Cleaning out my bedroom at home has ranked high on my list of J-term goals. As I prepare to leave home for school, the following is a sampling of the items leaving my room for the bin:
- 27 dried out pens
- The collected (home)works of yours truly, collected over four years of high school
- Stratego
- Nine half-empty bottles of shampoo
Still, I find myself waiting for the sense of accomplishment I had expected to kick in and make the hours of sorting, cleaning, and tossing worthwhile.
In a pile of paper excavated from my high school backpack, I came across a bright orange pamphlet from Whole Foods featuring a close-up photograph of a grinning bald man surrounded by five tips on how to live the best life you can. The pamphlet's designers seemed to be going for a see-how-easy-this-is-you-can-do-it-with-our-products aesthetic—simplicity was implied from the slim sans-serif font to the man's crisp white shirt and unassuming, toothy smile. For the most part, the crinkled list boosted my self-satisfaction: I do try to sleep, exercise, and get sunlight whenever possible. Deeming the pamphlet's recommendations successfully completed, I moved toward the recycling bin. And yet the list's final bullet point caught my attention and made me pause before tossing it: "purpose."
Questioning purpose, or lack thereof, is a somewhat trite J-term occupation. The pamphlet's final bullet point brought me back to my current project—maybe my determination to get rid of the bouncy balls [1] I had unwittingly amassed has been an attempt to create "purpose" in my inter-semester life. Maybe I was missing the day-to-day urgency of my campus routine. But doing nothing is nice, and I had hardly spent the last few weeks in an existential daze.
Upon finding the list, however, I put on my best Carrie Bradshaw voice as I wondered just how right Whole Foods was—was relaxing this break, living without the purpose ascribed to classes, meetings, and deadlines, actually making my life less meaningful? Was I creating new purpose during my time off? Was my concern about lacking concerns a sign that I was taking Whole Foods' advice a little too seriously?
I think so. It's been a lovely few weeks of sleeping in, seeing friends, reading for pleasure, and walking around my neighborhood enough to feel like a real New Yorker again. And I know it will be even lovelier to return to campus this weekend and see my college friends as I frantically shop Gen Ed's while gearing up for another semester too full of purpose for its own good. Because while achieving ever-higher Temple Run scores is certainly satisfying, I like my iPhone even better when its calendar is full.
[1] the #1 birthday party favor of the late 90s.
