Work kills?

“Work is sooo boring, one feel he could be doing something better with that time, those many many hours wasted just for survival.”

These are the words of a friend as he bemoaned his listless existence and the burdensome curse called work.

I would be the first to agree with him that the idea of work is unfair and pathetic, since it only seems to serve those not working. The rest of us find no solace in it except the idea that we might receive a reward at the end of the month.

However my optimistic self jumps in and declares that work is not as futile as I would like to make it. Yes it seems like all this hard work is for nought and there is few and far in between labours of love.

My optimistic self highlights to me that actually the problem with work lies not in the act of labouring itself it is in the idea I hold about it. The motivational speakers would say that it is attitude.

Then I rise up and argue; no, the problem with work is the idea of it. It inspires thoughts of worth, security and meaning to life. Labouring instigates designs that you will feel better; self-worth is linked to it, success and all other problematic conceptions.

I am torn between being constructive in my existence or just plain knotty.

Even as I rile against these impressions I have towards work, I know I have to just sit and do some work. For now I have resigned myself to engage in other activities that make life seem more meaningful. (See that idea again).