — you are useless to yourself and others after working X number of overtime hours and then cramming all your chores into what’s left of your weekend.

One was a blog post that asked you what stupid activities you could get rid of. He suggested idle chitchat with coworkers.

I like my coworkers and we barely speak. I’m not giving up our rare moments of connection. Having cool people on my team makes me want to work hard for all of us, not just myself.

The blog post suggested other things to get rid of, like checking comments and Facebook and stuff. I kind of have to do that for work, although I recently bequeathed it to someone else.

What I actively try to get rid of, though, are senseless interactions and fights and projects. Things that don’t produce revenue. Things that don’t make my brain work better. Things that, if gone undone, nobody actually notices.

Don’t get me wrong. I have a heaping pile on my plate and a big fat side dish of guilt. And relationships to maintain for now. But getting rid of the guilt has made me work harder, faster and better.

I may never get a full night’s sleep. Or start work after 8 a.m. Or get home before 7 p.m. But, I am giving more of my heart to fewer things.

What I need to do is leave more room in my heart for the Important Things. You know, so that I’m ready to fit them in when they arrive.

Like one article said, if you’re married to someone who doesn’t light your fire anymore … and then someone who does slides onto the barstool next to yours … it isn’t fair to you, or to them, or to the spouse you’re only making marginally happy to not be available to pursue what could turn out to be real passion.

Dear passion: I’m not taken anymore. Find me, and I’m yours. And if I find you, damn it — look out. Because, you’re mine.

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