Caught wasting my days trying to prolong them...

Oh, Time, you silly, fickle bitch. How I loathe you worship you talk to you crave you need you despair of you hope for more more more of you. Somehow, I've let you get the best of me once again. Somehow, the hourglass has been supercharged and I find myself nearly in March!

My excuse? I've been busy. Too busy. With work. With life. With all of it. And frankly, I've let 2010 pass me by too quickly without taking the time -- to breathe -- and really enjoy it. Bad girl. Even worse, I haven't blogged, posted, written, created here (or anywhere for that matter) in so very long. So that's not really an excuse -- it's a confession. And one that I'm not happy to have had to make.

So! With a fresh new (simpler) look, we charge forward. Back to it! With hope, happiness and vitality -- with really being here, being present each day for myself, and more importantly, my family. Vowing to live each moment from here on with a smile on my face. To not let useless things like traffic getting to work and to Grif and to life frustrate me. To not let my exhaustion from work get in the way of enjoying playtime with him (he's getting so big, so tall), or "us" time with my pilot. To living each moment better, purer, clearer. Getting back to the real me that this odd winter has somehow sapped a wee bit, and left me feeling slightly out of sorts, melancholy and a bit lost -- not enough to really notice sometimes, but nevertheless diminished slightly. Perhaps that's what made losing (ignoring) these past two months so easy...and why March has crept up on me.

I feel like I often write in circles, coming back to the same message over and over -- but by god somewhere in this repetition the universe will hear me -- I will hear me! -- and hopefully conquer crazy days instead of letting them conquer me.

So -- we're off! Or, back, as it were. And to start this new start, I dedicate this one to Jack London. My parents went to Australia over 10 years ago. And for some reason, they took this picture for me. Ok, maybe not for me, but it was mine from the first time I laid eyes on it. And I've posted it prominently wherever I've worked...it's the quote I leave on most cards, the prose I recite aloud when the occasion warrants, the graffiti I use when given the chance. It's my mantra, and one that this entire blog stems from and revolves around. Hell, it's what I try to revolve my life around. And it's been too long absent in its entirety from this blog (and my life -- are ya getting the message?). To drive it home, in case you can't quite read the quote, I'll leave it here below as well. It's worth the time to read -- and feel -- and believe -- and take with you -- and live.

I'd rather be ashes than dust,
a spark burnt out in a brilliant blaze,
than to be stifled in dry rot.
For man's chief purpose is to live, not to exist.
I shall not waste my days trying to prolong them.
I shall use my time.

Eighteen Minutes

I have 18 minutes before I have to leave to pick up the boy from daycare...oops, now 17. And instead of reading other people's blogs, or wasting time, or wasting ANYthing more, I am challenging myself to use this time. Use it, thank you, Jack London.

Blogging is difficult for me. I fear I want all my posts to have soooo much meaning. To be masterpieces. To carry a message. To affect another soul, move someone, make a difference. I start getting ideas about things I should blog about -- the woman I saw today with a young girl (Does she have a chance? Mom was on the phone, smoking a cigarette, wee girl was flitting around her like a lost satellite -- too scared to take that final step away, too young to do it alone, too fragile to be ignored. Hmmm...perhaps that's a post for another day.) -- the talks I had with two of my friends today, encouraging them separately to breathe, follow their dreams and do something daring, scary and different -- the delight of fall and the possibility of change and hope for what the future brings -- the fabulous ice cream that I had to celebrate the afternoon -- the Elizabeth Gilbert talk I listened to on the Painted Path....

It's crazy all the "blog" thoughts I've had since I officially began my life as (not just another) blogger. Down to 11 minutes now....as a writer, I've always felt the pressure of "a writer writes every day." I want to be a better writer. I am a writer. A published writer (ah the days of book reviews!). An accomplished and not quite prolific writer (but I'm working on that). Writing for my job is very different than this creative, organic work that I'm putting down here in print. And one that I think I've let narrow my creative thinking as opposed to expand it...writing copy for a client or his or her website or ad...well, let's just say it's not what I want to do forever. Writing like that (copywriting, that is) demands that you write with your head first, and just like in the movie Finding Forrester, I believe more in writing "your first draft with your heart..the first key to writing is... to write, not to think!" And I think that's the problem -- too much thinking, not enough real writing.

And so with one minute left, I won't reread, I won't re-edit, I won't rethink. I'll just write. And be proud that I did.

Time, more time!

Now more than ever, I feel the pressure of time. If only I had one more day to...if only I had time to...if only I had a few more hours so I could just...it's annoying and slightly anxiety-inducing to feel myself so pressured by time. This blog is the perfect example of this -- I should have started it long (long) ago, and I know I kept just thinking that "tomorrow" would always come, and of course, be the better day to start....

I wish I had more time with my son, Griffin. I wish I had more time with my husband, Jim. More time to workout, more time to read, more time to be one of those (enviable) people who sits at the Coffee Emporium (or Starbucks or fill-in-your-cozy-cool-coffee-hangout-of-choice) and appears to be loftily creating masterpieces on their laptops. More time to put songs on my ipod. To get the boy's 1st year baby book together. To write thank you notes. To say thanks.

I wish I had more time to write. To tell  the important people in my life that they are, in fact, important in my life. More time for church. More time for me. Moremoremoremore. Funny how selfish that seems when it's put down in black and white.

Perhaps the lesson is the question of  "what is time? It's not like it means anything" (oh yes, for you nearly-forty-somethings, if you dig deep, you may remember this line from Some Kind of Wonderful. I think. Time gets away from me, so I don't have time to check just now...). I don't wear a watch. I try to celebrate the time I am in now. To use my time. Funny, that could be the entire theme of this blog, and oddly enough, in my rush to get this out -- no time, no time! -- I somehow missed that. Sigh.

What else am I missing? This time, perhaps I'll take a minute to find out. To breathe. To relax -- and yes, revel -- in the time right now, and nothing more. Cuz this life is beautiful. And right now, if nothing else, I'm taking the time to say thanks for that. And although you didn't know it, couldn't see it (but could you feel it?), I took the time just now -- a quiet minute, a thought-provoking silence -- to just smile. And be happy. In this time.