Diligence and enthusiasm. Laziness and Utopia
It is as it was.
From childhood I was taught diligence and aspiration to achieve the ideal in everything.
Not in someone else's to see, but in what you yourself do.
Sweep the yard - so much so that no mote. Dig up the garden - and almost by a thread measure out the boundaries of the beds. Kartohu dig - and the entire bust thoroughly, even small and green is useful.
At school, this enthusiasm was expressed in drawing some kind of comic book.
At first, 100 notebook sheets — each sheet as an issue of a fictional Japanese journal, which I showed to friends at recess. Then 10 general notebooks, completely outlined in about seven years.
')
****
Over time, I, oddly enough, grew a bit sensitive and all this mania began to move into the comp.
For hours I sorted and edited hundreds of files with my hands, painted icons with letters in the paint folders for music — to sort it all into these folders (the PPC, the ideal solution is to store by genre, and within groups - by genre). This continued until I learned how to code. But the zeal from this has not disappeared anywhere - it resulted in writing scripts.
After working at the factory until five in the evening, by 7.30 I arrived home, from 8.30 to 11 I was at the gym and came home to twelve - I spent another hour at my PIV 2000 mhz 512 ram 80gb hdd and studied php4.
Not so straight to every day, but such cases have taken place to be and remember best.
The plant had technical documentation. The Su-24 and Su-34 fuel system, about thirty hand-written technologies, drawings, footcloths, the size of which occupies an area larger than a good writing desk. Enthusiasm was in full swing here, I was running along the corridor between those. the bureau and the archive in which the drawings were kept, like mad, scribbled some papers, ran between the shops naively believing that I was moving production.
However, not only was the work progressing incomparably slow, so were the grandfathers who supported me, such enthusiasm was not supported at all. Everyone did not care - you work fast or slow. The main thing is to be present.
Enthusiasm gradually faded away.
He flared up again when I moved to the IT-office, webmaster. A sort of negro laborer, judging by the vinaigrette of diversity of affairs that I was assigned.
Here, enthusiasm constantly stumbled over problems associated with a lack of experience, and then completely switched to personal self-education, because work gradually turned into a tedious routine.
The conclusion I made after working there was that my enthusiasm was just an indicator of lack of professionalism. If a person knows how to work, he manages everything and does not sit in the workplace 12 hours a day.
Turning to piecework - I was once again “inspired”. Of course! I will make three sites in a day - I will receive three rubles. Five sites - five rubles. In fact, everything turned out to be much worse - one site took six months, and the salary was striving for negative values, until finally the crisis did not draw another line in the workbook.
Nothing, break through! - I said to myself, I burst into enthusiasm and flooded like a train to freelancing.
And, I must say, only here my pressure was fully justified.
Work was the best entertainment, everything else faded into the background, life began to rapidly improve ...
A year has passed at this pace.
Life has improved to an acceptable state, the need for big money has disappeared, to replace the sleepless nights of coding came philosophy, as I initially called it.
****
I think about life a lot and always.
Not particularly familiar with the philosophy of the ancients, as well as his contemporaries, but found pleasant sides in the philosophy of Socrates - it was I who always felt myself as an observer of this life.
Even in freelancing, with a loan on the neck and debts, I never thought about earnings and money - I did not strive for them - I only occasionally counted numbers for statistics.
Having lived for 23 years in the infinite burden of self-realization, for creativity in any form - by securing myself in my apartment, living on my own, getting everything I need - a car and a girlfriend - I suddenly decided to temper my ardor and finally put out the increased ones identity requests.
To cultivate a laziness.
I deliberately stopped rushing around. “In 99% of cases, if something is not done on time, nothing will change.” I stopped striving for material goods - and indeed, I never really wanted to, but to feel an inner rejection of them, just to enjoy my being - is the only and real happiness in life.
In the end, I completed my last goals, requiring money, and began to slowly tie up with work, more immersed in the study of new technologies and graphomania in the literary industry. (although of course I didn’t take conscious breaks in it, I only temporarily stopped writing when life was too full, as for example when renting an office for freelancing)
I stopped not only looking (which I practically did not do), but generally take work from clients, citing employment. Finished only what really should have been completed. Although this is more than enough. Asechnoy paranoia is a good name for the fear of an unplayed ICQ, in which from ten to twenty unread messages flashes and from five new clients outside the list, the size of which has somehow exceeded half a thousand, then lost to 250 and now again rose to five hundred ...
Classes in English - now began with a delay in an hour or two, or even ended with a pass. Everything was put on the back burner.
****
In simple words, the bearish winter hibernation began in my body and brain.
And suddenly I realized that this forced laziness had nothing to do with the philosophy of Socrates at all. Nor does she have anything to do with creating a pleasant utopia around her.
It leads to the fact that I turn into a rokhly and irresponsible asshole, with whom soon no one wants to have business. Moreover, having become accustomed to disregard for worldly vanity, I will disrupt the realization of my own goals and desires, even if not even that. Having spat on worldly bustle - I simply wallow in its problems, so that after a long time I realize the horror of the current situation, look back at wasted time, feel like an empty and unnecessary devil, who at the dawn of life suddenly decided to dive into meditation and, having rejected worldly sufferings and movements, ascend to heaven - to become holy in life.
No wonder I read 12 chairs (though not finished reading). There is a very good story about a rich and successful man who left everything to hell with the dog and became a recluse.
The same goal is to become holy in life, to reject everything.
He lived in the forest and slept in a cherry coffin, the food was carried by monks from a neighboring monastery.
He prayed all day and guzzled berries. Until one day in the coffin were not bugs.
That would seem what a trifle! But no - the bugs gnawed and plagued the holy flesh spirit. And he asked the monks for help - they laid herbs to heal the plague - no! They continued to nibble on.
“Then he realized that he was wrong. Life, like twenty-five years ago, was dark and mysterious. Get away from worldly anxiety failed. It was impossible to live by the body on earth, but by the soul in heaven. ”
Looking for a middle ground.
From childhood I was taught diligence and aspiration to achieve the ideal in everything.
Not in someone else's to see, but in what you yourself do.
Sweep the yard - so much so that no mote. Dig up the garden - and almost by a thread measure out the boundaries of the beds. Kartohu dig - and the entire bust thoroughly, even small and green is useful.
At school, this enthusiasm was expressed in drawing some kind of comic book.
At first, 100 notebook sheets — each sheet as an issue of a fictional Japanese journal, which I showed to friends at recess. Then 10 general notebooks, completely outlined in about seven years.
')
****
Over time, I, oddly enough, grew a bit sensitive and all this mania began to move into the comp.
For hours I sorted and edited hundreds of files with my hands, painted icons with letters in the paint folders for music — to sort it all into these folders (the PPC, the ideal solution is to store by genre, and within groups - by genre). This continued until I learned how to code. But the zeal from this has not disappeared anywhere - it resulted in writing scripts.
After working at the factory until five in the evening, by 7.30 I arrived home, from 8.30 to 11 I was at the gym and came home to twelve - I spent another hour at my PIV 2000 mhz 512 ram 80gb hdd and studied php4.
Not so straight to every day, but such cases have taken place to be and remember best.
The plant had technical documentation. The Su-24 and Su-34 fuel system, about thirty hand-written technologies, drawings, footcloths, the size of which occupies an area larger than a good writing desk. Enthusiasm was in full swing here, I was running along the corridor between those. the bureau and the archive in which the drawings were kept, like mad, scribbled some papers, ran between the shops naively believing that I was moving production.
However, not only was the work progressing incomparably slow, so were the grandfathers who supported me, such enthusiasm was not supported at all. Everyone did not care - you work fast or slow. The main thing is to be present.
Enthusiasm gradually faded away.
He flared up again when I moved to the IT-office, webmaster. A sort of negro laborer, judging by the vinaigrette of diversity of affairs that I was assigned.
Here, enthusiasm constantly stumbled over problems associated with a lack of experience, and then completely switched to personal self-education, because work gradually turned into a tedious routine.
The conclusion I made after working there was that my enthusiasm was just an indicator of lack of professionalism. If a person knows how to work, he manages everything and does not sit in the workplace 12 hours a day.
Turning to piecework - I was once again “inspired”. Of course! I will make three sites in a day - I will receive three rubles. Five sites - five rubles. In fact, everything turned out to be much worse - one site took six months, and the salary was striving for negative values, until finally the crisis did not draw another line in the workbook.
Nothing, break through! - I said to myself, I burst into enthusiasm and flooded like a train to freelancing.
And, I must say, only here my pressure was fully justified.
Work was the best entertainment, everything else faded into the background, life began to rapidly improve ...
A year has passed at this pace.
Life has improved to an acceptable state, the need for big money has disappeared, to replace the sleepless nights of coding came philosophy, as I initially called it.
****
I think about life a lot and always.
Not particularly familiar with the philosophy of the ancients, as well as his contemporaries, but found pleasant sides in the philosophy of Socrates - it was I who always felt myself as an observer of this life.
Even in freelancing, with a loan on the neck and debts, I never thought about earnings and money - I did not strive for them - I only occasionally counted numbers for statistics.
Having lived for 23 years in the infinite burden of self-realization, for creativity in any form - by securing myself in my apartment, living on my own, getting everything I need - a car and a girlfriend - I suddenly decided to temper my ardor and finally put out the increased ones identity requests.
To cultivate a laziness.
I deliberately stopped rushing around. “In 99% of cases, if something is not done on time, nothing will change.” I stopped striving for material goods - and indeed, I never really wanted to, but to feel an inner rejection of them, just to enjoy my being - is the only and real happiness in life.
In the end, I completed my last goals, requiring money, and began to slowly tie up with work, more immersed in the study of new technologies and graphomania in the literary industry. (although of course I didn’t take conscious breaks in it, I only temporarily stopped writing when life was too full, as for example when renting an office for freelancing)
I stopped not only looking (which I practically did not do), but generally take work from clients, citing employment. Finished only what really should have been completed. Although this is more than enough. Asechnoy paranoia is a good name for the fear of an unplayed ICQ, in which from ten to twenty unread messages flashes and from five new clients outside the list, the size of which has somehow exceeded half a thousand, then lost to 250 and now again rose to five hundred ...
Classes in English - now began with a delay in an hour or two, or even ended with a pass. Everything was put on the back burner.
****
In simple words, the bearish winter hibernation began in my body and brain.
And suddenly I realized that this forced laziness had nothing to do with the philosophy of Socrates at all. Nor does she have anything to do with creating a pleasant utopia around her.
It leads to the fact that I turn into a rokhly and irresponsible asshole, with whom soon no one wants to have business. Moreover, having become accustomed to disregard for worldly vanity, I will disrupt the realization of my own goals and desires, even if not even that. Having spat on worldly bustle - I simply wallow in its problems, so that after a long time I realize the horror of the current situation, look back at wasted time, feel like an empty and unnecessary devil, who at the dawn of life suddenly decided to dive into meditation and, having rejected worldly sufferings and movements, ascend to heaven - to become holy in life.
No wonder I read 12 chairs (though not finished reading). There is a very good story about a rich and successful man who left everything to hell with the dog and became a recluse.
The same goal is to become holy in life, to reject everything.
He lived in the forest and slept in a cherry coffin, the food was carried by monks from a neighboring monastery.
He prayed all day and guzzled berries. Until one day in the coffin were not bugs.
That would seem what a trifle! But no - the bugs gnawed and plagued the holy flesh spirit. And he asked the monks for help - they laid herbs to heal the plague - no! They continued to nibble on.
“Then he realized that he was wrong. Life, like twenty-five years ago, was dark and mysterious. Get away from worldly anxiety failed. It was impossible to live by the body on earth, but by the soul in heaven. ”
Looking for a middle ground.
Source: https://habr.com/ru/post/109412/
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