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It's never enough! I wrote over two thousand words this morning, and then spent the rest of the day wondering what more I should do... Why is it never enough? I resent this. I resent the fact that I can't do enough and then stop. It always has to be more, it's always, "but what are you doing now?" This is what my parents have given me, this is the work ethic I've learned from them. It's fucking stupid. This is what I'm rebelling against when I do nothing all day. Because, if I do nothing for a minute it's the same sick guilt as if I'd done nothing the whole day; the only way to hold it off is to work like a slave, all day, every day, forever, just like my father did. I grew up and then he decided it might be interesting to get to know me. That's not how I'm going to live my life. I will not be a slave to this guilt.
But I want to work; I want to do a reasonable, moderate amount of work every day, and be satisfied with it. Why is that impossible for me?
"But when they said 'sit down'
I stood up;
Ooh, growin' up" - Bruce Springsteen
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