Writing Practice

I had a sudden realization today and I really identify with Chandler from friends. All these days, I had been saying to myself that I do not care about work because I never dreamed about end to end delay or audio/video quality. Sadly, I realized that I do deeply care about some things, and I caught myself pining to go back to work and see through the task I had left unfinished. Maybe, it is the satisfaction derived from being productive, of having seen a difficult task through with good results to show for my efforts. How pathetic. Pathethic because if true, I had to wait for such a long time since my birth for this. I am only fully revelling in this experience now. Maybe this is why I turn to cleaning and other household chores during those now ever-so-frequent, spontaneous and short-lived moments of personal crises. If only I had the testosterone and adrenaline rush of the days of my early youth, which I mistook for sheer will, to actually get those things done which have no immediate payoffs, but are nevertheless very important. What I need now is a source of suffering so devastating that it catalyses my ongoing efforts to keep myself from being distracted. I can only write this measly stub of paragraph for now because of said state of being distracted.