So I sit and try to relax, but my mind spins with work and other shit.

I can’t seem to clear it out. And it is times like this, that I get overwhelmed with a feeling of great futility.

Maybe there isn’t anything more to life than this. Just working on shit that no one cares about.

I spend hours and hours of my life doing things that few people care about. That few people understand.

Setting up an Exchange Server isn’t the kind of accomplishment that makes a deep and lasting impression on people. In the long run it is utterly meaningless. The impact I make on the world through my work is null. The impact I make otherwise isn’t much more.

I write these words that impact less people than my work does.

Somewhere in there, I suspect that there is a Zen simplicity to all of this that I am just missing.

Maybe making an impact is just an illusion. Maybe it’s just a matter of going through the process, not for others but for ourselves. Which process doesn’t matter, just going through a process.

If that is true, even the I know it, I can’t seem to separate the stress and anxiety of trying to succeed from the process.

Maybe I need to go backpacking.