I’ve recently made a couple trips to Philly for friends’ weddings. We have been blessed with glorious weather, amazing friendships, meals, conversations, etc. Out of my conversations, one question to which I have yet to find an adequate answer is “How’s life?”
For the past year whenever I was asked about life, the answer started with “Work is….” This isn’t a surprise. When college was the priority, the answer started with “School is…” For the post-collegiate crowd one or a few years out of the Quad, life is work hard, play hard. Sounds similar? Why not. We are still living with the same mentality, just a room upgrade and more spending money. I have desperately been holding onto a thinning thread of life outside of work. Tried. Tried. Tried. Nothing makes sense. How is it that I can succeed at work and yet fail at life? This isn’t the worst part.
Oh what I’m about to describe is horror. Before this weekend, I usually talked about work in a few sentences and limited myself to that. I ask the “How’s life” question back with more specifics like Philly, family, or recent events in my conversationalist’s life. At the wedding yesterday, I ran into a friend whom I haven’t seen for more than a year. I had avoided the life question and wanted to ask how his girlfriend was. I bit my lips…wasn’t sure if they were still together. I paused and let my friend take control. He asked where I am now. I gave a geography. Then out of nowhere the horror rose in my throat – I inadvertently went straight into an annoying, two-sentence summary about my being very busy with work (understatement). I stopped at the third sentence, saved by the onslaught of everyone rushing from wedding to reception. I avoided the friend’s empty gaze and went my way. Granted he caught me after three conversations on work with other mutual friends. Still…no excuse.
For the rest of the night, answers to friends’ curiosity and caring words were filled with nonwork related stories. I don’t ever want to repeat what I did to this friend. (Oh and he and his girlfriend are back together. Yeah! And what a sight – quite a pair on the dance floor I must say!)
It is one thing to learn that life does not equate to work. It is another thing to practice, to live.
I’m still in the process of figuring out how to piece together this crazy puzzle. In the mean time, if I ever go overboard with talking about work, slap me will you?
I was once having dinner with a group of 3 or 4 friends in NY. Towards the end of the meal, someone remarked “We don’t really have anything to talk about aside from work.” That was followed by a minute-long, awkward, sad silence.
Remember…you can always quit your job.