spontaneity
"We should really try to be more spontaneous." I heard this twice yesterday. Once from a guy with whom planning an after-work glass of wine had gotten boring with its cancellations, excuses, mishaps. Once from my husband who wants to feel more a part of our community. He wants people to feel free to stop by whenever, and he wants to feel comfortable showing up on a friend's doorstep unannounced.
I really like the whole notion of spontaneity ... in theory. It seems more fun and bohemian to just carpe diem, but I'm a planner at heart. Does this make me staid, rigid? Does this make me more organized? Does this really make me less fun? Possibly. The way it was introduced to me, spontaneity has so much more value and realness than planning, which reeks of control and artifice.
I dunno. I've often been frustrated with people who say they can't accept my dinner invitation for a week from now because they can't plan that far out. What? Are you not an adult who's aware that life can be out of control? Isn't it nice to have some experiences fixed in the dirt ahead of you? The recipe cannot be as boring as, "a little bit of both," but what if it is?
I really like the whole notion of spontaneity ... in theory. It seems more fun and bohemian to just carpe diem, but I'm a planner at heart. Does this make me staid, rigid? Does this make me more organized? Does this really make me less fun? Possibly. The way it was introduced to me, spontaneity has so much more value and realness than planning, which reeks of control and artifice.
I dunno. I've often been frustrated with people who say they can't accept my dinner invitation for a week from now because they can't plan that far out. What? Are you not an adult who's aware that life can be out of control? Isn't it nice to have some experiences fixed in the dirt ahead of you? The recipe cannot be as boring as, "a little bit of both," but what if it is?
1 Comments:
A planner myself, I have to say I love spontaneity when it comes to having a drink or dinner or going for a run. Living in New York requires planning 90% of the time, so I guess that's why I welcome a bit of spontaneity. But I'm rarely the one to initiate it. It's 6pm and I have nothing to do tonight (the horror!) Peter's working late. I think about who I could call to hang out with. No one. I'm sure they all have plans. What about Ty, the guy who works for me? Maybe he wants to get a drink? Nah, I bet he already has plans. I won't even ask. Kate? No. You have to make plans with her at least two weeks in advance. I'll just go home and watch Law & Order.
My friend Christina lives outside of the city with her 20 month old daughter and her husband. Before she had Maisie, Christina and I would make plans for dinner at least once a month with two of our other friends from college. We haven't done that for a couple of years. But I've had dinner with her twice in the past month and a half in the city. She emailed us two days prior to her visit both times and miraculously we were all able to make it ... so miraculous that the miracle was the subject of conversation for the first half hour both times.
I've been out of a job for a couple weeks - at my own volition - but it took me about a week and a half to not freak out every morning I woke up. What am I going to do today? I have no plans! My freelancer friend Colin sent me a text message last Tuesday at around noon - 'loeb boat house around 4?' I'm unemployed! Can I really allow myself a drink in the bright, warm sunshine at the boat house in Central Park at 4? No, I can't - thankfully I had an appointment at 4 so it would have to be 5:30 instead. A little more respectful, right? I suddenly felt okay about it. Colin was supposed to be doing work in the park until then. He was standing at the bar ordering a drink when I arrived. "Have you gotten a lot of work done?" I asked. "Actually, I've spent the last three hours writing my 'things I want to do before I die' list." He had a big smile on his face. He taught me something that day. The chances will be rare that I have a full beautiful and sunny May day to myself, without the worry of work or of children. I spent the day feeling guilty that I would be meeting him for a drink later that afternoon. He spent the day writing down everything he wanted to do before he dies. I'm expecting an offer letter from an agency today and soon my free days will come to an abrupt end. I'd better start enjoying my time off. Maybe Colin will meet me to play tennis tomorrow morning - say around 11 after I've digested my coffee, breakfast and the paper?
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