I’m listening to tunes. Pulsating beats. Supposedly designed to aid study. Thought, I hope. Or maybe just memorize. The wavelengths are linked to my mind. Sound.
I wait for my turn in a race. A video game. I’ve driven thousands of kilometers on virtual asphalt. My study has been drifting with a Xbox controller. I’ve imbued on a symphony of tire smoke. Months, years; time has been spent this way. Waiting for the game to start. The level to load.
Waiting for the spaces to be filled. No thought. No worry. No not, can, should haves. Just fill that in. Find me the next video, switch the song. Fill the spaces in.
Work will get you in the end. It has to be something concrete. Some evidence of not all just being spent in vain. We have to work. To show we can accomplish something. That we mattered in this brief blip of life. This realty is forced on me.
I rather enjoy a non productive day.
Except I don’t.
I do love the selfish nature of doing nothing. To luxuriate in ones own interests, no matter how scrambled they may be, is a conceit I enjoy. I do enjoy not being on another one’s schedule. Arriving at the start and end of a day on my terms. Hoping the concept of early and late lose all meaning; but they don’t. Time is still going by. It’s a quick way to lose track of it; doing nothing. Work needs me. As I do it.
But what is work?
Well I guess correcting the mistakes in blog posts is one. Uggggg. I hate work