Not Working Is Great!

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Clarissa

May 22, 2012

“The real holidays have started for me,” I informed N. yesterday. “I have 14 weeks of not having to work ahead of me this summer. Oh, I love not having to work! Take today, for example. I wrote 1,5 pages of my manuscript and did major revisions on 4 more pages. I also translated 10 pages instead of the 5 I’d planned. Then, I moderated the comments students had left on the course blog. I also looked up some secondary sources for my research. Not working is the best!”

N. gave me a very puzzled look. I think that, from now on, I should specify that “not working” for me means not having to socialize. Everything else is not work.

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5 responses to “Not Working Is Great!”

David Gendron

May 22, 2012

“I should specify that “not working” for me means not having to socialize”

Exactly! 🙂

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Fie Upon This Quiet Life

May 22, 2012

haha. So far this summer, I have adapted a Shakespeare play, sent off an abstract for a conference, written a syllabus for fall, met with two of my team teachers, read two novels for research, read six or seven research articles, and started an annotated bibliography. I’m not working, but I’m getting so much done!

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Benoni

May 22, 2012

I hate socializing AND real work. I guess I’m just a loser in general, then. 😛

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1. bloggerclarissa
  
  May 22, 2012
  
  No, I think you are the smartest of all.
  
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musteryou

May 22, 2012

I don’t like socializing at all because it implies trying to tune myself up emotionally, so that I’m more or less reacting appropriately to any given situation. This takes a huge amount of preparation and energy for me. I thought it was only I who had this problem, until my father had his stroke last year and I found that all of my siblings, with the exception, perhaps of my sister, have a tendency towards emotional insensitivity. In fact, even though my sister did and said a lot of very appropriate things, whilst we wiled away our hours at the hospital, she also made some fairly extreme statements from her imaginings as to how my father simply wouldn’t be able to cope because his face would droop, blah, blah. One of my brothers, who had come back from where he works in Indonesia had partaken of a glass of wine and then began trying to talk in Indonesian to one of the Asian nurses, who turned out not to be from Indonesia — naturally. This awkwardness is more acceptable in a male, perhaps, but I am extremely prone to it.

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