I think, on average, as humans and as people, we are rather industrious. We have a great capacity to put our all into whatever we want to accomplish, and to allocate our resources towards fulfilling our goals. And it can be exhausting, stressful, and perhaps even damaging. Unfortunately for most of us, we usually don't have a good read on exactly how hard we tend to work ourselves. At the very least, I know that I'm terrible at keeping track of it. In many ways, this semester proved more taxing than I was consciously aware. It took this Thanksgiving break for me to finally register just how badly I was in need of a little serious, uninterrupted R&R. I think that often, we are prone to take vacations for granted, but in truth, they serve an important purpose not often recognized.

At the foremost, I think vacations function as a nice, temporary bout of physical and mental escape from the day-to-day tedium of school, work, and other forms of obligation. Now, I don't mean to suggest that our responsibilities are the bringer of all evil; like most activities, however, they can take a lot from us, and sometimes the best way to recharge is to simply take a step back and smell the flowers. Either at home or away from it, getting out of town or making a return to an older household is excellent for setting the mind at ease, and hitting the pause button for our other concerns. Out of sight, out of mind, after all-- but not always.

Because we can find ourselves so far removed from our troubles on vacation, it also presents us with an excellent opportunity to reflect on them, looking from the outside in. In my case, a little time back home led to a quick mental surrender: "Boy, I've been keeping busy." Personally, being rather sloth-like in nature and always admiring the value of leisure time, I thought I was being understandably generous with my own self-care and personal affairs; yet, over this week, I find that I may have given myself a little less wiggle-room in my schedule than perhaps was necessary. Unironically, having an abundance of free time is an excellent way to realize you had forgotten what genuine leisure felt like. I found myself quite baffled at how easily my perception of that had been warped.

Thus, my message for you all today, at the risk of sounding cliché, is to make the most of your vacation, in whatever way is most prevalent to you. Spend it with family, spend it with yourself, a favorite book, or even a favorite board game. Do with it what you felt unable to do during the course of your normal schedule, unafraid to experiment. And also know this: you are the only one who should be judging your vacation. No one else can determine how you could best be spending your time off, so don't allow others to come in and try and dictate your hard-earned time. In a parody of poor taste, ask not what you can do for your vacation, but what your vacation can do for you.