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Another Independence Day come and gone. The weekend was very pleasant overall. The problem with all good times though is that they serve as an ever-present reminder that I’m not working.

I think I’ve come to resent my work a bit. Not the project itself, so much as the seemingly interminable drag of working itself, and the constant reminder that every moment of time that I spend not working, whatever the reason may be, is a debt I will have to pay in both spirit and body alike somewhere down the line.

I think the more honest truth though is that I’ve grown bored of my work. It no longer feels meaningful to me despite my best attempts at renegotiating it continuously with my evolving interests. Although I suppose it’s not to say that I’ve lost interest in it: just that everything else in my life has grown so much greater in comparison that it now feels insignificant. 

I suppose that’s a good thing in the greater sense of who I am. But none of that matters when it comes to hitting deadlines: and I will now admit that I am not hitting them, not even remotely.