Today, as I wrote a jargon-laden response to an RFP for a client, I realized how soul-sapping it is to do that kind of work. It's what's expected, unfortunately, by the funders and by the client, so I have to do it. In fact, I've become quite adept at stringing together a series of polysyllabic vocabulary words in a way that to me often seems to obscure what we want to say, rather than make it clearer. But clients love it and it's what's on my plate right now, so there you go.
This would bother me less if I didn't feel like it carries over to my writing here. When I've been in this world for too long (and too long can be a few days for some of these jobs), it feels like my blogging takes on that dreaded "teacher voice." You know, the Charlie Brown "wa wa wa wa wa" voice? There's a slight lecturing quality that I don't like, but can't seem to get rid of. It's also a time when I seem to draw fewer connections and when I feel stale and boring, even to myself. And usually I find myself to be endlessly fascinating, at least according to my husband.
I've tried to address this by blogging at 5:00 a.m., before I start the jargony stuff. But it seems to carry over from the day before, dogging me. You'd think that sleep would help me shake it off, but apparently not. When I'm in this mode, it feels like I've lost the connection to my "real" voice, the one that helps me learn and to see things with fresh eyes.
I think it's interesting that I feel like I have a "teacher voice" when I'm stale and not learning and when I've been working on the same kinds of projects to meet the demands of various competing bureaucracies. Is this a coincidence? What does that mean?
But that's really an aside. This post is more to acknowledge to myself that I'm in a bit of a pit, not attuned to my inner teacher, as Tom Haskins would say. The first step to changing things is to say them out loud, so there it is. I'm having voice problems. Let's hope they clear up over the weekend.