Time On My Hands

I was writing in my Morning Pages (as suggested in the book I happened to pick up a few months ago and only recently came around to reading) this morning, and a few things came to mind.

When we look at time, we can’t measure it tangibly. That is to say, you can’t feel it, hold it, or see it. Time is invisible, only measured by machines tuned to tick away increments of time– but do we really have time to think about what time is or is not? Come to think of it, can you remember the last time you thought about time itself? But on the other side of the coin, time is measured not by quantity, but quality. This is important.

Imagine how many instances in which you have run out of time for a project. A deadline approached, and that meant the end of your happy day. The amount of stress caused by this limiting of time is probably one of the most dangerous things for human health. This is poorly-spent, low-quality time, because you’re not spending it doing what you love, but doing what others want. You have essentially decided to work for someone other than yourself. But how much of this time could have been spent making for yourself some crafting ideas, writing projects, cooking skill modifications– all while not worrying about a deadline? Chances are, you only get those alone times at home, when others depend on you still to further invest your time and attention to what could otherwise still amount to working for others and not for yourself.

And I’m not saying that time itself is of primary concern for health, but rather, how it is spent on yourself. Think of it this way– what would make you happier? Less stress, more time at home? More time for hobbies, less time being crunched for time? My answer would be, “Yes. That would make me happier.” To which an antagonist would say, “But you need money to pay for food and blah blah.” What if you made your own money on your own time, with a skill you’ve personally mastered because of a hobby you loved which didn’t depend on time, but was revolved around time such that when it [your project] was complete, you made something beautiful?

This is what I would call “quality time.” Quality time is spent with the ones you love, doing the things you enjoy, without so much as having to worry about making others happy based on how much hard work you put in without so much as a wisp of contentment. Quality time is spent without regard for the rest of the world. As many problems as there are going on with the world, your family needs your presence and love more so than anything the television has to offer. Happiness is one of those things that are defined by how much quality time is spent in your life. If you take too much of your own time to expend for someone else, then you’re probably going through an experience of negativity at present, and don’t know how to get it out of your system– but understanding that quality time is as free as anything, I would take advantage of that as much as possible.

So why this post? After all, I’ve reflected on things before. I’ve made a few short stories having nothing to do with real-time brainstorming. In fact, this post might be boring you right now. The answer is the Morning Pages. I have only been writing Morning Pages for three days, and already I’ve seen a side of me which has become parasitic– and that is my business, thank you. But I’ve discovered absolutely many things about myself in just three days, and I understand that whatever was blocking my desire to write (about anything) has started to clear up. I’ve began to journal on a somewhat regular basis, and that is probably one of the freest things I can think of– discovering yourself. In fact, finding myself through writing a few pages of hand-written notes per morning, is what I would call time well spent.

So, how much time is truly measured in the world? There are more than seven billion people in the world right now. Seven billion. Each second on the clock ticks seven billion seconds every second. That’s 420 billion + seconds per minute. That’s 26.2 trillion seconds per hour. Don’t you think that maybe we have more than enough time to spend on ourselves and with family rather than using it in your own personal form of financial slavery? That’s amazing. Next time someone tries to tell you there are only 60 seconds per minute, you can say otherwise– because time is dependent on personal perspective, now isn’t it?


Ramifications of Lacking Discipline

I should introduce this piece of writing by stating outright that I do not have the disciplinary background to do a single activity for longer than a few months at a time– so to sit here and state this while being perfectly clear about my message (for this post appears to be ironic or resembling a total contradiction) seems to be inverse to the main point, as many years of typographical practice have led me to this point.

Aside from my daily life of dawdling, working, or studying any subject which comes across my mind at seemingly random intervals, I’m pretty much just like any other ordinary person. I wish to do more. My current job is not my passion to any degree– verily, I’m quite unhappy with their behaviors toward me of late. [And damn, this coconut lemonade is really strange.] Being a part-time worker is BARELY covering bills. As someone who likes to think and read all day, being a dining room cleaner isn’t what I envisioned my life to be twelve years after graduating high school. My ability to foretell years into the future, just as with a lot of people, is limited. So it is with much disdain that I must be stuck working at a place which does not respect me. This is probably quite applicable to most people, but the yearning to do more than cleaning up dishes after people have finished them leads me to believe that it’s a dead-end job which I must leave soon.

Commiserate. You might not, but those who do have been in my shoes, and perhaps for much longer than might bear unnecessary repeating. You may believe this will become a post about whining about working for others and making money for someone other than myself. That may certainly be true, but my lack of discipline didn’t let me brainstorm. I’m just winging it just as I do most anything else on any given day.

So, what should I talk about? Surely, there must be something I wish to get off my chest if I have decided to sit down here for a few minutes. Perhaps, yes, I do have some venting– perhaps no more about my job (which I’ve already done) but probably that I wish for something great to come to fruition. Being stuck at the bottom of the hierarchical society of income earners, it’s difficult to simply do something. More so out of uncertainty and fear do I dare hesitate. What else do I know? I haven’t really trained myself for anything else. I attempted to get back into electrician’s work, but the aptitude test decided that I’m not fit to perform that kind of work. Go figure– when I was in the Navy, I didn’t feel a connection (figuratively speaking) to the work I was doing. I had felt that my time in the military was nothing more than filling a job slot, and for some reason my ASVAB didn’t make me feel good about my intellectual capacity to any degree.

My strongest ability for anything is writing. Captain Obvious would probably tell me, “You should write more often.” I have had many people actually tell me throughout my life exactly this kind of phrase, very repeatedly. My honest response to all of this is simply this: “I don’t know the first thing about being a writer, other than that I can write.” And it is true.

But when it comes down to it, I don’t have a style of writing other than this which you’re reading now (if you made it this far). What I’d stated about not knowing the first thing about writing is true– I don’t know what this really is other than a first-person narrative. Autobiography? Maybe if I made an autobiography, I would discover some things about myself which have been hidden from me for so long, if I really sit down and put my mind to it. But I still don’t know with whom I should speak. I have Googled thousands upon thousands of things over my life on the internet when I really started using it (perhaps around the age of 21 when i ended my Navy stint). None of it involved publishing, or the writing field in any fashion. It never occurred to me to consider using the Internet as a tool for writing, except for the short excerpts you see on my page right now.

And here, at least, I can place anything I need to state, regardless of the amount of importance I hope you imbibe from reading this. I might be missing some massive mark by a minuscule distance by uttering with brash hopelessness, “Maybe people don’t care about autobiographies because only the most important men and women have ever written them.” By the gods, I do hope I am wrong. And besides, this one post would be far too short to be anything close to any biographies ever published. Perhaps it could be part of a compilation?

Skills vary. A nobody like myself would probably not have the minimum 200-page book, but with enough information compiled, I’m sure I could fill at least two volumes. My memory would have to be outstanding to remember certain details. (I like how I’m pondering this in the form of writing, knowing it could actually be a part of something bigger, kind of in a write-as-you-go manner.) I have certainly done nothing which deserves exemplary national recognition, that’s absolute. But my experiences are my own, and perhaps this is what people wish to see in such a book. We’ll see if this is a project I can sustain; being that I have given myself the task of studying logic books for greater than a couple of months at a time, maybe I can include several projects? I don’t know for certain. If I even keep this up after this has finished, at least I’ll know later that I have a solid start with this… this… foreword? Suffice it to say that this will be interesting. I’ll start soon enough. I’ll begin with some notes, I suppose. I’ll give this some serious consideration in the coming days.

Until the next time I appear here,