An Artist and a Workaholic Meet at a Bar

She rushed in with the weight of a hundred worlds on her head. Even as she walked into the bar to meet a long-lost friend, her mind was miles away in front of her work laptop, trying to recall if she’d sent out that super urgent email as well as sorted out that other super urgent issue. Of late, it seemed a lot of things on her plate were prefixed with “super urgent”.

She almost missed her friend in the midst of this mental frenzy and nearly bumped into her bar stool. Just seeing her friend calmed her down instantly. While she was still dressed in work clothes, having made the choice to work until the last possible minute rather than take some time to change to something fun, her friend was dressed in a lovely, bright multicolor top and casual jeans. An assortment of bangles jingled on her hands and her hair was a messy chaos of curls just waiting to tumble down on those shoulders.

Just looking at her was like looking at her alter ego. They had always been close, joined at the hip. While one was all about work and putting her best foot forward no matter what the role, the other was all about art in all its glorious forms. She sang beautifully, drew intricate patterns, embroidered her own clothes, doodled on her furniture to produce some unique pieces, decorated her home tastefully… one could go on and on!

They looked into each others eyes and instantly enveloped each other in a hug. The workaholic felt like she found a part of her soul again and the artist felt the love, sadness and frustration emanating from her friend all at once.

“That bad huh?” said the artist, eyes full of understanding and no judgement. She knew her workaholic friend like she knew herself.

“Let’s just say I wish I could meet you more often, lose myself in those lovely zentangles, let my hands create beauty on a regular basis. There doesn’t seem to be enough time in the world for any of that anymore”, said the workaholic, thinking of her last attempt at painting still lying unfinished since nearly a year.

“You know what you need to do right? Just pick up that pen again and begin where you left off. Can you not spare an hour or two in the week to give yourself this simple joy of life? I miss you, and I miss seeing your lovely creations! You do know it’s entirely up to you, don’t you? They knew what they were talking about when they said all work and no play makes us dull people!”

“You’re right as always dear friend. I let things overwhelm me to the point that I seem to have forgotten the small, simple things that make me happy. I need to put myself first, my physical health, my mental health, my existence and take back control of my life and my time. I just don’t know how.”

The artist smiled and almost magically, the unfinished drawing appeared along with the drawing implements.

“Well that’s simple! All it takes is you picking up that pen, putting it to paper and letting that beautiful creativity inside you flow again”, she said, holding out the pen.

The workaholic shakily took the pen and looked at the intricate patterns in front of her. She almost instantly spotted the point at which she had stopped a few months ago. She joyously took the pen and began to draw, forgetting everything and everyone around her.

When she looked up after an hour or so, joy and satisfaction brimming in her eyes, she was in her home. The artist and the workaholic, both two sides of her personality had finally come together.

All she had to do, was pick up the pen.


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