This weekend was spent in North Carolina visiting family. It was a planned trip that seemed like a good idea in the planning stages. While driving to Virginia Sunday afternoon, I had plenty of time to reconsider that assessment.
The family just does not understand what I mean when I say, “I am busy.” They have nothing to compare it to. I know their lives. I understand their definition of “busy,” and it pales in comparison. I could enlighten them. I could go into great detail about the hours I spend on a nightly basis preparing for one class; but, what’s the point? They are busy. I am busy. We all have busy lives. And I have never been one to glory in my status. For instance, if I had pneumonia, I would say, “I am sick.” For those who don’t know that I am in law school, I say, “I go to college.” I do not gain any self-worth or satisfaction by convincing all family and friends that my schedule is much more atrocious than theirs—to the tenth degree—even though it is. So, instead of reciting the painful details of the five hours per night spent preparing for the next day’s classes, I simply say, “I am busy.”
Perhaps the blame is mine. Perhaps the family cannot ascertain the stress of my schedule because I speak of it in such generic terms—and even plan weekend trips to visit. So the primary lesson learned from this weekend’s trip is that I must be a better communicator.
Chester (my cat) is curled up in my open suitcase. The half unpacked suitcase seems to be a metaphor for my life. I am half way through this curriculum; too late to quit, too soon to finish. So much is in limbo. Am I packing? Or unpacking? If I had the time, could I find the energy to finish doing either? This evening, that is doubtful. Instead, there’s a pot of coffee brewing. It will be my partner in the long night ahead. I will read, outline, study; and, when my mind wonders, I will reminisce about the weekend in North Carolina, calculate its cost, remember its lesson, and hope I can recover....or find someplace else for that suitcase to take me.
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