Tiredness as a sign of victory
He had just finished watching a new addition to the ranks of films that perpetuated the glorification of technology startup life; the life-affirming environment of growing a business using venture capitalists’ money; the wholly fulfilling results of working excessive hours to the detriment of all other aspects of life.
He reflected on the variety of ways that consumerism and capitalistic propaganda was packaged in this modern era: comedies; science fiction; heart-warming, cross-generational, thought-dulling tripe. He knew full well that he was judgmental. He viewed it as a curse. The curse of being awake. The curse of being detached from the unthinking majority.
He didn’t know where to lead his thoughts. He had a new book lying on the table next to his chair. The Double by José Saramago. He was seven pages in. He had started reading it earlier in the day. He had been determined, of late, to read more when he could. Today, a bank holiday, afforded him the ideal opportunity. He thought to himself that he would read a few more pages before bed. He grappled with the thoughts of tomorrow and the work obligations that would be brought in with the dawn of a new day.
Despite some of his uncomfortable feelings towards his work, he counted himself fortunate to not be within the taloned grip of vulture capitalists and he valued his state of wakefulness, however tired it tended to make him. To him, his tiredness was a sign of victory.
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