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November 18, 2007
Nothing Much to Report
Yesterday was supposed to be my grading day. While Dave was in tech--for 12 hours--I was going to go to my office and get all of my grading done. That way, I could play for the rest of break. Only that's not what happened.
Instead of grading, or working on my novel, I sat on the couch and surfed the net. I did get up once to run to Starbucks for coffee and a donut, once to shower and once to make myself some dinner. Otherwise, though, I did nothing at all useful. I read movie reviews. I played computer games. I read about bigfoot and followed up on lots and lots of celebrity gossip. My brain took a complete vacation from thinking. And though I felt guilty about it, I didn't do anything to change it. I just lay on the couch (under a variety of cats who were more than happy to use me as furniture) and let time pass.
As I said, I felt guilty about it. Really guilty. I have things to do. Lots and lots of things to do, as it turns out, and I didn't want to fritter my vacation away reading blogs and studying ufology. And then I thought, I didn't get to do this when I was sick two weeks ago. I had grading to do and art to make and classes to plan and all manner of work. So I decided to give myself the day I didn't give myself when I was sick.
Do you know what the result of that was?
Today, I slept in and then Dave and I went out for an anniversary brunch where we had mediocre prime rib, middling mimosas, nasty cantaloupe and decent omelettes. When we got home around ten, I changed the cat litter, sorted the laundry, changed the sheets, folded a load of laundry, took out the recycling, unloaded the dishwasher, made a cup of tea and graded papers. All before noon. I'm taking a little break now to blog and to run to the store and get a new pair of boots. I feel ready and alert and capable and that's a nice change from the way I had been feeling for much of, well, the past several months. No I haven't got all of the grading done yet, the pile left to work on is significantly larger than the pile of already graded stuff. But, I fully expect to get it all tackled today except for the work that's still in my office. Which I will get tomorrow during errand running time. That's just a few assignments, though, so no worries.
I don't think I would have been nearly as full of get-up-and-go as I am today if I hadn't taken that time to just be a couch potato yesterday. I'm not sure why that helped, but it obviously did. So the question I have been pondering for the past two days (well, day and a half) is this: Why do I feel it's somehow wrong to not be "doing anything"?
This issue is something I've been struggling with for a while. I can take a walk in the snow and take pictures and that's okay, because it's art and also exercise. I can clean the house or do some laundry and that's acceptable behavior. I can garden or grade or plan lessons, and those are all good activities to choose as well. I can even read a book solely for pleasure and that's fine too, because I'm working my imagination. But if I poke around for hours online or play video games, it's a waste of my potential and I am a bad, bad person. Even if I've been putting in 10-12 hour days for the past week, there are apparently acceptable leisure time activities and non-acceptable time wastings, and internet as entertainment falls into the latter category. Despite the boost it gave me, I still feel like I squandered yesterday. I could have done something with it, and instead I opted to let the time go by and not accomplish anything. (Though I am getting pretty good at Sudoku.)
Where does it come from, this hierarchy of pasttimes? And why am I not allowed to partake in the lower class of escapist behaviors? Why do I consider myself to be a bad and useless person for taking a Saturday to just be a lump when I was running around like a crazy person for the two weeks before that Saturday? That sort of thing makes me stressed and insane and sends my shoulders up to my ears, and yet, somehow, I feel like it's what I should be doing. I should be that busy. Because that's what good people are. Good and useful people work all the time with no time off, apparently. At least according to the Sallyacious dictionary.
If I maintain the kind of schedule I've been running under, I have no time for myself. No time to exercise, no time to do art, no time to sit and think about things or enjoy the world around me. No time to get my hair colored and cut. No time for a facial to help keep me looking young. No time to write or ponder or do important personal work. No time for a massage to help ease the stresses and tensions I'm feeling. No. Time. None. Except for the time I spend asleep. And that's not cool. No time to just exist, to be in the moment, because every moment is spent not only doing something, but also preparing for and prioritizing the things to be doing in the next moment. It's insane behavior, and yet I somehow feel compelled to live this kind of life because that is, per some weird set of rules in my head, "what you do."
And yet, I don't expect this kind of thing from other people. My TA had to practically beg me to give her some papers to grade because I didn't want to overload her. I have two classes where the grades are almost entirely attendance and participation based because 1) I don't want to do the grading and 2) I know how busy those students are and don't want to overwhelm them with work. So why can't I slow down? Why can't I take the time for me?
I've stopped writing in the mornings so I can sleep just a little bit later. I haven't had my yearly physical yet because I haven't had time to call for an appointment. I wore my final pair of contact lenses for two weeks before I found the time to order more. It's been three weeks since Clean House closed, and I will finally be getting my hair colored tomorrow. The last time I had it done was the Friday before classes started. August 17. (I had to stop for the show.) My roots and the grey are showing and I look old and tired and I should have made an appointment for the Monday after we closed, but I didn't have--or didnt' take--the time to make that phone call. I'm so busy taking care of everybody else that I haven't been taking care of me. And I know that's wrong, but that's the way it's been.
Why am I always the least important person in my life? Why do I always, almost without questioning, put everybody else's needs first? This is, obviously, the issue I get to struggle with this lifetime because I keep bumping up against it in different situations. I resolve it in relationships and come back to it as an actor. I get that dealt with and now I'm addressing the same thing as a teacher. I am done working on this issue. I just want to figure out how to balance things so I can have time for me again.
If the operator is listening, I would very much like to stop the ride and get off now.
Posted by sally at November 18, 2007 12:01 PM
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