REPOST: “Because History Repeats Herself.”
Dear Gods of Digital Time and Calendar Power,
Thank you for the “Fall Back” and “Spring Forward” you so graciously grant. Personally, I appreciate a gesture of goodwill intent, but really: an hour? Really? It quite frankly makes no difference unless you’re one of those persons who looks at day-parts and decides that shaving an extra five minutes from every morning shower over a one week period will allow you more time in the Starbucks line. (We all need more time at the ‘Bucks if you ask me).
Harmony, equilibrium, balance, regularity…they are all desired, but I find them elusively slipping between my treks in and out of car doors, to and from my home, scanning key cards for classroom entry, visiting my mother (a necessity), finding time to read stellar college essays, spending quality time with dear friends, and loving on James Baldwin by natural light. All of these leisurely items mean something to me, but so does having time to write. Again, it’s NOT writer’s block. Really, it’s not. I have somehow lost all sight of time management, balance, equilibrium, and just cashing in on a daytime pass to simply “blow it off.” Sometimes you just gotta “Blow it off,” and IT could essentially be any of the aforementioned…except visiting my mother.
In this “lately inconsistent” blog life of mine, I often identify and locate troublesome, bullet point tips for “this and that.” The lovely list below spells it all out in bullets straight from a loaded machine gun called “Life.”
Currently, I’m munching on pecan halves, drinking caffeine, and listening to George Benson croon “The Greatest Love of All.” (Hmmm. What IS the greatest love of all? Right now it’s pecans). All three of my late night indulgences quantify the following suggested bullet points:
- Slow down (Interpretation: “Blow it off.”)
- Don’t sweat the small stuff (Clarification: “Deadline? What Deadline?”)
- Simplify (Eat pecans, drink caffeine, and blare Benson).
Gee, I’m rather good at this Balancing Your Life thing.
Unapologetic and loosely stacked to my laptop’s left are papers choked by black binder clips. They are an assorted hodge-podge of “Penny Stuff” like essays I like & love written by critically acclaimed writers whom I adore, assignments written by AWOL college students, and a plethora of envelopes. Sealed envelopes. Rectangular, white, evil envelopes. Envelopes with my address and a sender’s funky, logo. (Sorry Sprint, I’m really T-mobile).
O.K. fine. So they’re not just random envelopes: they’re bills. Funny how it’s so abundantly clear when an envelope harboring a bill can never be mistaken for a love letter or a check. That Mayo Clinic logo is a dead give away. (God bless ’em…stand in line Mayo).
I guess the latter rant would be the bullet called, “Procrastination.” No word with the prefix “Pro” and suffix “Nation” should be so nasty and attacking (who on earth is not pro nation?) It’s one of those words that makes every adult feel like the loser of the week.
My conscious often dialogues with my guilt, “Why haven’t you finished the laundry?”
My ego sufficiently responds, “I was doing the dishes you idiot…but I was NOT procrastinating.”
Ego wins and lives up to its narcissistic existence.
(Note: I have never met an ego that wasn’t a name caller. What a horrid trait to possess).
The Scrabble Game image to the left speaks volumes. I love Scrabble as much as I love Life, Family, Work, Career, and well…Balance. Thing is, there never seems to be enough time to devote to each, and just like my favorite board game of fun-fame, I never have enough Scrabble letters to make the word I really want to spell: ESCAPE!
Penny Dickerson 2012