Everything can be broken down into soul-sucking routines if you’re pessimistic enough.
Blink. Wake up. Rub your eyes. Lay in a lulled state, drifting off into that 30-second wonderland in which the world and its nagging issues fade in and out of existence, and all your problems can simply be stuffed into cardboard boxes in your closet.
And now, truly wake up. Well up with the horror that you’re about to confront the world yet again. Find your suit of armor. Cover yourself with it. Lock the door when you leave. Prevent your soul from getting completely sucked out by the societal vacuum. Fake a smile every once in a while. Look up the benefits of meditation, and never actually do any meditating. Continue to bed, and try to focus on your breathing instead of your existential dread. Breathe. Don’t hyperventilate. Slow down your breathing. Well, that’s kinda meditating.
Blink. Wake up again. Oh boy.
Repeat 5 more times, each time marking off one more day on the mental calendar. Wonder at the marvel and mystique of “the weekend” and all the thoughts and emotions that are associated with it.
The wait itself is the reward. They say that “good things come to those who wait.” The wait is the “good thing.” Coming up with fantasies about what you’ll do with all that free time, thinking of all the things that you can do, all the projects you can catch up on, and all the time that you have to yourself. All that free time, all that “me time,” all those possibilities, and all those proverbial empty checkboxes – it’s amazing what kind of tempests the brain can come up with when it’s dreading the present. Even if you never physically spend the time that you get, your brain can come up with a bunch of alternate universes in which you do. Don’t worry if you get sick on the weekend. Your brain will play out all your dreams for you, like a “Greatest Hits” album on loop. But all the hits are by you.
You don’t actually have to do anything at all on the weekend, really. The state of being in “the weekend” is comforting in itself. Any time you spend during the weekend is time well spent, because it’s time not working. It’s time spent being away from all your responsibilities. It’s time that you can be free. Free from the world, and free from the fickle follies of everything that resides in it. It’s an escape.
And what if you work on the weekends?
Ok, ok. All of this talk about fantasizing and “possibilities” runs back to one key idea: escapism. That’s it. I’m in love with escaping reality. It’s not solely a love for the weekends. It’s a love for everything that can take my sorry soul out of this world, and into something a little different. Something less mundane, or even something more mundane.
It’s like wanderlust, but for the guy who doesn’t want to deal with “travelling.”