Archive | December, 2018

Is Time On Your Side?

11 Dec

The Rolling Stones told us, back in the 60s, that time was on our side.

I think a lot about time lately.

When I was a teacher, my life was very time-detailed.  I knew the exact date, the exact time, and exact everything related to time because, well, it seemed important that a teacher be that way.

Now, working for myself, I rarely know the exact date.  There are some holidays which sneak right by me because, in many ways, I’m clueless about time now that I am in a different situation.  On a related note, there are times(events)  I’ve completely forgotten though, at the time, they seemed very important.  What’s up with that?

I’m as likely to remember the sweet time of my first kiss, decades ago, as I am to remember to make time to take the garbage out to the curb tomorrow.

Time is fleeting, and the older you get it becomes obvious that The Stones were full of baloney, but if it is fleeting, why is it that unpleasant moments seem to drag out forever, as though the hands on the clock are stuck in one position?

And then we have Dr. Seuss’s opinion on time:

“How did it get so late so soon? Its night before its afternoon. December is here before its June. My goodness how the time has flewn. How did it get so late so soon?”

More naps these days

Time is running out!  Well duh!  Time has been running out since the day we were born, and yet most of us act like we have an unlimited supply of it.

Do I have time to write the novels I still want to write? Do I have time to bestow on Bev the love she deserves?  Do I have time to become the man I’ve always wanted to be.

No, Mick Jagger, time is definitely not on my side.  I’d better get busy while I still have time.

Bill

“Helping writers to spread their wings and fly.”

The Routine Life

4 Dec

The familiar beep is annoying at best.  Ironic since I chose that particular sound because it was the least annoying.

Six a.m. on a Friday . . .

My world . . .

Stumble in the darkness, a daily metaphor, shower, toss down some orange juice, and settle down in front of the computer no later than 6:30.  That time is important to me, though I know not why.

Pound out the words, make customers happy, it’s always about the customers, check emails for instructions, communicate confusion, finally settle into a rhythm of content b.s. designed to score higher with the Google gods, what a silly, silly game I play . . . but it pays the bills and that cannot be ignored.

Everything goes smoothly, done by ten, giving me half an hour to slay some bad guys in my latest novel, and ten-thirty marks the time to clean up the kitchen and prepare for an early lunch with Bev, who is due home by eleven.

Day in, day out, sunrise, sunset, swiftly flow the years . . .

The afternoons are for the farm, feed the chickens, go for a walk with Maggie, make repairs to coops, that sort of thing, thoroughly enjoyable except during mud season, and then not so much, but even my worst days are pretty damned good.

More often than not inspiration visits me on the farm.  My muse loves it out there and, seriously, why wouldn’t she?

Home by three, clean up the house, feed dogs, check emails, organize for the next day, and settle in for Bev’s return at six-thirty.  Most evenings are for us, our alone time, the time when bonding happens and the marriage is strengthened.

And that’s how my days go.  I stick to a routine because, well, life is better for me in a routine. It’s taken me a lifetime to reach that realization. Obsessive-compulsive personalities, like mine, function better when the days are mapped out and randomness is eliminated.

And I’m fine with that.  I do all right.  I accomplish things within the confinement, not allowing the addictions to roam free. It’s worked well for me for twelve years now; don’t fix it if it ain’t broken, or as a mentor once told me, adopt the K.I.S.S. Method  .  . . Keep It Simple Stupid!

What works for you, works for you.  What works for me, works for me.

Bill

“Helping writers to spread their wings and fly.”