Tuesday, November 2, 2004 — My Birthday

I hate unproductive weeknights, and I’m beginning to think that my hate is wrong.

I crave productivity. I feel bad if I’m not making something all the time; say, keeping the house clean (thus making it look good), or updating a website, or at least reading a new book. Something. But as I think about it, I wonder whether that obssession is really healthy. Yes, productivity is generally good. I’m beginning to think that my need for productivity is mostly an internal drive to prove myself useful, though.

This may be partly due to last night. My stomach whined and complained all evening, making me so ill that I curled up in bed with a cup of hot chocolate and three Calvin & Hobbes collections. I read strip after strip of the two heroes laying out in the woods, as they enjoyed simply doing nothing. I wondered: Why don’t I do that any more? Why do I sign up to do so many things? Even when I don’t have things to do, I make up things to do. Why not just be?

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