Oh dear! Sunday.

A couple of years ago, I used to be this energetic young man who’d despise the idea of sitting idly and doing nothing. Today that young man who’d have hated on what he has become. Information and it’s lust has always had its strong influence on how I spend my time. I’d read, a lot. My home was a mess full of books, of all kinds right from a book on soviet space program which had really nice pictures and artistic renderings to a lot dictionaries, from books which never made sense to me back then to books which explained laws. I never read them fully though as I was always distracted by the idea of something new, which has affected me a lot when it comes to professional and personal life both positively and negatively. But the core idea remains the same, what makes a Sunday useful? Is it getting your laundry done? Or getting your house cleaned? Or Relaxing cos you’ve worked too hard last week? I’d say its perception on how you take it. I made a close friend read the last piece of my writing, he’s both a good reader and a critic I respect. As he finished, he turns his head towards me and thud! I receive the hammer of thor on my back and he goes onto say "how come someone who knows so much can act such dumb!?", and indeed he’s right? I know things can right now shape the best out of me right now but to execute those ideas have never been the priority. My idea and this article until now are a very fitting explanation of how misdirected I’m. Yet the chaos and charm have kept you reading, intrigued that I’ll talk more about the 'ideal Sunday' we all would want know about is going to come now. But the sad fact is, there’s nothing as fictional as a Sunday, it should never be productive, for it was born to relive the life we all would want to live like. Free of prejudice and explanation, the day where we would want to live in the skin of our true identities. Those who claim they have spent their weekends productively are mere slaves of the social norms, to them it becomes a necessity to explain it to the world on how efficient of being a less human they are and how close to being a machine. Though I don’t take a guarantee on how you’re gonna feel at the end of 8’o clock on Sunday, because that’s where it hurts the most. A dipping heart, a feeling of remorse is going to hit you asking you the the very question on why did you listen to the procrastinated side yours to spend a whole day watching indie movies and documentaries about wars and kings which are absolutely nothing but factual fables, which in itself is an oxymoron but duh so is a productive Sunday. In the end I’d say, we all have a list of things to do on Sunday, which we’ve missed, but don’t worry the idea that 'next one' won’t be like last is what the humanity has triumphed up on and so will you. Until then, watch the clock count the hours left and celebrate a remorse of Monday morning, awaiting right at your semi sleepy eyes next day.