I have a busy schedule for the next few months. I could document it here, but I will spare you the details. This is common practice for me. I like to be busy. A good friend of mine often reminds me, “Busy people do.” And I certainly do.
I rarely take time to actually watch a television show in real time. The year before Madeleine was born, my husband gifted me with TIVO, and we have never stopped storing an exorbitant amount of television in its cache. (Seriously, we will never be able to watch it all.) Lately I’ve been catching up on shows using subscription services like Netflix and Hulu, but tonight I watched a show while it was on–commercials and all.
Joy Choice #3: I stopped to watch This Is Us. I never do this. I catch up on weekends and ball my eyes out while my husband occupies himself with football. Not tonight. Tonight I made time, set aside my work, and watched the entire program through bleary eyes while it was broadcast. (Oh Big Three, why do you do this to me?!?). Bleary eyes? How does this connect with joy? It’s this simple:
Stories bring me joy.
Stories are exactly why I spend my days doing what I do. It’s why I read. It’s why I teach Shakespeare, Dickens, Homer, Harper Lee. It’s why I passionately share these stories with my students. It’s why I spend ten minutes a day listening to my students share some of theirs. It’s why I ask my children to recount their days over dinner, and it’s why I’m writing this tonight before turning in, snuggled under cotton sheets with my Kindle in my hands. I love stories. It brings me such happiness to watch/listen/read stories. There’s such joy in every one.