My excuse for not having written here in over a month is that I was busy – busy in the typical having-many-responsibilities-to-fulfill sense, as opposed to the type of busy I would try to embody in order to appear more important than you. But this is not the case. What do you think I am, some kind of monster?
Busyness can translate into superiority. If you’re that busy, you must be some regal, untouchable being, as if any sort of disturbance will mess with your chakra and your holier-than-Thou stature. Another grand, sweeping statement for you: having actual free time to watch a season of Orange is the New Black, uninterrupted, means you are some type of good-for-nothing who needs to take on more projects at work. Right?
In truth, being so overwhelmingly busy that you don’t have the time to Snapchat me a photo of your new cat at least once a day can mean two things: you either have a) no interest in expanding your social circle to horizons broader than that which contain your cat (achoo!) or you have dismal time management skills, which is a setback in itself and probably my next blog post, but who knows. In fairness, I don’t have time to Snapchat you photos of my hypothetical cat either as I am asphyxiated by deadline-induced stress. True story.
Is busyness synonymous with importance? Let’s have a look. As a general rule, the corporate hierarchy suggests that interns are glamourized slaves (yup, I went there). Paid or not paid, they are often bombarded with tasks that their superiors don’t have time to do nor want to do (let’s be real here, not all internships live up to their “for educational purposes only” mandate. This is a reality. But as a wise man once said, “Don’t hate the playa, hate the game”).
It’s not as though anyone has bestowed upon these interns the opportunity to make revolutionary decisions – instead they toil away and do what they are told and make a suggestion or two. While having someone take care of menial tasks is essential to the health of any organization, you’ll rarely see an associate bow down to an intern, unless of course their basic HTML skillz are 2 die 4. The higher-ups have generally already paid their dues and thus have a little more legroom. While interns are often some of the best-dressed in the office (it’s like going on a first date, but every day for 4 months!!!!) there’s something inherently blue collar and unsung-heroic about how busy they are.
My friends have been expressing resentment towards me as of late for being too busy to step away from my work. I admire them all, firstly, for being able to uphold sophisticated positions and secondly, for having the time to hit up happy hour on the regular with little to no fear of their work quality being compromised (and also for having really nice hair and nail beds, but that’s a given). I admire them for being able to turn off work mode. I admire them for being able to relax and give busyness the manicured middle finger.
How do you decompartmentalize? How do you remove yourself from something in which you’re so completely engrossed? I was following a major league baseball player on Twitter a few months ago, Jose Canseco, who said in order to attain balance, your life should fall into the pattern of 8 hours of sleep, 8 hours of work and 8 hours of play. Talk about normcore and a sentiment to which I will never relate. Unfollow.
What if being busy is truly and organically a result of your work being synonymous with your play? Is it destructive to cut off momentum when your brain is transfixed by all the spelling errors you get to edit? Or are there proven therapeutic benefits to prematurely cutting your work time short in favour of this contrived idea of play? That last bit veered on the introvert vs. extrovert battle we all have going on internally, but I’ll leave that for you to decide.
Many people tell themselves that this year will finally be the year they remove parasitic people from their circles, otherwise those known as toxic, unstimulating or #basic (I’ve been reading awful memes in Earlybird filter on Instagram, so naturally I am on board with the common resolution). My friends embody none of these colloquialisms, but of course, sometimes it’s important to do you. If you care about someone to the moon and back yet they find a way to hinder your ~*~CrEaTiVe PrOcEsS~*~, you are not heartless nor are you psychotic for opting out of certain interactions. You are a human and you like creating things and creating solidifies your existence. We good now?
Being “busy” is an excuse you will tell that guy on Tinder who can’t discern “your” from “you’re”. It doesn’t mean you’re better than him (cognitively, maybe) but that he just doesn’t fit into your self-defined equation of happiness in that moment. Being happy is letting yourself melt into your endeavour until the sun rises. If that’s in line with your definition as well, let’s live busy ever after. Because what’s worse than having nothing to do besides maybe death or running out of ink?
After all this banter on how busy I am, you’re probably wondering how I made the time to write this blog, or maybe you are also busy and that thought did not once cross your mind. The truth is that you just have to suck it up. We’ve all been allotted the same 24 hours, and I have faith that Darwin magically whittled our workloads down to a manageable scale so that we can Snapchat each other our hypothetical cats and call it a day.