Half a gram cracker smeared with Nutella lay limp out of my mouth as I pressed export on the Premier video editing program. 1 hour and 30 minutes remained. I tucked the computer away on the unfamiliar night stand and rolled over to take one last check at the five preset alarms on my phone. Because you never know when our beloved form of communication will fail and I will be doomed to not wake up right on time. Then I checked Facebook. Twitter. Instagram, and three separate email accounts once more.

When I was younger I begged for a life of experience, and to a non justifiable extent, fame. At the age of 23 I am sleeping at my aunt and uncles house in Gruene, Texas due to a pansy fear of returning home in the rain. I’m jolted awake (please forgive me phone for ever doubting your abilities) at 5am to a full days worth of task crammed into two hours before driving back to Austin for 8 hours of meetings and four more hours of work to follow. My hair is the opitomy of mess (mainly because it exudes my life’s permanent state) and the Chipotle burrito bowl container is sliding around my floor mat 24 hours later. Clearly dropping it in a trashcan would take away farrr too much time from the days task.

My bumper-to-bumper drives are taunted by the words of others saying my generation acts like busy is cool. And that being busy is an excuse for not managing time well.

To them I say suck it. Or more so, I ask why? Why must we act like being buys is a bad thing?

As a sophomore in college I can remember sitting around on a Saturday like it was my job. Literally, it was my job. I sat with my roommates and watched TV. We poured a glass of apple juice, and watched more TV. Around mid afternoon we would force ourselves off the couch for a Target run. Yes, the most active part of our day was spending $100 or more on things we would never use. Or apartment decor we would hate a week later.

Now, if I have just one hour of down time I treat it like what I would assume an addict treats his last hit. It is pure gold. I run around the perimeter of my two room apartment five times, jump on the bed for three minutes, then settle in to watch all the 20 reality shows I’ve DVRed. Because busy girls spring for the extra $25 a month to make sure they don’t give way on their shows, this I am sure. I do it all while simultaneously reading the books I have purchased with good intentions of finishing before my eye sight gives way.

So yes, while I understand why people think we are wasting time being busy, I also think they are not factoring in that we are really just wasting time sitting in traffic.

Kidding.

But honestly, we are not wasting time. We are young, and being busy isn’t a bad thing. We have dreams and they take more than a few hours to fulfill. I want to fight and push and beg and plead now so I don’t have to when I’m 60. Though lets be real, I’ll be doing it when I’m 60 because my generation isn’t capable of sitting still.

All I’m trying to say is that I don’t think being busy is a bad thing because I am having fun doing it. Though, don’t ask my mom, she will dispute my accusations, as I call her in tears of alarming concern more times than is acceptable for a 23-year-old to do so. But the average age children stop asking their parents for help now is 41, so really it’s fine.

As long as you are doing what you love, busy isn’t an option. Busy is something you desire. And one day you will find someone else who makes you not want to be as busy. You two will fall madly in love and things will slow down in an harmonious way. Because I also truly believe in fairytales. And that is all. The end.