Cut to the Quick

Do you ever get the sense that, despite the fact that you love what you do and worked hard to get there, it's just not the right fit? I'm not talking about your stereotypical "Woe is me, I hate my job!" junk, or the lamenting that one's position is not ideal -- more like wearing a glove that, while it fits, isn't the right color to match your eyes to make them sparkle just so with that mischevious glint that lets the world that you're up to something, and you mean business.

Anyone can hold down a job that they don't like, and begrudgingly storm into work every morning, sucking down the black bitterness of daily coffee that seems the only thing to make the day tolerable -- that's easy, if unpleaseant. It takes a special kind of person, though, to take a job that they love and still feel out of place. It's not the company, the environment, the coworkers, the boss, the tasks ... all of those are great, but there's some other piece missing, some vital key that makes the whole thing jive to the hip swing of the soul. The verve, the elan, the cog that makes the whole machine click, and reconciles all sides of the self -- because the "work" side of the self is certainly at the forefront of today's society, and allowing that to be stifling prevents a certain degree of open freedom in other arenas in which we hope to succeed.

Maybe I'm just not accustomed to my relatively-new position. Maybe I'm just not hitting the numbers I'd hoped. Maybe I'm just crazy. I wonder if anyone else gets this ...

Cut to the Quick