What's amazing to me in this rosy day and age is that you can be totally and completely overwhelmed with all you have to do from minute to minute and yet feel unaccomplished.
Where does this come from?
I mean, I am the first to admit that I have some ... ummm ... issues with perfectionism. And I have lofty goals and high expectations of myself. But even given this caveat, I think it's really hard to make all of these minutes we spend busy busy busy really add up to anything substantial or meaningful or lasting. Maybe that's just me.
My mother, the white witch (not kidding), explained to me that the feeling we all have that time seems to pass faster and faster as we get older is really linked to a universal phenomenon. The earth is spinning faster (or something), and we're losing something like an hour a year. I'm sure the Mayans compensated for this in their mathematical calendar, but as a modern person, I feel woefully inadequate in my ability to fold this loss neatly into my yearly activities. I just lose time.
And so days go by, and I don't have time to blog, or journal, or exercise, or make dinner, or get a new dog -- not to mention train a new dog even if I squeeze in getting a new dog -- or shop for birthdays or the holidays. Every minute seems accounted for.
Thankfully, the transition from place to place, deadline to deadline, is made much sweeter by the new automobile and the assured sense that I'm not wasting as much gasoline or oil as I was driving the truck. Merry sigh.
Other than that, though, I have to say that life at the moment ... blows.
I need new music. And a haircut. But really, who has the time?