Eventually the things you own begin to own you.
I have far too many things in my life. I have too many obligations, too many items that require maintenance, too many expenses, too many dreams, ideas, and plans. All these things pile up and take away the one precious resource that I do not have an excess of: time.
Time slips away at a rapid rate and there is nothing in this world that can stop its inexorable tic-tock into oblivion. I am over 30 now and feel like I am on the top of the bell-curve of life, and rapidly reaching the drop-off point. I have this obsession with clearing away the dross and opening up a pathway towards a clean zen-like existence. I want to maximize the good parts of my life and minimize the machine-like drudgery in my day-to-day existence.
Today I went on a day-hike on the Morrison Run Trail, here in the Allegheny National Forest, and it was truly glorious to get out and spend time in the woods. That is what I want to do more of. I want to spend more time experiencing life, not spending my days scrabbling around trying to fix and repair the meaningless material things.
I spend most of my days doing just that. Fixing this or that, or just keeping my head down and trying to get through. I am better than that, and want to keep my head about the proverbial waters, and keep heading towards a better existence.
I fail to capture the nuances of thought on paper.
My brain is constantly zipping and zapping back and forth bits and bites of great ideas, if only I could capture some of it here on paper! These thoughts are as tiny whips, they buzz by my ears faster than I can capture them, and almost always they come when I am in no way able to write them down.
I am reminded of a bit from the great ‘Terry Pratchett’ who said that the really great ideas just come down from the sky like great cosmic rays and implant ideas into our heads. That an idea just seems to strike us because it does. These ‘Idea Rays’ are where we get inspiration.
I feel like that when I am out working and something wonderful and new, brilliant in its simplicity falls down from the sky and finds me. Then as soon as it has arrived, it is gone once again.
There exists a small displaced band of hippies who have escaped the turn of time, and are still happily weed-smokingly living out their days in this small town. They are resolutely happy in their ignorance that it is no-longer 1968, and that there is no danger of the draft.
I encountered this little band of flower-children while working. Although I was there to fix the reception of their cable TV, I doubt that any of them even noticed that I was there. There were four of them, all sprawled on the faded couch, like dead flies stuck to the rim of a glass, no one moved at my approach. The air was thick with the sickly sweet scent of weed, and the TV was mostly snow, only the outlines of figures moved on the old RCA Floor Console. I had come to make the snow go away, and so that is what I did.
I repaired a bad connection, and this solved the problem. I worked silently because I couldn’t think of anything to say, and the stoned bodies on the sofa didn’t bother to interact with me in the least. I felt as though I had stepped into and then back out of a small time distortion. There had been nothing in the room to indicate that I was in any other decade than the 1960s, everything there would have been at home in that decade, nothing betrayed that this was indeed a new century, and the 60s a distant memory.
When I took my leave (Of the only person in the house who was lucid) I glanced back once toward the room, and shrugged at the oddity of what I had just seen.
Oh-well, only one more day in the life of a cable-guy.
Ever wonder why we have a symbol for the word ‘and’, but not for the word: ‘the’ ?
‘The’ is used more than ‘and’, so why no shortcut for that word? I think one of the reasons, may be because that lots of words start with ‘the’ and few with ‘and’. It would be a little awkward to start a sentence with a symbol.
just a thought.
Now in the midst of dreary winter, while the hills wear their white mantles, I sense a withering of will, and a drying up of muscle. When buds burst into leaves, I also break out in motion, powering against the rusted pedals, to rush down that path of leaves; rustling. .
Wintry winds tear at my coat, seek to reach my guarded soul, And follow me into my bungalow to snuff out my little flame. When Summer, oh summer, comes, I shall ride the streets of sun, catch the warm rays upon my back, spreading a glow through my winter shrunken frame.
Several years ago, I purchased a yellow Lamy Safari with an EF nib. I used it constantly, and carried it with me just about everywhere. I would fill out my paperwork at work with it, and use it on my Moleskine.
In any case, it went missing last spring, and I had to switch to another daily pen. I missed it, but kept hoping to find it, and so I never replaced it..
Fast forward to last week: I was cleaning out my closet and found a sweatshirt that I hadn’t worn in a while, so I decided to wear it that day. I had it on when I suddenly thought about my missing pen, and decided to order a replacement. I went on Jetpens, and ordered a white Lamy to replace my lost yellow one.
Didn’t think a thing about it until that evening when I went to take the shirt off, and guess what I found in the pocket? My missing yellow pen.
I have been wondering since: if my subconscious was trying to tell me that my pen was in that sweatshirt, and I misunderstood and just took it as a chance to replace it? I mean somewhere deep in my brain I must have known that I left the pen in the pocket, and so that bubbled up into my consciousness somehow….
In any case, I decided to not cancel the order since I really will lose the pen again at some point, and the white looks so good on my iPad after all……..