You know what’s funny? Time. Time’s funny. Take, for example, the bacon sandwich I ate this morning. That hot, greasy deliciousness that was smothered in tomato ketchup and smelled like heaven? That feels like it happened years ago when in reality, it’s only been a mere 12 hours ago (okay, so maybe not ‘mere’ – 12 hours is a long time to go without bacon). It works the other way too. Take my last blog post, for example. I put that out just last week, right? WRONG! It’s been two months! Two months? What happened there? I was tricked by the accordion of time, that’s what happened.
Time is Stretch Armstrong.
I get it, you know. I understand about time being a man-made concept and perhaps it’s not linear at all and blah blah blah. Yeah, okay, maybe. My brain isn’t cut out for physics and the universe and all that jazz. I just make up stories that make me giggle instead. But regardless of how time works and regardless of whether man, God, or dolphins* made it, surely it should work the same in my head, in my experiences?
Time is like one of those leaflets that you fold out and then can never fold back in the same way ever again. Damn leaflets. Why do they make them so blooming complicated?
So this whole time dilemma has got me thinking. Is there any way that I can manage my time better? I mean, I’ve promised friends book reviews which failed to appear (I’m sorry guys – I’ll get to it asap), I’ve started author interviews with people and not finished them, I’ve even missed the write up of our last two (yes TWO) Annie’s Bar Book Club meetings. What’s happened to me? It’s like blogger me is melting into a pot of bloggy gloop.
Of course, if I could learn to stop procrastinating, I’d have an abundance of time but come on…be realistic. I like procrastinating, as unproductive as it is, and besides, a girl needs some procrastination time, right?
I’ve tried keeping a diary – it works for a while and then I forget about it or can’t be bothered to do whatever I’ve scheduled in, or something else more important (or more desirable) comes up. I’ve tried setting a strict routine, which works for a while but soon gets stale and boring. I quite like the idea of writing down what I’m doing for each hour of the day and then examining it for productivity but I’d only forget to write it down and then make it up at the end of the day.
Time is the bellows of life, moving in and out and blowing us on our merry way.
It certainly got me scratching my head, this problem of time. But do you know what I came to realise? I came to realise that, well – f*ck it! Who cares? I am me and I like me and if that means I’ve got to embrace the movement of time, then that’s what I’ll do. So the bacon was years ago even though it wasn’t? No problem, I’ll make more bacon. And so my last blog post was two months ago? Well then…okay, so that’s not so good but I write this blog because I like to write this blog – it’s not a job, or a way to make money, or a way to sell books (although, just to clarify, I’m not saying you shouldn’t buy my book if you want to). I’m sorry if I occasionally let people down – I try not to and for those I’ve missed in the last few months, I’ll get to you, I promise. But in the meantime, I’m going to enjoy the ride that time provides. That gentle, rocking in and out movement – and I urge everyone else to do the same.
Time is one of those document folders with the many pockets. There’s no point in worrying about which pocket is biggest and why. It opens and closes for reason. All that’s left to do is to cram those pockets full with bits of paper, stories and tall tales, experiences and life, friendship and family and love.
And so here’s to a very stuffed time!
*Dolphins who invented time…there’s got to be a story in that…