I sit at my desk waiting for words to come out for an article that I have been writing for 3 months but to no avail. This feels as personal as perhaps a man would feel about an erectile dysfunction. Words can only flow when there’s passion and a genuine willingness to write but either of the two have been missing of late, it seems. I’m quick to blame this on my last full-time job which was as taxing as the last government. The job that I loved to hate and had ended up given so much to saw me fretting over things like revenue and business growth like my life depended on it – eventually paving way to a lifestyle that had no room for what I really loved doing.Maybe there should a rehab for people who over-commit with their jobs and then can’t go back to their normal lives. The word vacation looms in front of me like a mirage. Tempting but unrealistic. It lifts my hopes up for a second only to bring them back to the ground when logistics fall apart.
Deviating or deliberately choosing to not take part in the rat race is not easy. If you’re not running, you are automatically assumed to be sitting it out – even if you’ve your eyes set on a different track.
In an environment where everything is pre-planned for you, in a city that doesn’t accommodate the deviators it’s hard to just pick up your laptop and walk out – even if just for a stroll.
But the thing with life is, you just gotta keep moving, I think, as my fingers pick up their pace on the keyboard.