Work to live. Don’t live to work.
That’s good advice. Write that down. Once I get the above mentioned manifested in some occupying fashion, I’m sure I’ll be in just fine.
But this weekend was three days long, and so unproductive I could kill myself. Blown engine with no replacement, so cars were out. Everyone was out of town. Thank hell I had the company of Ciena otherwise I’m sure by Monday I’d have been suicidal with boredom.
Everywhere I’ve been in the last two days, I couldn’t throw a rock without hitting someone who went camping and couldn’t wait to tell me about it. This very second cohorts are out in the hall discussing camping. Jeez…
When approached with camping stories, thus far I’ve immediately bitten back with “I didn’t go because I knew it was going to rain all weekend.”. When in actuality, I don’t mind rain in the least. Just didn’t have anyone to go with, no equipment, etc.
It’s my fault really, life doesn’t happen when you sit inside your house. Because nothing changes. I read the news about every hour now purely because it’s the only reality based variance I have. You can’t meet new people inside your house. It’s unlikely that person who will become a future friend is going to stumble up to your door any time soon. “Hey, I heard you were bored, and I happen to share many of the same interests, wanna hang out?”
I pretty much just sat for three days. Well, not quite that extreme. But still, it was the laziest I’ve been in a long long time. The inability to break my daily routine of working, and then going home and doing essentially nothing until the next day has to stop before I lose it.
Time to teach.
