I don’t know if it is due to the loads of work which I am given everyday (yes, they pile up by the hour) or the lack on enthusiasm in myself to write about anything.
I have been very pre-occupied with several things which require most of my time in a day (and even some hours at night) that I usually arrive home and just fall asleep as soon my head hits the pillow. There are even times when I miss dinner.
I don’t know if it is good or bad. And I sometimes don’t even know what I am doing. But it would seem that I have no choice. My bosses seem to be quick to recall my name whenever something needs to be done as soon as possible.
I envy some of my officemates. I envy them because they are able to watch the Impeachment trials on live-stream while I am racking my brains out in the latest assignment or project that I am given. I envy them because they are able to watch downloaded episodes of some TV series during lunch breaks and slow afternoons.
I miss being a mere bureaucrat who gets to spend his eight-hour days doing nothing but pushing paper work. I miss being able to just sit and wait for the breaks and have my meals on time. I miss being able to go home as soon as the clock strikes six since I did not have nothing much to do during the day.
Then again, how does one actually call a day productive if one did nothing but watch the Impeachment trial while in the office cubicle? How does one sleep at night knowing that he or she is nothing but a wallflower at the office for eight-hours a day? How does one reconcile his conscience with receiving pay while almost exerting no effort to justify receiving it?
I actually don’t know what I am doing anymore.
A few months ago, I was happy to have arrived at where I am now. But it seems only lately that I realize that I have actually assumed a position akin to that of Sisyphus’. And I am pushing my boulder up the hill everyday, only to have it rolling down at the end of the day. Pushing it up again on the hill the following day.
Am I happy? I am not sure.
Is it rewarding? I really can’t tell.
Should I go on? I have no choice.
I shall take comfort in the thought that wherever I am now. And whatever I may have, as the cliche goes: This too shall come to pass.
Then again, where exactly am I?