While attempting to not be busy
long gone are the days of mixed tapes
photo© Erin Johnson TorC New Mexico
March 16, 2025
I keep thinking about this one scene in Seinfeld.
[scene: George is walking down the street and bumps into a friend he hasn’t seen in some time]
George: “Hey where you’ve been? I haven't seen you in awhile.”
Friend: “Oh, I’ve been busy.”
George: Don’t give me busy. Who's busy?
I’m busy. We’re all busy.
Eeeeverybooooddy’s busy….Alright, tell me what’s kept you sooo busy!”
George Costanza (Jason Alexander), in his usual gestural rant, goes off to fellow actor, played by Jon Lovitz on the street set of Seinfeld. Do you remember it? It was the episode where the friend, Lovitz, lied. He said that he had cancer, a sneaky ruse to collect money, a parking place, and, in the vernacular of the show, a rug, aka a toupee. Having cancer was what had kept him busy.
It touches on so many social awkward inadequacies that are clearly just as relevant now as they were in the 90s. ‘Busy’ can be the default answer. You can hide behind it. For some it’s unacceptable. For others it is habitual. The excuse was a lie but it silenced George immediately. It struck a chord—the guilty one.
However prior to the jab, I found George’s greeting honest and real irrespective of his dramatically deprecating way of communicating. Sure we are busy or at least that’s what we tell ourselves. To be busy has been wrapped up so tightly with a destabilizing sense of self-importance that it can be difficult to dislodge. And to admit that one is not busy, argh. It’s like being condemned. To unwind oneself from the proverbial glorification of ‘busy’ is something that I’ve grappled with for a long time. And still do. It’s dissatisfaction in disguise. The voice that sometimes still surfaces is: if I’m not busy I must not be successful, important, worthy, contributing meaning or value.
Later in the same episode, George and Jerry are sitting at their usual booth, at which time George tells him that in order to look busy, you look annoyed. You know what, albeit he’s a great actor, but it’s very convincing. Ah, what a bother it is to be busy.
What’s the deal with being busy anyway? Is it really that insatiable? The irony and beauty of the show was that it flipped this notion on its head. Each character would ebb and flow with some version of ‘work’. They’d be in and out of jobs. Experimenting. Trying new things. Not pretending to be an architect, just wanting to pretend. If anything they were busy being mildly self-absorbed with one another—brilliant and hilarious.
Humans were not designed to labor for ungodly years of their life without reprieve, reverie, or pause. I’ve made a pact with myself that I will no longer brag about being busy. Instead, honestly choose the load I want to carry and work in the way that best suits me. and consciously drop the one I don’t. I regularly tell myself it’s okay that I’m not busy today. Busy is not better. A radical disciplined practice seeing that I came from generations, let alone a culture where if you weren’t up hustling, doing or cleaning something, you might as well forget about being validated. I’ve stumbled upon my own version of hide-and-seek, and have found the space and time that was already there, hovering, waiting, wanting to play. So I pause, look around, and reorient myself if need be.
photo© Erin Johnson shop window TorC New Mexico
Also when I think of what comes upstream, there is little reason for me to be wrapped so tight. I think the fact that I’m creeping closer to 50 also plays a part. Not in the oh-shit-what-now sense, but the clearest desire for the slow and steady.
I’m calling it my bouillon years. My marinating years. I savor watching my garden magically do its thing, making a yummy meal that I hope can be shared and equally enjoyed, having a long conversation with a friend, or even better visiting my dear friend-family now separated by state or country lines.
Maybe you love being busy and feed on it. Perhaps you agree with George and that it’s annoying. Now, even though the days of making a mix tape for your best friend are long gone, I find that there are still ways to protect and participate in slow time.
Stare out the window and count the different types of birds, clouds, or people you see
Call a friend, even better have that friend for lunch
Write a letter and hand make something that resembles an envelope
Brew a pot of tea, pour a cup, drink the cup
Mend a garment that you love—it’s missing a button or has a little hole (an idea that came while staring out the window. Maybe you need a little sewing kit)
Make this chocolate cake (add a few chocolate chips and chopped hazelnuts to the batter. I can attest to its greatness. One can easily halve the recipe)
Resist all urges to pick up your phone and scroll
Yours, Erin
WHAT I LEARN WHILE LISTENING
I’m making the calculated decisions to migrate off Instagram and subsequently Facebook (one mother two different kids). Indisputably my little corner of this ecosystem is very small, yet I find it no less disrupted by these behemoths. I find pleasure in doing things wholeheartedly and never quite found my stride on these platforms that satiated this part of myself. Nor do I think it is required to have a business—that’s the illusion.
This update may not be as relevant to you because you are already here. You are reading this letter. I intend to maintain an online presence through this newsletter and my website. Reason being: it never left me fulfilled, rewarded, or inspired—more like scrambled, envious, and deficient. And that isn’t how I want to feel. On the contrary, I want to surround myself with things that light me up, in all ways.
Thanks for being here.