“I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread,” said Bilbo Baggins. I don’t have the One Ring, but I think I know how he feels.
I feel I am, white-knuckled, on the very edge of life’s merry-go-round, about to be flung off. My plates are wobbling, my ducks are rebelling in their row.
It’s not that I’m complaining… exactly. I DID sign myself up for this–two jobs, plus a writing career, etc. I guess I just wish I could accept it, move past that frantic feeling and get down to business. I don’t have time to panic.
Funny thing: about a year ago my boss lectured me on becoming more efficient. If we had an ‘efficiency contest’ now, I’m damn sure I’d win. I know there are people who work far more hours than I and still get more done, but still, I pride myself in my time management. I can fit any task into the bite size pieces of time I have between work and work and work. I’m writing this on my phone on my lunch break. I’ll finish it on last break, and post it when I get home.
I’ve eliminated so much time waste from my life, but I still don’t have time.
I don’t want to be efficient. I want my time back.
Time is more valuable than money. You can replace a dollar, but you can’t replace time once it’s gone. Its a shame that we sell our time so cheaply. I sell my Saturdays for fifty bucks each. Fifty bucks! That’s almost volunteering. Yes, I do it to survive, but if I valued my time at it’s true price, would I leave it at that?
I’ve got no grand moral for this story. I’m just angry, just frustrated with how long it takes to get ahead. I will get ahead. I will! I just hope I can hold it together that long.
Post Script: I found this in my drafts today. I can’t remember why I didn’t post it–maybe because I was too pissed in the moment (not a good time just to throw your thoughts online). I think that this represents the tension between where we are and where we could be, and this is healthy–as long as it remains in proper perspective and we don’t give up. Here’s to following our dreams.
–Geralyn
Geralyn Wichers 