I Am Busier Than You

I work three jobs. I volunteer at the soup kitchen, the homeless shelter and the doggie daycare. I go to yoga and Pilates and a fusion class that combines tai chi with French cooking. My calendar is so full that if you want to have coffee with me you’ll have to do it in mid-2015. I’ve trained my eyes to lubricate and cleanse themselves so I can Tweet during the time I used to waste on blinking. Despite being late for at least four appointments I’m going to drop everything and condescendingly talk about how much busier I am than you.

You say you only sleep five hours a night? I only sleep two. Most of the plasma in my blood has been replaced by caffeine. I haven’t had a proper sleep in seven years. I consider this a point of pride and not a cause for concern.

I’m the president of several clubs that I don’t actually have time to attend. I’m learning Spanish so I can travel to South America and have an authentic experience. When you mention that you had a nice time at a Mexican resort I’ll interrupt you with an anecdote about my time living with a Chilean shepherd. I’ll explain how I used the skills he taught me to make the alpaca wool sweater I’m wearing. Then I’ll politely ask you how much weight you gained from eating all that resort food.

I’m going to complain that I never have time to do anything fun, and then I’m going to complain about having to spend all weekend preparing for my scrapbooking club’s fundraiser. I will not recognise the irony. We’ll raise less than 100 dollars.

I’ll tell you about the three cocktail parties I’ve been invited to tonight, and how it’s such a pain to have to decide which one to attend. I will then insist that I don’t have much of a social life because I’m too busy to socialise.

I’m planning to sign up for a night class on a subject I’ll never have a practical application for. I will stress out about my tests and assignments even though it’s an introductory level course that’s impossible to fail as long as you show up. I will insist on having my textbook with me whenever we hang out so I can study when you go to the bathroom or talk about something I find boring. While I’m studying I’ll make Facebook posts about how difficult and time-consuming being an academic is.

I’ll claim I’m not addicted to my smart phone but will panic when it’s out of sight for more than 10 seconds. I’ll spend half of our time together ignoring you because I have hundreds of emails to respond to. I’ve written more text messages today than you have in six months. I’ll text you to ask why I always seem to find myself short on time.

I’m dictating this message to my phone while I run on the treadmill, watch E! and listen to an audiobook about the latest fad diet. I get all my food from a vegan co-op that specialises in fair-trade produce, despite not knowing what fair-trade means. I’m going to cook recipes from the new diet books I bought. When I don’t see significant change within two weeks I’ll switch to a different fad and buy a new set of books. I will complain about how I never have enough money.

I will follow current events enough to be able to start conversations, but not enough to be able to contribute in any meaningful way. I will use sentences like, “I heard on the radio when I was going to an art appreciation seminar that something’s happening in Syria. It sounded bad.” I will believe that this constitutes knowledge.

I’ll attempt to win every conversation on the subject of time by dismissing the schedules of anyone less busy than me as “basically wide-open.” I’ll complain about how stressed I am, then act offended when you suggest I drop one of my commitments. I will consider myself to be a sacrificial martyr who keeps society running so that other, lazier people can enjoy their free time. I will generally be insufferable. But I’ll be a better person than you. Because I’m busier than you.