Sometimes You Just Need Caffeine

Sometimes you just need caffeine. It isn't a sin, but it is a drug. It's a stimulant, as you're well aware. As a stimulant it helps you give just a little bit more.

So I start my day with a cup of coffee and then re-up at lunch. It'd be nice to have more in the afternoon, but then I'd cross a line that costs me later. I'd create a scenario in which an immediate, but minimal benefit is paid for by a later and more significant loss.

I find this constant need for an extra ten percent to be an indictment against the great engine of the American economy, the American culture. You see, we push ourselves to do it all, to finish everything on the to-do list at work, and then at home. We never stop to wonder what we might discover if we didn't schedule our days weeks in advance. We rarely stop to consider the road untraveled, the things we left behind, whether friends, habits or something greater perhaps.

To some extent, that drive toward immediacy is an inherent flaw of our mortality and, to some extent, it is our greatest asset. Yet, it seems that in the current age of digital ascendence it would behoove us to stop, to listen, and to reflect.

Being single and childless, I have a great deal of time. Being relatively wealthy, I have a great deal of time. Being young, I have a great deal of time. I have a great deal of time to myself, time with which I can ponder things, mull over some of the great questions of life, time with which I could perhaps dedicate myself to examining my course through life. Yet...and yet I find myself chasing my tail. I start one thing and pursue it to an extent, but stop shy of it being meaningful, then endeavor to do something else. All the while, I invest time in bettering myself, in that I have been unerringly steady, but I know not to what end.

Fittingly, I lie writing this at a point during which I feel rather exhausted, tired, beat. I had a long week, but not exceptionally so. I worked a reasonable amount, and then returned home each evening to continue my work. The abnormal thing in this is that I did not simply lounge around and drink, I work toward creating things in my free time.

Yet, I sometimes wonder to what end I endeavor to create. I wonder whether perhaps it is a result of the same folly which drives children to create sandcastles, simply lacking in this instance the self-awareness that I am merely playing.

Whether as a result of stoic philosophy or perhaps nihilism, how would my efforts vary if I didn't operate under the pretense of them existing along with some significance?