Good morning. I am trying to warm my cold hands with a warm cup of coffee I just got at work. Nothing fancy: just a cup of strong coffee, sweetened with sugar. The classic drink.
This black concoction lets me power through the day, which is invariably tiresome and stressful: the bitterness and aroma are stimulating and gives me a boost of energy at every gulp. Caffeine has become an indispensable asset to the workers' routine, blue-collars and white-collars alike.
But I digress. The real reason I'm writing today is to wonder about my own quirks. And one of them is how I feel much more creative at work days instead of weekends, where I'm free.
It's paradoxical: I want to draw and create things for my own leisure when I'm working; and when I'm finally free, I'm not doing anything creative. I want to draw and write and compose when I'm in my cubicle, and yet when I have the time to do so, I'm cooking and cleaning the house (which are important and fulfilling on their own, sure, but not what I seek).
This is, of course, quite frustrating and tantalizing to me. I want to do so many things, and yet my body refuses to engage in it, unless it's the early hours of Monday through Friday. Why am I like this?
Actually, I think it makes sense for me to act like this. Be it as it may, even enjoyable creative endeavors are work, after all: it requires diligence, focus, time and effort to create, and all that were sucked dry by morose meetings and meandering spreadsheets. It is hard to devote time and energy into fulfilling things when I have none of that remaining when the evening comes.
I know that resting is important for the body and mind: that goes without saying. But it really can be frustrating to conciliate what I must do and what I want to do. The classic feeling.