buying, or spending, your way into belonging.

I cannot imagine a world where I do not spend my whole life working. Work is perhaps the closest thing to a universal language that I know. This constant, heavy pressure that I should always be working is in control of where I focus my life, who I spend my time with, what I spend my time on. And I cannot imagine a freedom in no longer working becau

Having a deadline looming is almost a peaceful thing because it feels as if the deadline simplifies all the variables of living. It forces everything not deadline-related to blur out of focus.

The most productive years of my life so far have also been my loneliest. I don’t know if the loneliness was a requisite for this, but I also don’t have any productive years where I haven’t been lonely to compare this to. Even knowing that “most productive” should not be the goal of my years to begin with, I have still learned to be more comfortable

a conversation is a gift of somebody’s time and attention.

When I am not able to work—when I am out with friends, or having a conversation with someone, or traveling, or buying groceries, or doing the laundry, or eating—I get this itchy, hollow longing that doesn’t go away until I am in front of my work again. If I were talking about a person, I suppose that might be called love. It doesn’t feel right to c

Instead of Goodbye, I’d like to start saying Goodbye, again. See you later cannot be promised, but Goodbye, again reminds us that we’ve done this before.

This is a learned response. People will forgive you for not doing anything else with your time or for not having any free time at all if you’re busy, I tell myself. People will praise you for working more, for finding more time to be productive.

Sadness isn’t the visitor, you are.