I have no idea what I’m doing.
I mean I think I know what I’m doing. I could know what I’m doing. And maybe more interestingly I was taught to think I knew what I was I doing. To be outwardly, if superficially, confident in what I’m doing. To practice the postures necessary to make everyone think that every decision/action was scripted in my mind long before it took place.
But in reality — I have no frickin’ clue what I’m doing.
And, after further consideration, I think that’s a perfect place to live.
If someone knew what he or she was doing, it wouldn’t be very fun actually doing it. It would be less adventure and more busy work — a pre-planned out series of x and y tasks in order to reach z.
And no doubt there are people who’d prefer a pile of tasks. Much safer, much less guesswork, risk.
But I want my life to resemble an adventure. Moments of clarity and periods of confusion. The confusion is the price it seems you must pay in order to focus on work that may not work. Work that can put a dent in the universe or at least one person’s universe.
The key is getting comfortable being confused. If you can keep moving despite the confusion then I think you’re checking the only box you can…being prepared.
Preparedness, sure. But for what? I’m not so sure.