I think I misunderstood the lesson. When I was little I was told I could be anything I wanted to be. It's a noble thought, an honorable thought, but one I misconstrued a little. One I think many of us misconstrue. This realization came to me as I was rereading "In Praise of Slowness" by Carl Honore. In chapter one, titled "Do Everything Faster", Honore writes:
"As well as glittering careers, we want to take art courses, work out at the gym, read the newspaper and every book on the bestseller list, eat out with friends, go clubbing, play sports, watch hours of television, listen to music, spend time with family, buy all the newest fashions and gadgets, go to the cinema, enjoy intimacy and great sex with our partners, holiday in far-flung locations and maybe even do some meaningful volunteer work. The result is a gnawing disconnect between what we want from life and what we can realistically have, which feeds the sense that there is never enough time."
So, while I appreciate my early childhood lesson, I wish someone would have clarified that I didn't have to be ALL of these things. The paragraph above encompasses me so completely that I was shocked by its accuracy when I read it. Well, maybe taking writing workshops instead of art course would have been a better fit, but that's simply splitting hairs.
Why can't I better understand my capabilities. I just clicked over to my Google Calendar where I am tracking my appointments, my class schedule, social events and other commitment. Five days a week I am booked from 7:30 in the morning until midnight. Granted there is a 3 hour block of "Family Time" in there, but come ON! I'm scheduling family time?! I showed the calendar to the students who are taking my class and forced to read this book. They practically soiled themselves. They couldn't believe it. I know I'm not the norm, but I'm A norm. There are many adjunct professors who are working at multiple institutions while balancing family and their own work in their content area.
How do I get off the treadmill? I don't know. I start making decisions. I start deciding what is really important. In the chapter on "Work" Honore writes:
"A 2002 study carried out at Kyushu University in Fukuoka, Japan, found that men who work sixty hours a week are twice as likely to have a heart attack as men who put in forty hours. That risk is trebled for those who sleep less than five hours a night at least twice a week."
Crap! I don't like my odds when I read that. If this pace, these life choices, have that kind of detrimental effect on my health, choices must be made. So, I'm left to ponder where I make the cuts. I won't stop writing. I have to work. I MUST be present and available to my family, so what's left?
Well, I won't be hitting the clubs any time soon (which is okay because Shea and Tracy dance with me at home).
I might not be able to squeeze a run in as often as I like.
My social life will be slower (but that might be okay because I'm kind of becoming a grumpy old man anyway.)
I know I won't read everything on the bestseller list.
I'm forced to cut back on television, cinema, theater, and music.
The volunteer work is out the window for now.
I refuse to give up intimacy and great sex (sorry, mom and dad. I know you read this blog).
I'll prioritize. It's a compromise. Part of compromise is "promise". Do I mean that as a promise to myself? Or, do I mean that tomorrow has "promise" because I've now solidified some of my priorities in writing? Whose to say? The only way to find out is to take action and see what tomorrow brings.
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