A caveat: I realize this post is a little grumpy. I’d rather write a Segullah post that’s intelligent, or enlightened, or at least pithy. (Ha! What am I thinking? I’m never pithy.) But no. It seems that today, I must whine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Now, onward!
***
There are certain phrases I believe should be banned from polite, thoughtful conversation. Among them:
“You look tired.” (Gee, thanks! I thought I looked okay, but apparently I’m coming off as weary, hollow-eyed, and disheveled.)
“You think little kids are hard? Wait until they’re teenagers. It only gets worse.” (This sweeping generalization is almost always offered by a well-rested 45-year-old woman who regularly lunches with friends at sit-down restaurants and hasn’t dealt with explosive diarrhea in at least a decade.)
“Blah blah blah blah Real Americans!” (Try as I might, I can’t come up with a conversation where the phrase “Real Americans” might be used in a non-annoying fashion.)
But this post is about one phrase in particular. A phrase I’ve often heard applied to me and my hobbies/habits/passions over the years. A phrase whose prevalence in conversation has risen exponentially with the advent of the great scourge of modern times (you know, the Internet). The phrase is:
“I Just Don’t Have Time For That.”
For many years, I’ve heard the phrase “I Just Don’t Have Time For That” pop up when the conversation turns to recreational reading. Versions of this popular phrase include (but are not limited to): “I just can’t sit still for that long” [but apparently you can, Mrs. Lazy Bottom]; “I had to give that up when I had kids” [but apparently you're content to watch your offspring suffer through a blighted childhood of neglect, Mrs. Selfish Pants]; and the pièce de résistance, “I prefer to spend my reading time with the scriptures.” [No snarky parenthetical aside needed with that one. The smackdown is too obvious.]
Now, some might respond to my complaint by saying, “But I really don’t have time to do much reading!” And that might be completely, 100% true and valid. We all make choices about which good things we do and don’t have time for; I, for example, choose not to make time to train for marathons, grow a robust vegetable garden, or join the group of moms who do Joy School for their preschoolers. (I pay others to grow and bottle my produce and preschool-ify my 3-year-old. Oh, that I could pay someone to do my cardio as well.) The difference is this: if somebody I know mentions that she teaches Joy School, I can’t imagine saying, “Oh, well, I don’t have time for that” in response. Because the unmistakable subtext of such a comment would be that I think her choice is a waste of time, or beneath me, or somehow just plain wrong. And I don’t think that; in fact, I frankly admire people who do so many good things that I don’t have the talent or energy or general wherewithal to pursue.
Could you imagine a conversation where someone mentions her exercise routine and somebody else responds by saying, somewhat haughtily, “Well, I just don’t have time for that”? (Even more awesome: what if somebody said, “I prefer to spend my exercising time reading the scriptures?”) Maybe once in a blue, blue moon someone would insist she doesn’t exercise because it’s not worthy of her time, but I’m certain that if anyone overheard it, they’d feel a little like this woman “protesteth too much” and is trying to assuage her own guilt. Because, you know, exercising is good for you, and making time to strengthen and condition our bodies is obviously important. Of course, making time to strengthen and condition our minds is equally important—even vital—which is what reading is all about. “But reading can also be for fun. For recreation!” some may say. But playing volleyball or taking a Zumba class can be fun too, yes? I guess the difference is that when one is reading, one is learning, but one is also sitting down. Or even—heaven forfend!—LYING down.
[Slight aside: Sometimes I have this little fantasy about the creation "intellectual health" clubs with child care centers where moms can park their kids for up to two hours a day and then go read, or write, or engage in spirited debate over current events. Maybe such a place will exist during the millennium.]
But this rant isn’t just about reading. Oh, no. It continues! Because the new object of the “I just don’t have time for that” pronouncement is, you guessed it, the dreaded Internet. As evidenced by my presence on this very blog, I’m known to occasionally interact with the Internet. (I wouldn’t call what I do online “surfing”—first, because it’s such a ridiculous verb, and second, because “surfing” connotes passive consumption, whereas my online experience is more interactive and creative.) Anyway, perhaps I’m the only one to notice this, but lately it seems that whenever a Relief Society lesson is taught on time management or priorities, a woman raises her hand to congratulate herself that she doesn’t blog or (even worse) “go on Facebook” and then proceeds to describe how earnestly bewildered she is that “anybody would have time for that.”
I want to raise my hand and respond by saying that any hobby or pastime or interest, when taken to the extreme, can be detrimental. If a woman is spending three hours a day playing Farmville or chatting with her high school boyfriend, then yes, there’s a problem. If woman is working out three hours a day or meticulously ironing the household linens for three hours a day or watching Game Show Network for three hours a day, there’s probably a problem, too. Prudence, priorities, good judgment. All important to remember. But when I hypothetically raise my hand, I also want to mention all I’ve gained from the time I’ve spent online. I’ve formed, renewed, and strengthened relationships. Engaged in enlightening and spiritually nourishing conversations. Improved my skill as a writer (this particular post notwithstanding). And—something that all Mormons should be able to get behind—done real and lasting family history work by writing about myself, my kids, my husband, and the world around me on my personal blog. All good things, yes? Very good things.
But, more often that not, I don’t raise my hand. So I’m doing it here, on the Internet, where the very women who are bewildered by my ability to make time for such ridiculousness certainly won’t notice it. Ah, the irony.
This post isn’t really about the Internet anyway, though. Or reading. Or even my ongoing struggle to ignore others’ judgments and go blithely on my way (although I’m getting better at that, I really am). No, mostly I just wanted to tell people to stop saying, “I just don’t have time for that,” no matter what the “that” is, because even if you don’t think you’re being rude when you say it? You kinda are.
You’re on the Internet, so you obviously agree with me on at least one point. And if you don’t? You’re free to express yourself if, and only if, you avoid using that dreaded phrase.
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