I have been asked these days, what am I doing so late at night, because of them I see the light on in my room, sometimes until 3-4 in the morning. I answered that I was working. Because I need shoes, because even though mine are full of money, instead of supporting me at least morally, that’s all, they take, both materially and morally.
I’m complaining…I know. Yes, in this article I am complaining. I promise this is the last time I do it, for me.
I developed a feeling of self-pity, a feeling that I think will go away. This feeling also comes from the fact that I pity others in difficult situations, and then I think, this feeling of pity extends to my own person.
I work late because I need razors, to shave, a haircut, which costs money and no one gives me, on the contrary, they put sticks in my wheels. Because I need soap, shampoo, for personal hygiene, things that I bring into the household, and no one pays for them. Because I need clothes. From the card to the phone, money with which to go to confession and communion, to put akathis, because money is needed there too. For food, for a vacation, for, for, for…. And especially a touch, a simple hug, or at least an innocent touch by a woman, not on intimate areas, at least on the arm, on the foreskin. Now that I said it, I wouldn’t accept it anymore because it would come out of pity.
I get in return…mountains of hate. I try my best not to be persnickety. Not to profit, to be fair. I think I am correct. So right that I tend to cross the low line of idiocy and stupidity and drown in it. I noticed that those who are laughed at are the ones who are correct in thought and deed. Those who impose themselves are those who cheat, who deal with illegalities, who harm others in order to be themselves… well.
I’m complaining, I know. Yes, in this article I am complaining. I promise this is the last time I do it, for me.
Returning to the title. Some work to a schedule, some don’t. It depends on what works for everyone. Some regard holy sleep with sanctity. He must…sleep, if possible…and them.
Some…work, on night shifts, as guards or in guards. Having a job in the past where I have to get up as soon as the alarm goes off and go to work the second it goes off, I can’t really sleep at night. Which only makes me happy because at night I have peace and I can work hard and hard. I can read, and understand what I read, I can paint (my passion) without the commotion around.
As a freelancer, whether you are a blogger, programmer, copywriter, etc., it is good to work when you feel like working, when you feel like it, and the obligation to work. You can’t force yourself to sleep, if you have a contract that requires you to work at a certain time, because… you have to sleep.
The monks at the monastery, if I am to go by this register, wake up twice a night, watch and pray for two hours each, sleep four hours a night, and work hard during the day. Then comes a bully to say that they fuck kids.
You go, become a monk, sleep four hours a night, and be free from work during the day, because nobody keeps you if you don’t work, and you don’t respect the schedule of the monastery, and then you sit and be looked down upon by… I don’t know how let’s call them, probably ready money kids, who will see at some point what life means… and how it can screw you, no matter who you are. Life, this wonderful gift, which is priceless, and which I still think is beautiful, and that after it, after it ends, there is another, the afterlife, where you can be good or bad, depending on what you made this world.
Concluzionând. Nu. Nu este neapărat obligatoriu, ca freelancer, ca blogger independent, să ai un program. Nichita Stănescu scria noaptea, pictorul Bălașa, picta doar noaptea, etc. Fiecare își câștigă pâinea cum poate și când poate, ziua, noaptea, dimineața, vinerea sau sâmbăta, duminica sau joia, muncind mai mult sau mai puțin. Înșelând statul sau pe alții sau săpând șanțuri. Omorând ca mercernari în războaie sau pictând tablouri și vânzându-le fanilor lor.
Concluding. Not. It is not necessarily mandatory, as a freelancer, as a freelance blogger, to have a schedule. Nichita Stănescu wrote at night, the painter Bălașa, painted only at night, etc. Everyone earns his bread as he can and when he can, day, night, morning, Friday or Saturday, Sunday or Thursday, working more or less. Cheating the state or others or digging ditches. Killing as mercenaries in wars or painting paintings and selling them to their fans.
Reconcluding. Do what is right. Thus you are at peace with your soul. When you don’t know what is right or wrong, consult the Bible’s 10 Commandments…Thou shalt not steal, thou shalt not kill, etc. Consult the labor code, if you are an employer, consult the criminal code, the civil code, the code of good manners, the traffic code, etc.
Leave the trick, leave the surprise, because at the end of every trick is a deep valley, a slippery and steep precipice, and you have nothing to catch and no way to climb back up. Down, at the bottom of the abyss, is the truth that always comes out, the reality, and you have no friends and no one to help you, to support you, and to be… close to you, be it a relative, a colleague, a brother, a sister, brother-in-law, etc.
Money comes and goes, expensive cars break down, banks claim, rates pile up. Those who work, have. For those who live from the work of the earth – respect! For the charlatans who take advantage of naivety and influence, who make their money from terror, fraud, drugs (which ruin the lives of weak-willed young people) I have pity and contempt. I foresee a bleak future for them.