Growing up I went to many funerals. At every funeral all of the workaholic adults would stand around talking to each other about how it was too bad so-and-so who had just passed didn’t get to do more of the things they loved. Then everyone would go home and continue making the same mistake as so-and-so, only ever carving out time for work, disgruntled because they were raised on the belief in the value of hard work and hard work only and hadn’t yet managed to break the cycle.

This was confusing as a child. Especially one whose mother had died young. All the adults paid lip-service to a reasonable belief they were ultimately too afraid of embracing themselves. When they saw I had started to it was quickly labelled as laziness, a lack of motivation, an attitude problem. I wasn’t living up to my potential. They gave it any negative name they could think of without pause. It was as if every adult in my life at the time thought it was their duty to insult it out of me. My future was in jeopardy because I didn’t value cleaning the bathroom enough. It wasn’t until I made it through college, got hired and even got 86% on my EMCA (provincial certification exam) at a young age that that started to change. I was always dismayed at how my lack of interest in endlessly toiling away to make money for others or make things look pretty for others or just for the sake of being busy drew such ire. Idle hands became the devil’s tool when the church and state wanted the peasants to work harder for less and to think less, not because anyone cared about how those lives actually turned out.

When you live outside the thought box any conversation you attempt to have usually begins and ends with the others assuming you know and accept you’re wrong but that you will continue to argue just for the sake of being antagonizing. Because how could anyone reasonably think otherwise? It’s just an articulate excuse for laziness. Isn’t it?

It’s not my fault for what others have bought into.

The dirt you clean will re-appear but the time you spend cleaning it never will. No one ever judges you on how well or often you do the things you love; you’re judged on how well and often you persevere through the things you hate. Demonstrating endurance just for the sake of it always seemed kind of silly to me. If that shit floats your boat then good on you, live your life but don’t confuse ability with apathy or common with correct. There is more than enough work in life that actually has reason to be done. I’m good. I’m still getting better and I’m not falling for it.