Blink.

Blink.

Blink.

Blink.

...I'm waiting. I'm always waiting, it would seem. Waiting for something to happen off in some remote corner of the world, to send a message to some other less-remote corner of the world, and then find its way back to me.

If I wait for long enough it'll eventually happen, but my ma always told me that a watched pot never boils. I don't boil a lot of things in pots, though. Mostly, I boil water in an electrical kettle which is extremely good at boiling water. Much faster than sticking an uncovered, uninsulated metal pot full of water on top of a gas hob and setting it off.

For my electric kettle to boil "2 cups" of water (according to the markers on the window of the kettle) it takes roughly a minute. Since the "2 cups" marker is the minimum (why is there a minimum? Will the water get too hot if I don't put in a minimum?), I have to wait that long to get my *one* cup of tea.

I don't mind the wait, though. The wait for a cup of tea distracts me for that one, sweet minute from the waiting I'm doing for something else to happen, which is inifinitely more tedious to wait for.

In the minute I spend waiting for the kettle to boil, somebody interesting could turn up in the kitchen for me to talk to. If we get into a conversation about something interesting, then who am I to deny Fate this opportunity to distract me from my waiting?

If I'm lucky, whoever walks in won't ask me about the thing I'm waiting for. The chances are pretty good that the true answer to their question is almost identical to the answer I gave last time they asked me.

"Yeah, really good ... No, not quite yet, just a few more to do ... How about you?"

The final part - the "how about you" part, that is - is a genuine question. It's not one of those polite questions you only use when you feel obliged to return the favour of asking about someone's work. No, quite the contrary; I don't want to talk about my work. My work is boring to me, so heaven knows what it must be to you. Look: tell me about what's going on with your work. I'll listen. I'll be interested.

Alas, nobody has entered the kitchen, and my tea is now brewed. I suppose it's back to the desk, now.

Blink.

Blink.

Blink.

f. u. n. c. t. i. o. n. <space>. i. s. B. o. r. e. d.

Blink.

I wonder what's happening on Reddit.

Click.

I thought I'd unsubscribed to /r/atheism... why is it.. oh, I see. I haven't logged in. How curious.

This isn't interesting either. You know what's interesting? Playing the guitar. Computer games are interesting. Creating computer games is interesting, too. Reading a novel is interesting. Watching a Korean film, that would be interesting too. Why am I sitting here wasting my own time and theirs, working at about 30% capacity and struggling to work any harder? If I told them, would they give me the day off? Would I finally get a check a thing or two off of my list of things to do?

Would a day really make a difference? Is it lack of time that's bothering me, or is it the job? Is it just boring me?

I never wanted to make business software, so why did I go into this? The money, I suppose. Someone gave me a copy of Visual Studio and a load of money and said, "make me a website," so I did. I don't even like working in .NET.

No, when I was a kid all I wanted to do was design games. I wasn't bothered about money or exposure, just making games. Something to entertain and educate - something to test the mind and the body, and to tell a story. This story, perhaps.

And yet, here I am, at the beginning of my career wondering two and a half years on whether I've made a huge mistake. But I can't leave now. They've got me hooked. I have friends here. I have a generous payslip and benefits package. It's got everything a great job should have, except intrigue. Surely that can't be the most important thing.

I even get my own copy of Sublime Text. Whoop-de-do. It is a nice editor. I'm using it to write this story now. I turned on the setting which makes the cursor blink in a nice, faded manner rather than the harsher, default way that it blinks. Something like this:

Blink.

Blink.

Blink.

Blink.