When I worked for a company, my supervisor told me one day that he had sat up till 5 a.m. the night before. He was reading a historical novel until that time. He had been committed to so much work around that time that he had had to burn the midnight oil for a few nights on end, and this overworking had kept him from going to bed, though he was exhausted. At first, I couldn't understand him. What could a man do otherwise than go to bed when he is so tired? He continued to tell me that he was a bit confused about why the hell he didn't feel like going to bed. He interpreted the situation as follows. Since he was occupied with so much work for so long a time, he instinctively desired to immerse himself in something else, thus distancing himself from work, even if the immersion would cause him more fatigue.
It was last night that I remembered this story of his. I didn't feel like going to bed that night, though I was dead tired from writing a paper in English for the past ten days. It was an 8500-word paper. My mind and body needed a rest more than anything else. But I knew in my bones that I wouldn't get myself to sleep easily. Taking a rest meant to me applying myself to other mental activities. I read some of The Apology of Socrates by Plato, thought about rebuilding my wardrobe and did some mindfulness.
The supervisor was called Samurai because he was so committed to the job that he never turned his face from what he had to do and thus achieved much. As I remembered his story, it felt as if I were achieving something. However, judging from the way a professor commented on my paper today, it seems that I am anything but a samurai.