"We cannot say that time 'is' except in virtue of its continual tendency not to be" --Augustine, Confessions
I believe I've mentioned this before, but Time and I have some issues. Well, I have issues with time and it, being a non-cognizant inevitability, takes no recognition of me. Which is how it should be, I suppose. If Time started taking special exception to me it would probably in fact be more than a little unnerving. Anyway.
I am currently living in a state of transition disguised as stasis. I feel like I'm standing still, that my grand movement has been put on hold. So it is always violently disconcerting when I realize, as I occasionally do, that this is not the case. Time is in fact moving (surprise!). All of those moments and hours and afternoons, all of the in-between times, are all sneaking by me constantly. Faster than ever, it seems. All of a sudden it is time to go to work again. Time to hide again. Time to go to sleep again. And repeat. But wait--there should be so much more wedged in there! Life! Activity and exploration! I work just under 40 hours a week. I'm no longer in school. Where the hell do I get off saying I don't have enough time?
It all gets whiled away, unnoticed. Staring at cracks in windowsills. Taking thirty minutes to iron one shirt. Wandering back into the same room three times, trying to remember what I was doing, if anything. The day is spread out before me, and then before I can realize my brain's denial of time, the rushrush to work hide sleep is upon me.
I've taken up keeping a productivity journal today, both to assure myself that time is indeed passing and to try to prod myself into doing something with it. Divide it up into neat packets, my days able to be quantified and assessed. That day I ran. That day I washed and folded clothes. Today I publish a blog post. It's almost humiliating, the banality of these little lists. But even the tiniest ,most tedious of day-lists is better than the days when I can find absolutely nothing to put down. That is what I'm trying to change, to inch away from. Today hasn't been the greatest of efforts in that direction, but even a small step a little late is progress.
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