When I first moved here three years ago, I was very bored and lonely and also floundering in a sea of doubt, uncertainty, and everyone's-job-related woe.
My job-related-whatever continues, but meanwhile, I do have part of a job. (It pays well enough to be worth the boredom and uncertainty - at least for now.)
It is the season of Floundering New People arriving. There is an annual Faculty Picnic, to which we are mandatorily invited. There are new people all over town.
There were two people at Local Music Thing who introduced themselves and their cruising-about cute smiley baby. (I asked the dude if he was visiting or permanent - there are 40 visiting faculty and 4 TT faculty hired per year - and he replied "I'm a professor." I nobly resisted the urge to roll my eyes and say "Me too, honey". He seems a bit of a tool. His wife is very nice and asked for my phone number.)
Some of this herd of New People are doubtless lovely,* and I might really enjoy knowing them. But I am so worn out and exhausted from being ill, I have to juggle the schedules of five people and go be On Stage three times a week** and I have no energy for new people.
I'm torn between a desire to be pleasant and friendly, and a feeling that all docking slots are occupied. I'm sorry, new people. I don't have time for more friends right now. Ring back in six months, please.
* Patchouli-scented white lady with dreads, at the library: probably NOT
**If I weren't doing this, I'd be unhappy and bored about my lack of a job, so a net positive, but still takes energy.
It's ok to be superficially pleasant, and to not actually make time for the new people. Maybe next year you'll feel differently, but for now you have a good excuse to be antisocial. Let the extroverts welcome the probably-not-permanent noobs.
ReplyDeleteI would like to add that every time I read your title, I hear Adele singing "Hello from the other siiiiiiide."
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