time vs time

Why does it seem that the only time that’s mine isn’t supposed to be, and vice versa?

I can’t look forward to a weekend where my time doesn’t belong to me. Spent doing mindless errands. I would far prefer to be out riding my bike down a country lane, or creating something with my own hands sans computer.

Ironically, the only chunk of time sizeable enough in which to do this is when I’m at work. Endlessly waiting for the next brief, the next approval the next indication that it’s time for me to do something useful.

And so I constantly find myself in this place of feeling guilty for not doing what I’m paid to do, and feeling unfulfilled by not being able to do the things I love (when I’m supposed to have the time for them).

Advertisement