I have nothing to do, so I rest, or watch the time pass, not waste, because you can’t waste what is not yours. It gets difficult to wait at some point. So, I try to pass the time faster, as oxymoronic as it sounds. But again, there is not much to do, so I indulge myself in mindless activities, waiting.

I have so much to choose from to do that I have nothing to do. No, not overwhelmed; somewhat lazy, maybe, with some nuance. Everything is with some nuance.

I guess I get by with the bare minimum but that bare minimum is morphed, slowly, from ideals actually. As expectations face reality, they both change a bit to look like each other, and this repeats until they are indistinguishable save for the remains—the marks—of their origins. Still, even with these bare minima, there is much to do for me. I just had this idea that I need to make a to-do list for each class of responsibility, a to-do list of to-do list, if you will. It might sound organized at first but a second hearing exposes it as just another act of distraction. Look at all my tasks neatly1 organized! Aren’t they pretty? So I thought of it, then I scoffed at my own idea. Append to the to-do list, I guess.

  1. exceedingly neatly indeed ↩