Am I Supposed to Work During This?

It’s hard to concentrate during a coup attempt.

A hashtag strategy loses its #pizazz when Twitter kicks off the president.

Reviewing a storyboard for a fast casual food chain isn’t as appetizing when Anderson Cooper tells rioters to go back to the Olive Garden.

Wait, is it ok to stress eat unlimited salad and breadsticks when the salad dressing is the tears of actual small family businesses?

My mundane to-do list before the insurrection:

Finish a creative brief for the still officially named 2020 Olympics (happening in 2021)
Go to the grocery store for some snacks (need to remember a mask)
Puzzle with my wife (new quarantine hobby)
Watch basketball (where the fans are made of cardboard)

I’m tired. But that’s what happens when you’re living in a future history book while trying to conduct “normal” business via Zoom calls on the newest craziest day I’ve ever lived.

I’ve wanted to journal about all of this a while. Create a personal “what a time to be alive” capsule to reference when I’m older. But where do you start?

Work makes sense I think.

Work provides an identity for some. A purpose for others.

It’s a sacrifice for those without the option to manifest it from their passions.

Money from work dictates how and where you live, what your family relationships are like, where you go on vacation, who your friends are, what you have to look forward to, how you walk.

The most important and rewarding work sometimes doesn’t involve money at all.

Working hard is considered very American.

Proclamations of “Hard Work” are their own currency with an unequal exchange rate for the privileged.

There’s been no better time since I’ve been alive to think about work.

To be grateful for it. To consider what work needs to be done.

Should I care at all about my home office setup when people don’t feel at home living here?