Monday, November 28, 2005

The thing is

Monday, November 07, 2005


If you asked one of my friends how he's doing, the standard answer is "stressed out!" We pride ourselves on being busy. We point to our filled-up palmpilot schedules as if they were trophies. We are constantly rushing between meetings, lunch talks, fund-raisers, shaddowing, research, and complaining about how busy we are because of things we committed ourselves to on our own volition.

Being busy has become an armor. We feel inadequate when our friends stayed up until 2am when we were in bed by 12. We fear that if we weren't in a constant state of action, we are lesser human beings and less deserving for respect. It is as if we were loved for what we do, not who we are.

The city imposes a sense of purpose and direction in us. We forgot how to take a walk that leads us nowhere, or write a poem that no one will read, or eat a meal alone simply because we enjoy every morsel we're tasting.