In the little moments. Just after noon on a Monday in late February. It doesn't make a sound. It certainly doesn't come to tell you that you've won a prize. Nobody is waiting to give you good news at home. There's a lot of effort in the rear view mirror, and the car still runs like shit. Welcome.
See, I still feel that, everyday, I'm not learning, I'm not engaged, and I'm horribly distracted. Maybe that's not true on some level. I'm incredibly bored, in short. Really, really bored.
I do get a lot of work done at home (mostly writing and reading). I work at sustained medium-paced tempos, and feel very good afterward. But I'm wasting time here. Wasting it for what? I've got a friend. He's quitting his job and going on a bike journey. We had plans, the two of us, to do just that thing, once upon a time. Once upon a time. He's making an affirmative step toward happiness in the near-medium term. I reject the idolized notion of hard work as suffering, and suffering without hard work is intolerable. That's where I sit now, dazed and unedited.
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