The realization is finally upon me! I’m not sure why it took me so long (no doubt the better part of a lifetime) to see this problem, and yet here are my eyes, opened! What scares me most, however, is that I feel absolutely no motivation to change. You see, I’m a projectaholic.
You know that chick from “The Brothers Bloom” who collects hobbies? I think if I ever inherit a large sum of money (which could only ever result from the revelation that I am really the son of Bill Gates or J.K. Rowling or someone like that), that’s exactly who I’d become.
You see, that pesky fourth commandment — the setting aside of some rest time — usually feels more like absolute weakness, laziness, and failure to me. The way I see it, by golly, any free second is a wasted second.
So . . . here’s how I pretend I’m living a productive life: I come up with new projects (oooh! I think that’s my favorite word!). I’ve convinced myself that in this circus-world, with its trapeze walkers and lion tamers, life is best lived as a juggler — where the only rest I need happens in the split-second one ball leaves my hand and another finds it. And when things get a little dull, that just means it’s time to toss in yet another ball, or better yet, a bowling pin, or sword, or flaming torch. One must learn by doing, after all, and by doing everything.
So, you wanna know what my projects are? I am more than happy to tell them to you — it gives me a great feeling of validation when you realize how hard I’m working! I’m currently juggling three novels — one in third draft, one in second draft, and one a couple chapters into the first draft. I’m writing songs for a new record. I’ve spearheaded Matt Papa’s website, as well as a few others for Centricity. I’ve started a new YouTube channel with my buddy Mark, which will come out with it’s first two videos hopefully within the next couple weeks (oh, and I’ve still got my own YouTube channel to nurture; new music vid in the works). I’m writing a screenplay for my internship at Belmont Health Sciences, which I will also soonly be directing. I’m recording a Christmas album with friends, establishing my artist presence both at shows and on social media, seeking out employment plans for December, reading a few books, keeping in/getting in better shape, making my yard look nice, etc. (obviously, this blog was dropped from the list long ago).
Anyway, I’m really hoping you’re impressed. 
Obviously, the projects listed above don’t include my usual, daily strivings like completing school projects, pursuing my wife, pursuing friendships, seeking to grow in faith, and all of that stuff that’s a little bit harder to measure quantifiably. So it’s not really surprising that, when I find myself right in the middle of a spare moment, I inflict upon my conscience every type of guilt at my disposal in order to obtain some objective progress — something I can add to my glorious pile of achievements. My days are measured in choruses sung and chapters written.
The only thing that really sucks about all that, though, is that it’s hardly ever satisfying. It seems like it all works backwards, which is pretty freaking disappointing. Here’s what I mean: usually, in those free moments while trying to decide how best to use my time, I only choose from my grand list of projects because they can show me visible results when I’m done. However, when I rest in love — when I decide that I’ll simply spend time with my wife, for instance (when no other stipulations are needed) — I find myself more fulfilled despite having no immediate, tangible evidence of any progress. In other words, progress alone hardly ever produces fulfillment. Ughhh.
Still, once I’m done writing this blog and I have a few minutes before bed to use for whatever I choose, I’ll go open my word document and get to editing. Just as any good temptation would advise, I’ll trade in real joy for the allure of progress. And once I feel its pull, I’ll invent some new vessel to get me there; my projects will ferry me to the land of all things calculable, where I’ll set up new docks and ports and hope that if I’ve just invested enough time and energy in the most diverse of trades, I’ll reach the end of my strivings and be content. I guess I have yet to fully grasp the simple fact that when you’re hooked to progress, not only do your strivings never end, your steps know no comfort.
So I know what to do: turn all my rest into a project, right? Keep an eye on the clock while I sacrifice the second hand for the sake of my heavenly standing — my “progress” as a growing Christian? Actually, this seems like the greater evil. Now, not only do I live under my own crappy expectations of myself, but I also apply those crappy expectations to God in assuming that if I complete my projects for his sake, I’ll earn something from Him. Now I’ve transformed from a tax collector to a Pharisee — at least Jesus would visit and eat at the house of the former.
Nope, I’ve got to kill the project mentality if I’m going to rest right. I’ve got to rest in defiance of my projects, and work to keep their number relatively low so as to avoid any sort of popular revolt or mob psychology.
Anyway, it’s past my bedtime. Night, chums.
