Self Maid

Exploring themes of the self, society, design, the environment, nature, and animals, for a balanced life and a more compassionate world. Also, like, mainly just a vapid lifestyle blog.

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  • On Hold at Work: Workplace Boreout and Wasted Potential

    There are few professional indignities as quietly corrosive as boredom. Not the idle boredom of a lazy Sunday or the luxuriant drift of a long train ride, but the sterile, institutional variety that creeps into offices and open-plan workspaces, where the hum of productivity somehow bypasses you entirely. To sit at your desk with nothing meaningful to do is to feel the peculiar sensation of being both present and absent. Emails are answered, tasks are complete, but skills remain untapped. You are there, but unnecessary. Available, but unused.

    It is in this state that restlessness takes root. A bodily impatience so severe it can feel like crawling out of one’s own skin (no, it’s not just the jitter of over caffeination). The hours stretch, like an elastic on the verge of snapping. Every keystroke becomes a performance of utility, every browser tab a discreet escape route. All failed distractions from the thought, “I could be doing so much more”.

    The modern workplace often celebrates the language of “engagement,” yet so rarely addresses the opposite: disengagement born not of apathy, but of neglect. The problem is not a lack of willpower or creativity, it is the starvation of opportunity and mismatched needs. For the highly skilled, the creative, and the curious, there is no torment quite like watching one’s abilities sit idle. The mind sharpens itself against resistance, and without it, begins to dull.

    Psychologists call this phenomenon “boreout,” a cousin of burnout and, in many ways, its mirror.

    Boreout: Burnout’s Silent Cousin

    Coined by business consultants Peter Werder and Philippe Rothlin, the term describes the slow corrosion that happens when employees are consistently under challenged. If burnout is the exhaustion of overuse, boreout is the decay of underuse. The symptoms, fatigue, irritability, disengagement, mirror burnout. both states can corrode confidence, motivation, and health and hollow out a career from the inside. But boreout has the crueler irony: to feel depleted not by too much work, but by too little. For ambitious or skilled professionals, this wasted potential can be more demoralizing than overwork itself.

    How Boreout Manifests in Daily Work Life

    • Endlessly drafting reports no one reads
    • Attending meetings that could have been an email
    • Perfecting the art of looking busy rather than being needed
    • Spending more time browsing tabs than applying skills

    This isn’t simply boredom; it’s a steady erosion of meaning, which over time can impact confidence, creativity, and even health.

    Reclaiming Meaning and Purpose at Work

    For those caught in this inertia, the challenge is twofold: to advocate for more meaningful responsibilities where possible, and, when not, to seek parallel outlets where one’s skills can find purpose. Side projects, volunteer work, continuing education may all feel like an attempt at filling a void, but they can also rewire something in your brain, and help you see your situation in a different light and see a new path. Restlessness, after all, is the body’s signal that you are capable of more. It is not merely discomfort. It is a call to action.

    In the meantime, many of us will continue to sit in meetings that need not exist, drafting reports no one will read, or perfecting the art of looking busy. But beneath the stillness lies a truth worth naming: to be bored at work is not to be ungrateful. It is to be underutilized. And perhaps the first step in reclaiming one’s sense of purpose is admitting you might be at the tail end of this chapter in your life and a page turn away from the new one. You just have to stay awake long enough to flip the page.

  • When Everyone Posts: What It Means to Create When You May Never Stand Out

    One of the most exciting exposures thanks to the social-media era is the sheer abundance of talent on display. Scroll through any corner of the internet (while skillfully dodging brain rot content and A.I. slop) and you will find a vast landscape of writers, musicians, designers, and artists, each seemingly more skilled, more polished, more articulate than the last. It raises an unsettling question (one that has plagued me my entire life): in a world already brimming with brilliance, what compels someone to enter the fray at all?

    It feels like everywhere I look, there’s evidence that I’m not at the top of anything I’m interested in. Not that I have ever aspired to be the best at anything, it’s just not how I function (I’m kind of a professional dilettante), but I’ve at least hoped I could provide an edge, or a uniqueness. But with every new newsletter popping into my inbox, I too realize almost none of my experiences and observations worthy of sharing are unique.

    The paradox is clear: never has it been easier to publish, and never has it been more difficult to feel seen.

    Of course, growing up at the same time that the internet was taking over only amplified this feeling in me. Every scroll, every new piece of content, every tweet, blog post, or interview is another reminder that there are people out there who are better, faster, and more brilliant on their toes than I could ever be. The democratization of platforms ensures visibility but also sharpens comparison. To attempt to “make it” in such an environment requires either extraordinary self-belief or an ability to detach from the incessant metrics of talent and recognition.

    As a hobby writer, I see strangers online who can effortlessly weave words into something entertaining and informative. I see past colleagues and acquaintances who seem to have a natural flair for storytelling that make you reflect on your own perspectives or feel something. And then there’s me, sitting here with post-pandemic brain rot, struggling to remember grammar rules I used to know like the back of my hand and how to make sentences land in a way that doesn’t sound artless.

    So I wonder how my peers handle that. How do others find the courage to keep showing up, knowing that they will just be another cog in a wheel that goes nowhere? Do they ignore the comparison entirely? Do they convince themselves that “good enough” is still worth pursuing? Does anyone else feel like me and think, “why bother when there’s little chance you’ll have it made?“

    It’s not that I don’t enjoy writing (or photographing, or designing, or jewelry making, etc. etc.). I do. But passion gets tangled with doubt when I’m faced with all the evidence that I might just be one of many who will never quite break through, never quite stand out. And when I see others who are wider-eyed than me, who keep creating and putting themselves out there despite knowing the competition, I can’t help but wonder: what do they know that I don’t? What do they tell themselves that I can’t? Perhaps they understand something fundamental: that creation is not only about surpassing others but about sustaining a practice. That even in a saturated field, there is value in the act of contributing, whether or not it reshapes the canon. I’m just not sure that’s enough for me.

    The question then shifts from “Why bother if I can’t move the needle?” to “What does it mean to create if having an impact or finding success is not even the goal?” Maybe the goal is simply the act itself: being disciplined, vulnerable, and creative.

  • A Comeback to Blogging: Choosing Words Over Noise

    Blogging feels like a ghost town these days. What used to be the trendy new neighbourhood of the internet (think the Ossington strip in Toronto in 2015), the place where we traded ideas, shared our messy drafts of life, and argued in the comments section, has now been paved over by endless streams of short videos, polished images, and algorithm-fed “content.” If blogging isn’t already six feet under, it’s definitely being lowered into the ground as we scroll.

    So why am I here, tapping away on a keyboard, writing words destined to be read by only a handful of people (if that)? Because this feels more real.

    The internet has shifted toward pictures, then videos, and now AI-churned slop that can be consumed in seconds. Every new post has to be flashier, trendier, more optimized. But with every layer of polish, something raw and human gets stripped away. Blogging, in all its imperfect, long-winded, typo-ridden glory, reminds me of a simpler and more honest time.

    Back then, we didn’t write for reach. We wrote for the modest satisfaction of articulation. Words arranged in paragraphs, rather than compressed into captions or spliced into clips, encourage a kind of engagement that is contemplative rather than reactive. A blog wasn’t a performance; it was a place. A small corner of the internet you could paint however you wanted. A place where people could stumble across your thoughts, not because the algorithm decided they should, but because they went looking. That slower, less performative rhythm feels humble in comparison to the neon speed of today’s feeds.

    Blogging isn’t sexy anymore. It’s not lucrative, it’s not viral, and it won’t land me on anyone’s “For You” page. And that’s exactly why I’m coming back to it. As digital platforms trend ever more toward spectacle, the act of writing in a quiet corner of the web takes on a humble quality. Writing here feels like walking into an old coffee shop when the world has moved on to delivery apps. The workers still smile when taking your order, the menu is simple, yet familiar, and the conversations are real.

    So yes, blogging may be half-buried, but maybe that’s the perfect place for something honest to grow again.

  • The Economics of Energy: Expanding My Capacity to Do

    Daily writing prompt
    What skill would you like to learn?
    View all responses

    Modern life is abundant in opportunities but sparse in energy. The challenge for many is not a lack of ambition, skills, or intelligence, but rather the ability to marshal these resources without succumbing to fatigue. This is the conundrum I face. I have always had a wide range of passions: creative projects, athletic interests, intellectual explorations, personal growth practices. I know I am capable, resourceful, and intelligent. Yet, too often, I find myself drained after doing just one or two meaningful things in a day. The weight of fatigue limits me, even when motivation and inspiration are abundant.

    The limiting factor is not imagination but capacity. The distinction matters. To seek increased capacity is not to bow to the cult of productivity, with its fetishization of ceaseless activity. It is instead to pursue the sturdier infrastructure–physical stamina, mental clarity, and emotional steadiness–upon which a varied, fulfilling life can rest. A greater capacity to act does not necessarily mean doing more, but doing enough, without collapse.

    In economics, scarce resources must be allocated wisely. The same is true of personal energy. Sleep, nutrition, and exercise form the foundation, but they are easily eroded by poor habits, overcommitment, and distraction. Mental energy is similarly finite: too much context-switching diminishes output, while unresolved emotional tension further saps reserves.

    Just as nations invest in infrastructure to support long-term growth, so individuals must invest in the infrastructure of their own energy. For me, this translates into a conscious plan:

    1. Physical

    • Regular exercise to sustain energy levels, with an emphasis on consistency rather than exertion.
    • Treating rest as a central pillar rather than a negotiable luxury.
    • Prioritizing eating nutritious food at proper intervals throughout the day.

    2. Cognitive

    • Training myself to complete one thing with full presence before moving to the next, reducing cognitive strain.
    • Creating small rituals between tasks to reset attention.

    3. Emotional

    • Daily journal reflection to process stress and keep emotions from bottling up.
    • Saying no to commitments that don’t align with my long-term vision, even when they sound appealing in the moment.
    • Focusing on relationships that replenish rather than deplete.

    Rather than overloading myself, I will treat capacity-building as training. Like adding weight at the gym, I’ll introduce just one extra meaningful task into my day, hold it with consistency, and only then layer in more. The goal isn’t speed, it’s sustainability.

    Increasing my capacity isn’t just about doing more. It’s about living fuller. It’s about aligning my physical, mental, and emotional energy so that my wide array of interests coexist rather than compete. If successful, the prize is not simply higher output but a richer quality of life: one in which breadth of interest and depth of engagement are no longer mutually exclusive.

  • Why Being a Pocket-Watcher is Loser Behaviour

    In today’s world, everyone is on their own journey when it comes to money, success, and personal growth. Yet, one toxic habit keeps resurfacing in conversations online and offline: pocket-watching.

    If you’re not familiar with the term, pocket-watching simply means obsessing over someone else’s money. What they earn, how they spend it, or how they choose to invest. At first, it might sound harmless, but in reality, it’s one of the most counterproductive and loser-like behaviours you can engage in.

    When you spend time worrying about someone else’s finances, it usually reflects your own insecurities. Instead of focusing on building your own wealth and opportunities, you’re wasting mental energy comparing yourself to others. Jealousy disguised as “curiosity” won’t get you anywhere. It just keeps you stuck.

    Pocket-watching doesn’t always show up as open jealousy. Sometimes it comes in the form of nosy questions like, “So… how much do you make?,” “How much is your rent?,” or “How much was that purse?”

    Not only are these questions intrusive and gauche, but they also make you look insecure and socially unaware. Money is a personal subject, and unless someone chooses to share, pressing them about their finances is tacky. It signals that you’re more interested in measuring yourself against others than minding your own business.

    The harsh truth? Winners don’t have time to care about what other people do with their money. Successful people know that time and energy are their most valuable resources. They don’t squander those resources by gossiping about what others have. While you’re busy counting someone else’s bills, or interrogating them about prices, those of a higher rank are focused on growing their income streams, developing skills, and enjoying life.

    “She doesn’t deserve that job,” “If I had that kind of money, I’d do better.” Pocket-watching often leads to bitterness. This negativity creates a toxic mindset that pushes opportunities, relationships, and growth away. And when you pair that with prying questions about what people earn or spend, you just look bitter and entitled.

    Money Conversations Should Be About Growth, Not judgement.

    There’s nothing wrong with discussing money in a way that helps everyone improve. Talking about investing, saving, budgeting, and building multiple streams of income can be empowering. But pocket-watching isn’t financial literacy. It’s financial envy. One builds community and knowledge. The other tears people down.

    Instead of worrying about who’s making what (or how much their skincare routine costs) redirect that energy and focus on your own earnings. When you focus on your own growth, you stop caring about how someone else spends their money because you’ll be too busy securing your own success.

    At the end of the day, trying to get a sense of the finances of those around you distracts you from your own potential and makes others uncomfortable. If you truly want to move up in the world, stop counting other people’s riches and start building your own.

  • Tomorrow, I Start With Me

    Tomorrow, I Start With Me

    Tomorrow, like every day, my number one priority is myself. No, not in a selfish way, but in a mindful, necessary way that keeps me grounded, sane, and ready for (almost) whatever comes. It’s the small things I do that matter most: checking in with how I feel, moving my body if I can, eating well if I can stomach it, planning my day, and giving myself a moment of pause before diving into everything else. These are the rituals that make me strong enough to meet the world without losing myself.

    Focusing on myself isn’t indulgent, it’s strategic. I prioritize my energy so I can show up fully for the people I care about. When my parents need help or want to hang out or when a friend wants advice or wants company. Or when a cat needs adopting (…👀). When life throws a challenge or cause for celebration at someone I love, I want to have the patience, clarity, and strength to step in. That’s the real reason I start with myself: to prepare for the moments that actually matter.

    And yet, much of my energy is siphoned away by things that don’t matter at all. Endless administrative tasks, pointless meetings, errands that feel like they exist just to take time. They drain me in ways that don’t build me up, don’t deepen my connections, and don’t leave me stronger for the people I care about. It’s frustrating, because I can feel myself running on empty before the moments that truly require me even arrive. But I’ve learned that protecting even small pockets of energy for myself makes all the difference. It’s my way of saying, “I am ready when it really counts.”

    So tomorrow, I’ll start with me. I’ll check in, breathe, organize my day. And when the moment comes that calls for someone else, I’ll answer. Prioritizing myself is not a refusal to give, it’s preparation to give well.

    Daily writing prompt
    What’s your #1 priority tomorrow?
    View all responses

    PS: Well yes, I am an only child. How did you guess?

  • The Simple Secret to Smarter Email Communication: Direct Links

    The Simple Secret to Smarter Email Communication: Direct Links

    Let’s be real: if you send emails to your colleagues and subordinates that essentially say, “Please update that one Excel sheet in that one folder in that one SharePoint library” without including the link, you can remove diligent, mindful, and meticulous from your self-descriptors. Asking someone to waste time scavenging for a file you already have open is careless, lazy and inefficient. And in a workplace where results matter (not sure I’ve ever heard of one where they don’t), inefficiency is costly.

    Time is money, but more importantly, time is sanity. By including links in your emails, you give recipients a straight shot to the document. No hunting. No guessing. No awkward “Which version do you mean?” emails. *Click*. Done. And suddenly, your team has minutes back in their day (minutes they could spend doing something that actually matters).

    If everyone is digging around for the “correct” file, mistakes are inevitable. The wrong formula, the outdated version, the mysterious “final-final-2” file… nightmare. A simple link guarantees everyone is working from the same, correct document. Precision like this reduces errors, prevents unnecessary backtracking, and keeps projects moving efficiently.

    Your emails should be as clear as your suits are sharp. An email with a clear link says: “I know what needs to be done, and I’m making it easy for you because I respect your time.” Eliminating ambiguity means fewer follow-ups, fewer missteps, and faster execution. Clarity is power. And power moves projects forward.

    You are the Standard. When leadership consistently includes links, it sets expectations. The team naturally mirrors the behavior. Suddenly, efficiency isn’t optional, it’s the baseline. When everyone adopts this approach, work moves faster and smarter, not harder.

    Pro Tips for Email Efficiency

    • Link the latest version of the document.
    • Use clear, descriptive text rather than raw URLs. Example: “Visit the Self Maid Blog” instead of “visit https://selfmaid.blog/“
    • Check permissions so recipients can access it immediately.
    • If multiple documents are involved, label them clearly to avoid confusion.

    Failing to include links in emails is a small mistake that costs time, creates errors, and signals disorganization. Including them is a simple, high-impact strategy. It streamlines workflows, keeps everyone aligned, and shows you operate with precision and focus. In short: it’s smart, it’s efficient, and it works.

  • Why are gyms like… that?

    Is it just me, or do most workout spaces have a weird, unpleasant energy? And not just one kind of unpleasantness. It’s like each gym seems to specialize in its own unique flavor of it.

    Some are claustrophobic, with low ceilings and too much equipment crammed into too little space. Others feel intense: sweaty, loud, packed with people training like they’re auditioning for an action movie. Then there are the male-dominated ones, where you can’t shake the feeling of being sized up every time you touch a dumbbell. And of course, the pretentious gyms, where the branding is stronger than the sense of community.

    And don’t even get me started on the fees. Some of these places act like a monthly membership should cost the same as a flight overseas.

    I’ve been searching up and down my commute route, hoping to find a spot that feels welcoming, motivating, and chill. Something convenient enough that I don’t dread the logistics before I even walk in the door. But so far? No luck.

    I tried a community centre. It was accessible, not too bad, but also not very motivating. I tried one of those high-intensity boutique group fitness places (think F45 or Orange Theory). I liked the efficiency of being in and out in under an hour. But the coaches pushed so hard, trying to drag me past the point I knew was safe and comfortable for my body, that I ended up feeling alienated instead of empowered. I tried an all women’s gym and it was my favourite. But it closed down and so did my hope for a fitter body.

    So here I am, in this strange place where I want to move, lift, and play around with equipment… but I can’t find a single space that actually feels good to exist in.

    Someone needs to invent a new kind of workout space. A place where people can show up however they are that day, whether it’s full throttle or just dipping their toes in, and still feel welcome.

    Until then, I guess I’ll keep wandering through these gym-shaped paradoxes, wondering why a place built for movement so often makes me feel stuck.

  • Your Closet Doesn’t Need Another Mistake

    Let’s be real: just because it looks stunning on a model or worse, in a weirdly angled Zara photo, doesn’t mean it’s going to look stunning on you. Shocking, I know. But that’s exactly why trying things on isn’t optional, It’s optimal. For your style, your wallet, and for the planet.

    Large? Medium? M/L? Who cares size labels are meaningless at this point. Every designer interprets “medium” differently. That $20 dress that “should” fit you? It was probably made using a 4 x 8 plywood panel as the dress form. Too bad you couldn’t try it on before clicking “Check Out” (and having the anticipation grow and grow each day as you obsessively refreshed its tracking page). If only you had tried the hourglass lie on before purchasing and avoided the tragic online-shopping-return spiral from starting (that is, if returns are free of charge and of tariffs, otherwise who’s actually bothering with the return..?).

    We all know returns are a hassle. What you might not think about though is that they’re also bad for the planet. Shipping, packaging, emissions… and multiply that by thousands of unnecessary returns. Trying things on first? You’re making fewer mistakes, spending less money, and subtly saving the world. It’s called being responsible and fashionable, baby. You’re also simply cutting out the possibility of getting sent certifiable pieces of plastic shit from anonymous e-tail companies that are so impersonable they don’t see the value of a storefront (that “artisan” Etsy page with affordable suede bags? It’s actually just a sketchy drop shipping operation run by two losers in a trench coat).

    Let’s take a step back and reminisce about the past for a second. Remember community? Remember third spaces?? Remember socializing??? Aww nostalgia am I right? But what if I told you that you alone could bring these societal relics back with this one little trick: rekindle the old flame of shopping. in. person. If the fit doesn’t fit your body or your style, you can just leave it on the hanger. Mmm, doesn’t it feel good to know those dollars won’t be taken from your credit card in 1-2 business days? Also like, there’s no “minimum spend for free shipping” in-store. So you are back in control of what you are spending and bringing into your home. Life is short, but it’s still long enough to stretch your wallet to its last penny. So, invest in things that actually fit (and avoid that little growing pile in your closet of useless things you meant to return but *oops*, you forgot because you’re just soo busy and tired).

    Yes, fashion is an experiment. You’ll #outfitfail but maybe you’ll even #eat. But if you’re not willing to do the minimum of visiting your local store or mall, you’re just allowing the possibility of settling for an ill-fitting, uncomfortable, and frumpy looks. And settling? That’s never in style.