Ain't Nobody Got Time for That

A friend and I auditioned for the same student dance group on Sunday. We went to dinner afterwards and started talking about the college balancing act: what classes to take, how many to take, which groups to perform with, how many pieces to dance in, if we should add any other activities to the read/write/dance/sleep cycle we’d had since high school. My friend had withdrawn from sorority recruitment and was considering dropping a class. 
 
“I just want time,” she said.
 
I agreed. I want time more than just about anything else. My worst days tend to originate from overload: my lack of time to do the things that will make me a fulfilled and stable person.
 
I want time to submerge myself in my classes. There’s no way that I can read everything I’m supposed to, but I know that I’ll have a more meaningful education (and thusly a more meaningful life) the more I read. The discussion section I dread will become easier the more I sit myself in a chair and prepare for it. My essays will be stellar if I think through my ideas with care.
 
I want time to correspond. My resolve this year is to be better about communicating with the people I want in my life. The separation of first semester was rough, and I felt distant from the friends I had made in high school. But over winter break, I remembered that my friendships were strong, and I decided to keep them firmly in sight. That means I need to type emails, handwrite letters and cards, arrange Skype dates, respond to texts.
 
I want time to explore and to be spontaneous. I live in an amazing city—I told my mother yesterday that New York is just “more.” Cultural institutions abound, and many are incredibly accessible to me. If only I could get my act together and actually go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art or see Paul Taylor Dance Company. If I spot a poster for a cool lecture or performance on campus, I want to be able to drop everything and go.
 
I want time to deal.  Some days I find myself facing the ceiling and saying, “I can’t deal with this right now.” I sift through the contents of my desk and half of it falls on the floor, but I know other tasks take precedence over cleaning and organizing. I see an email that requires my immediate attention, which is already split between two other tasks and tomorrow’s to-do list. Frustration and procrastination result.
 
I want time to be a woman of leisure. I want to read excellent non-academic books and watch awesome television shows and write recreationally. I want to decorate my room and wear interesting outfits. I want to listen to new songs and fall in love with new artists. I want to read the news so I have a clue about what’s happening outside the bubble of my university.
 
Often I feel like I am supposed to do everything and to be able to do everything. I’m not sure why this is, and I don’t think now is the time to pseudo-psychoanalyze myself. But it is certainly pertinent to say that I cannot do everything I want to do and that I will hurt myself if I try.
 
This is a pretty somber post... I think I meant for it to be funnier? That didn’t happen! Next time I’ll write about awkward elevator experiences or attractive foreign celebrities or something.
 
--Bridget