Ten & a Half Hours Later

Trying to catch a tan in the middle of work is no easy feat

Ten and a half hours. Apparently, that’s how long I need to sleep for me to conjure up the will to start writing again.

I stopped writing for about a month. Not because I

had some dramatic existential crisis or I ran out of things to complain about. If anything, I probably had more opinions than usual.

I was simply busy with life and work, and honestly, trying to catch up on my sleep. God, what I would do for a week of good sleep.

My inkling for writing creeps up here and there during the past month, and there is a strange pressure that comes with writing regularly. If I don’t publish omething, it can feel as though I am falling behind, as if the algorithm is shaking its head in disappointment.

Despite the small number of you readers, I truly appreciate each and everyone of you (especially those who write to me) for taking the time for this small passion of mine. The modern world has a way of convincing us that if we are not constantly producing, posting, and broadcasting our thoughts, we are somehow… irrelevant.

Over the past month, I was working, building my business, reading, observing, and trying to make sense of a world that seems to become more expensive, unstable, and absurd with each passing week. Wars continue, artificial intelligence grows smarter, and every other day there is a new study telling us that either coffee will save our lives or kill us slowly. With so much going on, it becomes difficult to know what deserves our attention and what is simply noise.

And here I am, barely surviving, trying to keep up with being healthy, looking fit and sharp, productive at work, innovative, and being a good son and partner, and parents to my two beautiful fur babies. I have a few hours every night before bed to truly enjoy my own thoughts. I miss that. I am a firm believer that we should spend quality time alone to really get to know oneself.

What I realized in the past month is also that writing is not just about typing. The actual writing often happens long before a single word appears on the screen. Writing happens while living, paying attention, and quietly collecting thoughts every single day. Sometimes ideas need time to sit and mature, and if you’re an idealist like me, you wait for that spark. I believe not every thought improves by being shared immediately.

So while no one was waiting for my piece to get published, I felt an immense pressure to post. But I’ve come to realize a little break is probably necessary. Creativity, like most worthwhile things, moves in cycles. There are periods when you produce, and there are periods when you absorb and both are equally important.

I think this website could use a bit of an upgrade as well. At the moment, it looks like an apartment that was furnished quickly and then left alone for a few years. Functional, but not exactly brimming with style. And if you know me, style always comes first.

I have a few ideas for what I want to do with it, and now that I seem to have rediscovered both my writing habit and my circadian rhythm, this feels like a good time to start.

I have also started a small and very humble book club discussion group on Instagram. “Book club” may sound more sophisticated than it really is. At this stage, it is essentially a place for people who enjoy reading and would like to talk about books without pretending they have fully understood every sentence on the first pass. If that sounds like your kind of thing, you are more than welcome to join.

That is all I wanted to say for today. Thank you for taking a few minutes out of your day to read these thoughts of mine. I will see you again next Sunday, assuming all goes according to plan and I behave like a responsible adult by going to bed earlier on Saturday night.

Ten and a half hours. I will set my alarm, or more accurately, I will set several alarms and ignore at least two of them.

Good night.