I'm going to share with you a series of thoughts that crossed my mind a few months ago and made me question not only what I was doing with my life but also what I really wanted. I was at home one Sunday when I suddenly received some messages from friends inviting me to spend a day at the beach. I immediately thought that the next day, Monday, I had work first thing in the morning, so I had to not only organize and review some tasks, but also lay out the clothes I would wear the next morning. So, even though I really wanted to go to the beach, I decided to decline the invitation and stay home.

Because of this, even before, I thought that I have often stopped doing things because of the work I do: that schedule that already seems like a broken record. It's not that I don't like doing my job, but I feel that it limits my ability to develop and do other things. The time I have to devote to preparing classes, grading exams, and grading papers can be so much that it prevents me from doing things I've wanted to experience or do for a long or short time. In that sense, my job is a limitation, an invisible burden on my shoulders.

During the pandemic, when classes were virtual and work slowed down considerably, I was able to devote myself to reading and writing, so much so that my daily writing resulted in a novel. Feeling that I had done something I had always wanted to do made me feel proud of myself and gave me enormous satisfaction. That made me think about the possibility of devoting myself to writing every day, working on that creative side that I have been experimenting with and developing here at Hive.

But there's my job. My job requires in-person attention, planning, and dedication every day of the week, so while I'm working, I doubt I can devote time to other things that might give me more satisfaction but don't pay my bills. And the thing is, quitting a job, in this day and age, in my country, is more than an act of rebellion; it's an act of suicidal immaturity.

So, I imagine that when I retire, which I hope will be this year, I will have time to do those things that I have stopped doing because of one work activity or another. Perhaps getting up late, having breakfast and coffee without the threat of a schedule, reading a book while savoring bread with delight, thinking about my next story, my next trip, the next adventure of any character, while smiling and sighing with the certainty that there are other ways of inhabiting the world that are less pressing and exhausting.