On Saturdays I like to step away from creative work.
I used to sleep late on Saturday mornings, but this left me feeling lethargic, so now I try to get up around eight or so to let the sunlight in through my balcony doors. If it’s sunny (which it usually is this time of year) I’ll throw in a load of laundry to air-dry later in the morning and lay in bed reading until I feel like getting up. This morning instead of a book I read this essay from The Millions about writers living a life of uncertainty, which left me feeling inspired.
After reading but before leaving my bed I pull out my phone and check messages from the night before. I try not to overdo it, though, since it’s best not to get sucked into a social media vortex first thing in the morning.
I used to check email first thing on Saturday mornings too, but this left me feeling drained and empty regardless of what I found in my inbox, so I stopped. I’m writing this at one p.m. on a Saturday—I haven’t checked my email today and I genuinely don’t care. It’s midnight in America, so email can wait.
I like making nice breakfasts on Saturdays and Sundays—eggs, toast, and usually a single-serving package of Japanese bacon, but sometimes an omelet or pancakes. Since the weather got hot I started throwing milk, ice, and a heaping spoonful of instant coffee into a tall glass then dumping hot water over it to make the world’s easiest iced coffee. It gets the job done, and it’s a nice treat because I rarely drink coffee during the week.
Usually on Saturday mornings I’ve planned to video chat with someone in the States I’m close to—my parents, my brothers, friends from New Hampshire, a friend from some other phase of my life I want to keep in touch with. I try to lose myself in the conversation and not think about anything else because the social time is important and I don’t want to be distracted.
Sometimes I shower before these calls, but usually I shower after so I’m not in a hurry. Saturday showers are leisurely showers, and instead of hastily running a razor over my face in front of my fogged-up shower mirror I take time to properly shave over the sink while listening to a podcast. I also trim my sideburns and put on aftershave, though I’m not sure why I put so much effort into my appearance even on days I won’t be meeting anyone. Maybe it’s because Saturday grooming is for me, and not for anyone else.
After showering I usually have lunch—something simple like leftover rice and vegetables, a grilled cheese sandwich, or some noodles. Nothing that takes a lot of effort.
Sometimes on Saturday afternoons I do some light work on the computer, like drafting out this blog post or emailing a friend. Sometimes I do heavier work and I’m not happy about it, and thus finish out the afternoon feeling scatterbrained or not all there. Hence the desire to step away.
I also read a chapter in The Flowers of Evil, a Japanese manga I’m reading in the original after I discovered the English version a few years back. The characters’ struggles still feel urgent and real even in the semi-familiar language, and while I use a dictionary and keep a vocabulary notebook close by, reading it feels less like studying and more like something enjoyable.
In the mid- to late afternoon if it’s sunny I’ll ride my bike to the town library and read a book until six o’clock when it closes. I like getting out of my apartment to prevent that terrible cooped up feeling, and the library’s well heated in winter and well air-conditioned in summer, with a few comfortable leather chairs. The librarians all wear aprons and whisper Irasshaimase when people enter, forming a neat pairing with the whir of the automatic door. From where I sit I can see the spines of Japanese novel covers from the ‘80s and ‘90s and find this immensely comforting, somehow.
At exactly 5:50 the library turns on a classical music recording as a cue to leave, and I pack up my shoulder bag to go. In the evening cool I sometimes linger in the bike parking lot, or take a walk through the library garden.
After that I usually go grocery shopping and pick up a boxed dinner (usually sushi or some kind of seafood), but if I have enough food I’ll leave shopping until Sunday and make something simple at home. I keep a fold-up camping chair on my balcony and like to eat outside in summer after putting away the day’s laundry.
After dinner I’ll watch something—usually a movie, but sometimes Youtube videos or some episodes of a show. Other nights I’ll work on a jigsaw puzzle, play a video game, or read more of my book if I’ve gotten really into it. I also shut my phone off early so I won’t be bothered.
When it’s warm I keep my curtains open and the lights off so I can see the gentle glow of the streetlights outside. The neighborhood feels quiet, yet I also feel like I’m a part of something. This, along with whatever movie, show, or book I’ve immersed myself in, will leave my feeling energized and inspired, washing away that week’s memories of work and stress and maybe even a few disappointments.
These moments remind me that what I do matters, and that there’s meaning in the world.
This puts me in a place to wake up on Sunday and dive back into creative work, refreshed after a day of de-stressing but not yet distracted by the Day Job world.
The process doesn’t always go that smoothly, of course: there are interruptions, melancholy, setbacks, and Sunday morning board games with friends online that extend my weekend disconnect for a few precious hours. When the process does work, though, it’s a sign that I’m doing something right.
Cropped cover photo used under Creative Commons 2.0 license.