By the very reliable means of my keen and many times conceited personal exploration, I have arrived at the conclusion that my number one priority in life is My Time.
No, this post is not about utilizing Time well, and using it to achieve personal goals. None of that philosophical bullshit.
It's actually the other way round, this post is about being petty.
It’s about the internal dilemma I experience everytime some one asks me (on January 20th) whether or not I’m going to be free on NOVEMBER 13TH.
No! I don't know what I’m going to be doing! What if I say I’ll come now, and not manage to come later? What if you lose all trust in me? What if the future of the free world depends on this one decision that I’m going to make?
But more importantly, what if it interferes with some personal activity that I have no idea is going to come around yet?
I actually get super stingy about My Time(90% of which is just sitting around watching Friends), even more than I get with money, which is saying something, considering I’ve been known to think twice before helping somebody with even ten bucks.
I just automatically hate the person who asks me to spend my time on anything. ‘I could be doing something more important right now!”
Tell you what, I’ll give you a tip right here right now. Do not give me a task to do. Definitely do not give me TWO tasks to do, and never at the same time. Because I’m going to have to spend my precious Time on it. If you’re going to, then I hope you go in knowing that at some point, I’m probably going to yell at you for it. Not to mention the grudge I’m going to hold against you for all of eternity.
Social gatherings don't agree with me either.
Do not call me, I don't want to come. I don't care if it's your daughter's birthday.
Push me some more, and I’ll make one exception to my Social Gathering Rule : Your funeral.
But of course, as my friend, you enjoy special perks, like not having to know how angry I am about it.
You, my dear friend, have won the lottery by getting offered an excuse instead.
“I’m sick.”
“My cat died.”
“I had heart surgery last week.”
“My cat died.”
Some of these excuses masquerade as a sort of a friendship test, too, for if you were really my friend, you’d know that I own neither a cat nor a heart.
As is apparent, my excuses are usually on point and seemingly legitimate. But if by some miracle I’m beaten, and end up attending, my social timer gets activated. You see, beyond this timer, I lose all capability to interact with anybody.
Conversations lull, people start noticing.
“Why have you suddenly become so dull?”
“Are you alright?”
“Is everything okay?”
“What’s wrong with you?”
Like I don't know Susan, why don't you let me go home and passive-aggresively tell you about it through my blog.
Source : my blog at mariamsafoora.wordpress.com