If you know me, you know that time is my enemy. For me, there are just too many things to do, and far too little time in which to do them. Some of them are pain-in-the-ass things, like fill out paperwork, call the XX company to find out WHY they keep double billing me, make a dental appointment and actually keep it. Just like the rest of you poor, worn out MF'ers, I spend 40 hours a week working. Yes, I happen to be lucky enough to like my job, but I don't love it. If I win the lottery tomorrow (which is unlikely since I never buy a ticket), I will quit my job immediately. RIGHT AWAY. I probably won't even go in to pick up my plants. Why bother? I'll just buy new ones. Actually, I'll have my personal assistant pick some up plants while she's out buying cheese and wine. But I digress.
The point is - I have things that I want to do. A lot of things. Like what, you ask? Learn something. Read. Organize my music. Speak another language. Wander downtown. Take pictures. Make art. Blog. Write a book. Travel. Melt wax. Go to thrift stores. Pet the dog & the cat. Write poetry. Stop human trafficking. Think of even more things to do. And these are just the things I can do by myself, I haven't even mentioned things that I could do with other people. I could spend time with the people that I love and that makes my heart happy. But somewhere in the background, tucked away under the noise of each day is the steady, relentless ticking of the clock. It's not that I'm afraid of getting old, or dying. I'm not terribly fond of either of these activities, but I can accept that this is the way of things. What really chaps my ass is that I wasted so much time not knowing who I was or what I wanted. So much precious time allowing people into my life who shouldn't have been given 5 minutes, let alone 5 years or 10 years. For a very long time, I let life happen to me because I did not understand how to take control.
This post probably makes it sound like I'm filled with regret, and I'm not afraid to admit that every once in a while there may be some regret. Followed by wallowing. Once I stop that nonsense though, what I really feel is an urgency. I want to tell everyone. The slack faces on the bus. The surly cashier just begging me to bitch slap her. My kids. Other peoples' kids. The sad old woman at the laundromat. I just can't stand that there are so many people in this world living lives dictated by fear. If I could, I'd tell the whole world to stop. (I'd also like to buy the world a coke & keep it company.) Think. Are you living a life that makes you happy? If not, what can you do to change that? Change is hard for people. It makes us uncomfortable, but it's the only way to grow.
While proofreading this, I realized that in paragraph 2, I implied that I could stop human trafficking all by myself. Mmmmm. Please add overly confident and unrealistic to my list of characteristics. If you're keeping a list, which I'm sure you're not because why would you? That would just be creepy. Or extremely flattering, depending on your perspective.