I'm at work right now, and as usual I have little to nothing to do. I will probably leave early due to lack of students. It's still the dead season; although a new crop of students have arrived, I don't get my claws into them for about another month. In other words, another day packed with oodles of ennui.
I remember a time, not so long ago, when I went to work and actually worked. I miss that. I believe that constant activity at work leads to a more active home life, and I believe that because the negative is certainly true. I find that the less I do at work, the less I do at home. That doesn't make sense to me at first: I thought we all carried a finite amount of energy, which we expend either at work or at home.
On a typical Monday, for example, we put in eight or more hours at work at the office, factory, retail store, etc, then we get home, where we have just enough leftover energy to make dinner, watch some TV, and hit the hay. But that's just not so. Since my hours were cut, I've found that idleness at work leads to idleness at home; my daily energy shrank. It would seem to explain why I've been less active looking for work than I was in February, when looking for work was my job. I can't figure it all out any other way; the less I have to do at work, the less I want to do at home, which leads to not just idleness at work, but the desire to remain idle. Excess idleness feeds upon itself until you find yourself doing nothing more than the basic human activities for survival.
This is dangerous. I need to get off my butt. Hopefully I'll regain some of my old energy when I get back from North Carolina next week. One can hope, but hoping isn't much of an activity.
Comments