Masking the Void

Last night, I pulled my first all-nighter of the school year. With 18 credits, a student initiated musical, a workstudy position, and design deadlines stacked up neatly on my table of responsibilities, doing homework at the Dutch Bakery until 6:00am was completely inevitable.

I over commit myself, I think most people do. In today's society, sleeping has become not so much an act of necessary rejuvenation for our bodies, but an optional quick recovery period, that only reboots our batteries with just enough juice to finish our latest project.

After thinking though all of this, I find myself asking the basic question. Why do I over commit myself to endless responsibilities? Unfortunately, I actually don't have an answer for this.

A few days ago I found myself in a situation that helped me understand a little further. A friend of mine asked me to assist him with a big project he was working on. I clearly didn't have the time to commit, but I said yes.

In the moment, I didn't think about all the rescheduling I would have to do, or all the nights I would spend catching up on homework assignments, or all the hours of sleep I would have to forfeit.

In the moment, I could think of nothing other than how this project would add a little speck of purpose to my life.

Perhaps that's the answer. I'm afraid of what would happen without the hustle and bustle. The eerie silence that drifts over a meaningless life is a frightening apprehension. Because when all the plays, classes, dates, parties, and smoke breaks are over, what is there left to do? Filling my ical with events and rehearsals is the only thing that masks the void. Does the illusion of purpose protect us from the reality of being unimportant?

In the meantime, I've added yet another responsibility.

abs.