On Laziness

I'm lazy. I'm lazy and proud of it. I think more people should be lazy.

But I'm a Midwesterner. We aren't bred to be lazy. Lazy is bad. Lazy means you aren't working hard, and not working hard is bad. So while I am lazy and proud, it makes me feel guilty. This means I tend run around and do a bunch of shit in a short amount of time because then I won't feel guilty for sitting on my ass for the rest of the day.

I am fiercley protective of my time. And by "my time" I mean the time I get all to myself. If I don't protect it, I will work 60 hours a week and then end up burned out and bitter. I know because I've done it. Thing is, when I tell some people about this, I feel like I need to defend myself. It, like my choice to not have kids or not spending every waking second looking for a mate, makes some people suspicious.

Sometimes this bothers me. And I feel like there is something wrong with me because I don't want the things I'm supposed to. Not everyone has the luxury to be lazy--I get that. And I know people with kids are busy. I look at my life and have no clue how I could ever hold down a full time job and raise children at the same time--and retain one tiny bit of sanity. That's not the kind of "busy" I'm talking about. I'm talking about the busy we create for ourselves.

I feel that we as a society have decided that the less time we have to spend with our families, with our own thoughts, is bad. You know, "lazy." But it's time we learned to embrace our laziness. We need to remind ourselves that just decompressing for a day, an hour, a half hour can help us clear our heads, to refocus. Hell, one of the reasons I go to the gym five times a week is because it allows me to get out my frustration from work and daydream--both at the same time. It's what helps me not take my work home with me.

Anyway, this opinion piece, The 'Busy' Trap in the NY Times really struck me for many different reasons. Like how the people who spend so much time talking about how busy they are really aren't. These are the ones who feel the need to talk about how busy they are in order to feel as though they are accomplishing something. I see it in my students. Their days are scheduled to the very last second. I was busy in college, but I always made time to hang with friends, because I saw that as part of my education as my classes. And I still believe that.

As for how I feel, this pretty much sums it up: "I am not busy. I am the laziest ambitious person I know." That's me. This afternoon, I am half-watching the season five premier of Mad Men. I'm rereading The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks both because it is a great book and because I might use it in a class this fall. I'm typing this blog post. In the back of my mind I am sorting through all the other things I need to do: I have an article I need to finish writing; I need to write two reports for work; I have a binder full of articles to read. Part of me feels guilty for not doing these things. But the things I am doing this afternoon? I'm doing them because I want to.

The other things I need to get done? I'll do them. And I will do then at my own pace. That means I'll do them when I can give them my full attention. As for being ambitious, I am. But like everything else, I'm doing it at my own pace. (Confession: I decided last week that I wanted to be Dr. Yankee Librarian so the investigation for the appropriate doctoral program is under way.)

I don't really know when being lazy or relaxing or just being idle or reading for pleasure became bad. But I am unwilling to buy into this busy-equals-important bullshit.

I think the entire NY Times piece is good, but this is one of my favorite parts:

Idleness is not just a vacation, an indulgence or a vice; it is as indispensable to the brain as vitamin D is to the body, and deprived of it we suffer a mental affliction as disfiguring as rickets. The space and quiet that idleness provides is a necessary condition for standing back from life and seeing it whole, for making unexpected connections and waiting for the wild summer lightning strikes of inspiration — it is, paradoxically, necessary to getting any work done.

In order to be productive, to be whole, we need to give ourselves time to be lazy.

So, yeah, I woke up this morning, went to the gym, swung by the co-op, and then made pancakes. But I'm going to spend the rest of the day reading, watching TV, and possibly napping. Because I can.