Hi Everyone,
Yet again, there has been a long hiatus since my last letter. Of course, as always, I’ve had a lot going on. In the spring, I had a handful of odd jobs that kept me hopping around town trying to scrape together some money for this summer. And then, before going back to Hollins again, I traveled for two weeks. I visited Savannah again, went to a wedding in Florida with some of my close Hollins friends (don’t worry -- it was the wedding of another of our close Hollins friends -- we didn’t just pick a state at random and then find a wedding to crash), went to Boston, where I stayed with my friend from preschool and her daughter, and then I attended and presented at a conference. Finally, of course, I got to Hollins, and it was characteristically full of top-notch people, thought-provoking books, and spectacular views of the Blue Ridge Mountains dozing away the muggy Virginian summer. Since I’ve been back in Spokane, apart from a week-long trip to Canada with my parents to see my brother’s play at the Victoria Fringe Festival, I’ve spent my time hanging out with my parents, working on a few freelance art projects, and fervently applying for jobs. (Job hunting is so darn enjoyable that I’ll save my ample thoughts on that activity for another time.) So, as you can see, I’ve been busy.
But busy isn’t a great excuse, really. For one thing, I’ve had periods in my life when I’ve been much busier than I have been in the last six months or so, and I have still been able to maintain a more regular schedule for writing these letters. I could have made time if I’d really wanted. As I think about it, I believe that the real reason I haven’t written is that after hunting and applying for jobs, and writing essays or creative pieces for school, and reading and responding to emails, and formatting artwork for various projects, I am so sick of my computer by the end of the day, that I avoid it. (That being said, this week marks the third anniversary of my computer’s and my partnership, and I am very grateful for it. A while ago, I told my roommate at SCAD, “My computer is definitely the best big investment I’ve made.” Then I thought for a second and added, “Oh. And my education.” It really depends on the day which I think is winning in overall usefulness.)
Another reason “busy” does not cut it as an excuse for not writing these letters is that virtually everyone is busy these days. In our culture, this word is synonymous for being alive. It’s gone from describing a temporary state of being to a longterm condition. It’s risen quickly to the top of the list of acceptable responses to the question, “How are you?”, bypassing distinguished stalwarts such as “Fine, thank you,” or “Well, and yourself?” We’re not really “bad.” But often, we’re not really “good,” either (don’t even get me started on the moral implications these linguistically negligent responses entail . . .) We’re just “busy,” scurrying around trying to get from one thing to the next.
Busyness seems to be part of our genetic makeup. It’s just who I am, right?: I am short, female, and white(ish) in skin color. I have blonde(ish) hair and terrible eyesight (no “ish” about that!). I am 27 years old, and I am busy. And who knows? Maybe in the next few years, we’ll discover that some people are naturally more prone to busyness than others. (I did just read an article about how being a night owl is a genetic trait, so I wouldn’t be surprised.)
However, busyness also seems to be part of our cultural DNA. We’ve all heard sweeping generalizations about other cultures being slower-paced and less work-oriented than ours. And from the travel I have done, I’d say this is (generally) true. My favorite line from the French film Amélie comes when the title character gives a beggar a few coins, and he says, “Sorry, Madam. I don’t work on Sundays.” The French not only know how to take a break -- they have perfected it. Had they been around during Creation Week, I suspect they would have protested for a two-day Sabbath. Meanwhile, here in the US, or so the stereotype goes, we go, go, go, more concerned with what we do than who we are.
Sweeping is a mildly infuriating activity for a perfectionist like myself because it is impossible to ever collect all the dirt; the bristles in a broom always leave some of it out. The same is true with sweeping generalizations. Even if they describe the majority of people in a certain scenario most of the time, there are always exceptions. Obviously, there are people in France who are busy, just as there are people in the States who aren’t. But I do think that there are societies where it’s especially difficult to keep one’s schedule free of clutter. Either the expectation or the temptation to add activity to our lives is always lingering in the wings. It’s like cell phone possession: it’s not unheard of to not have a cell phone (until January of this year, I was the only one in my family who did), but to not have one is rare enough that a.) it takes a strong will to resist the cultural norm, and therefore, b.) you stand out if you don’t have one. I have, on occasion, met non-busy people in the States, and I find them intriguing and comforting and profoundly enviable. I heard once that “busy” could be an acronym for “Being Under Satan’s Yolk.” Yikes! I don’t think I’d go quite that far (after all, it could also be an acronym for “Beatific Undertaker Stalks Yeti,” though that does lose some of the moralistic undertones). But I have definitely felt yolked to my busyness at times, and I am sure that I’ll be struggling with it for the rest of my life.
Labor Day is a rather ironic holiday; we take a day off work to celebrate workers and industry. It reminds me a bit of when I was in South Africa, and for one day, many people refused to go to work to protest rising food costs, and chose to spend their extra time standing in long lines at the grocery stores buying said expensive food. I’ve never paid much attention to Labor Day. Usually I am much more occupied with a new school year starting up, or with the fact that fresh apple cider will soon be available at Greenbluff. But this year, as I have work and busyness on my mind, I’m considering it a bit more. Perhaps in this holiday, we have it right, or at least right-er than normal. One of the quotes I included on my high school yearbook page was an African proverb (sorry -- I don’t know which country it comes from): “Work is good, provided you do not forget to live.” In theory, on Labor Day, we recognize the importance of work, but we also remember to live.
Have a great week, full of work and full of living!
Sarah/Mouse
ps: Despite all these ramblings about busyness, I vow to be more industrious in writing these letters from now on. I’ll check in next week.
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