Busy

I know, I know, it's the familiar, untelling, knee-jerk answer that you hear left and right, but at this point, this is the only thing i can come up with, until some of the chaos of the first week of classes, unnecessarily complicated registration process and just getting used to my new surroundings and schedule finally settles down. For now, here's an excerpt from my bible of everydayness by Amy Krouse Rosenthal on this very brief and limited one word answer - busy.

How you been? Busy. How’s work? Busy. How was your week? Good. Busy. You name the question, “Busy” is the answer. Yes, yes, I know we are all terribly busy doing terribly important things. But I think more often than not, “Busy” is simply the most acceptable knee-jerk response. Certainly there are more interesting, more original, and more accurate ways to answer the question how are you? How about: I’m hungry for a waffle; I’m envious of my best friend; I’m annoyed by everything that’s broken in my house; I’m itchy. Yet busy stands as the easiest way of summarizing all that you do and all that you are. I am busy is the short way of saying —suggesting—my time is filled, my phone does not stop ringing, and you (therefore) should think well of me. Have people always been this busy? Did cavemen think they were busy, too? This week is crazy—I’ve got about ten caves to draw on. Can I meet you by the fire next week? I have a hunch that there is a direct correlation between the advent of coffee chains and the increase in busy-ness. Look at us. We’re all pros now at hailing a cab/pushing a grocery cart/operating a forklift with a to-go cup in hand. We’re skittering about like hyperactive gerbils, high not just on caffeine but on caffeine’s luscious by-product, productivity. Ah, the joy of doing, accomplishing, crossing off. As kids, our stock answer to most every question was nothing. What did you do at school today? Nothing. What’s new? Nothing. Then, somewhere on the way to adulthood, we each took a 180-degree turn. We cashed in our nothing for busy. I’m starting to think that, like youth, the word nothing is wasted on the young. Maybe we should try reintroducing it into our grown-up vernacular. Nothing. I say it a few times and I can feel myself becoming more quiet, decaffeinated. Nothing. Now I’m picturing emptiness, a white blanket, a couple ducks gliding on a still pond. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. How did we get so far from it? See also: Coffee, Stopping for; Crossing Guard; Nothing