I'm Just Saying…

May 8, 2010

The March of Time

Filed under: Daily Life — jillamyrosenblatt @ 5:09 am
Tags: , , , ,

I meant to write a blog this week. Actually, I meant to write more than one blog this week. I tried to grab some time to write on Monday. And Tuesday, And Wednesday. To be honest by Thursday my creativity was in the toilet, and I threw up my hands and channel flipped all night. As a side note, I hadn’t seen the movie Without a Trace in quite a while, and it was very good.

The point is, the reason I never got to writing a blog is that I had no time. None. Not even a spare minute. How is that possible? I always return to the same old argument: I’m an unmarried woman with no children, therefore, my responsibilities at home are few. How is it I have no time? Where does it go? I’m beginning to think time is like socks in the dryer. I turn away for just a second, and when I look back, it’s gone. Only in time terms, “it’s gone” translates into “four hours.” I find myself thinking in blocks of time, like some mathematicians enjoy working with whole numbers. If I oversleep on the weekend and get up at eleven, “the whole day is gone.” If my chores run long and I don’t get back in the house before seven p.m., “the whole night is gone.” I’m my own worst enemy.  

I have always been a time conscious person, a compulsive clock watcher. When I owned a watch, I was always checking the time. I didn’t have anywhere to be. I just wanted to know. As if I just kept an eye on time, I could hold on to it somehow or even get ahead of it. Silly rabbit. If you think about it, time is always talked about in terms of loss: time waits for no man, stolen time, time is fleeting, like sands in the hourglass… you know what I mean. I have no idea where the Rolling Stones got the idea for “Time is On My Side.” I think they missed a memo.

This constant feeling of rushing, operating under pressure, this idea that “I have no time,” plays havoc with my psyche. Aren’t we are the most automated society in the world? After all, I can run the washing machine and the dishwasher, microwave my dinner, roomba my living room, and swiffer wetjet my kitchen and bathroom. While everything is washing, rinsing, cooking, vacuuming, and drying, I can pay my bills either on the phone or online. To be honest, I don’t actually own a roomba. The point is, I should have tons of time on my hands.  And yet I don’t.

Where am I going wrong? Am I the only one experiencing this problem? I don’t think so. There’s an entire industry of books and seminars for improving time management. It’s ironic that if someone didn’t read the books or attend the seminars, they’d have more time. I’m just saying. The point is, when I pop into the supermarket on a Sunday and it’s packed like a frat house prank of college students in a phone booth, I know I’m not alone.  No one else has any time either.

As a consequence of this, I haven’t done any writing for Deciphering Bella. Not being able to work on my book elicits a very specific type of depression, what I like to think of as the author’s black mood cocktail. It’s a concoction of one part sadness, mixed with two parts frustration, and add a splash of anger. Voila! You have one pissed off writer.

Well, it’s 1:00 a.m., very early Saturday morning, the weekend. I hope to be on the go a little less and write much more. As a matter of fact, the plan is to go night-night now and get up early and get right to work. I want to be out of bed by 9 a.m. After all, if it gets much later than that, the whole day will be gone. 🙂

I’m just saying.

J.

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