I’m Not Weary Of Life Yet

(hopefully that ‘yet’ isn’t actually necessary)

I was talking to a friend a few years older than me the other week, and they sighed ‘at last it’s Friday!’, or words to that effect. I brushed this off without thinking about it at first but, now that it’s Friday once more, am thinking about it again, and have realised that your early twenties are probably way too early to be wishing for the end of a week. Now, my friend might have just been making small talk, but if they’re genuinely happy that it’s a particular day of the week, one probably with few or a decreasing number of classes, their life might not be going as well as it could be – they’re approaching the prime of their life, with all the freedom of an adult but all the lack of responsibility of a child, and relaxation and enjoyment comes from a break from their degree and the work they choose to do, rather than from engaging with this work itself, or even finding a hobby to engage with?

When I hear older people – people of my parents’ generation, usually – find comfort in the end of the week and the end of work, it bothers me less; often such people are parents themselves, and spend their time looking after children instead of developing their own interests and hobbies, or are simply feeling the strain of living through several decades on this crappy rock we’re doomed to call home. But if you’re weary of life, and seeking solace in the arbitrary progression of a calendar, at a relatively young age, things might need improving.

I’m hardly a perfect person, but I inevitably compared this ‘yay Friday’ mindset to my own relationship with time, namely that I have no idea what day it is, and often what time it is, at any given point. I know that not absolutely everything I do is fun and worthwhile – the three lectures I have on Monday are a bit of a slog to get through – but I approach the different things I have to do on each day as a different way to find something fun to do, rather than dismiss whole days as ‘good’ or ‘bad’, and sit impatiently waiting for the designated ‘good’ days of Friday, Saturday and Sunday to roll into my life. This is made easy by the fact that my degree is great fun, so the three days where I have classes are rendered at least tolerable; and the great people I know, which can make even shitty experiences better; and the bajillion societies and clubs I’m in that have turned my life into a relentless stream of cool activities, where there’s no real time to sit and long for what might happen in the future, or look back on embarrassing or sad things to have happened in the past.

But I don’t know; I’m nowhere near experienced or intelligent enough to make meaningful comments on life and growing up or whatever – so I try not to think about my life, I just do things in it.


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