My dear grasshopper. My sweet little one. Everyone struggles with time.
Eminent mortality. No way around it. The unavoidable end. No one ever has enough. How quickly it passes.
And so how do you cope? The old saying rings true: so much to do, so little ... rest.
Many years of my life were spent in active protest. I locked myself in a concrete bubble of reading, writing, wine, laughter and friends. I made my academic deadlines, but other than that, time was merely a deity I did not believe in.
Then something changed. A link, once out of place, suddenly fell in and I started pedaling. Quickly. Incessantly. I made the decision to do it all, to take Nike's advice and just get it done. Traveling up a steady incline for some time, I have now reached a fairly flat plateau of frantic production.
Perhaps it is my biological clock screaming to be heard -- just a few more years of "my time" lady! Wake up!
Two part-time jobs, two part-time schools, two volunteer gigs, babysitting and an artistic thesis that keeps getting bigger with each new sketch. To top it off, I am socializing with the same mentality -- partying like I'm recently legal, never missing an opportunity to drink wine until sunrise, constantly in search of potential friends... something's gotta go.
And unfortunately, it's the time.
Time to go to bed.
Time to sleep, to relax.
For tomorrow is another day, full of potential productivity.
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