I’m in the middle of a massive career change. After 20
years in the business, I’m getting out.
For the past month I have been embracing my new calling:
enlightened loafer.
In elementary school, first it was share, share, share. After
that, I had to learn and then relearn long division. Then middle
school hit, and I was introduced to the miseries of the teenage
popularity game. Finally, hard work in high school opened the door
to UCLA.
Four years, 1,200 hours of classes, at least 20 all-nighters and
70 midterms later, I am now a college graduate with, as my diploma
states, “all the rights and privileges thereto
pertaining.”
Everyone has been asking, “How does it feel?” And
though I want to feel sorry for myself now that I’m in the
real world and the carefree days of my student years are behind me,
I feel excellent. My mind is more peaceful than ever before.
The reason? Leisure time.
The means? I haven’t been working.
But I have a job; I’ll be moving to Japan next week to
teach at a high school for a year. With the security of employment,
I decided to do what I had not done since childhood: nothing. The
Italians have a popular saying: “La dolce de far
niente,” or, “The sweetness of doing
nothing.”
But this does not mean sloth or laziness. It has been a welcome
departure from the ethos of busyness. Many UCLA students have been
infected by the constant need to do, do, do; I was one of them.
Maybe it’s a result of the hard work required to enter
UCLA or it has something to do with living in Los Angeles. Either
way, this has become so second-nature for us that we put pressure
on ourselves to be more busy than should be allowed.
My first Monday as an unemployed college graduate, I set out to
accomplish a number of errands: dropping off a camera and lenses,
picking up an iPod, and having a photo printed for someone, all in
far-flung corners of Los Angeles. Bad traffic, bad planning and bad
luck conspired against me. One hectic day later, I had managed to
accomplish only one thing.
I tried to multi-task my way through things that should have
taken days because I was still operating with an ethos of busyness
that shuns even well-deserved inactivity. Why couldn’t I just
reward myself with one day off?
I resolved to enjoy my summer after that day. I cherish my
morning coffee and Los Angeles Times sessions. I greet my working
friends at night and cook dinner with them. I read books written in
the first person and talk politics with my grandmother.
I can feel my batteries recharging, and each day I feel
increasingly ready for Round Two: teaching.
I do not write this as an advocate of laziness. Do not shy away
from hard work or daunting challenges, but don’t forget to
uncork the champagne once the great task is done. You’ve got
to look after your own sanity if you want to continue making an
impact.
The suffering and stress I endured at UCLA have borne fruit. I
have a head full of knowledge and a free plane ticket to Japan.
Four years of waking up at 11 a.m. like during this July
wouldn’t have gotten me here. But now that I have time to put
my feet up, I’m taking it.
I urge everyone, no matter how busy you may be, to do the
same.
You’ve probably earned it.
If you’re too important to read Taylor’s column,
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