Where does the time go? At the beginning of the day (week, month, year), it seems like a huge void to put to use any way I please. At the end of the period, I turn around and see no progress. Why can’t I fill time in the way I want?
The problem is time’s limited. When I was young, I saw no end. It stretched limitless in front of me. I knew I always could make that trip to Paris sometime, if not this year. Now, from this end of the life span, time has no beginning but many endings.
There are things I should do with my time. My blog, for instance. When my first novel was published, the entire world told me I had to create a blog. Further advice from experts added the blog should appear at least twice a week and have at least two links to other websites in it. This is proving to be impossible as winter colds, summer vacations, reruns of HIMYM, playing with grandson, depression, house cleaning, going to the gym, naps, balancing the checkbook, in short anything else, takes precedence.
What time I do have, I spend most of it reading emails or trying to sleep. Guilt induces me to compensate by making lists of responsibilities or desires to work on eventually. The effect time has on my lists is zero. To wit:
My to-do lists don’t differ much now from when I was 18. Then they included:
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Write
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Study French
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Lose 15 pounds
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Exercise
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Clean and organize closet
Now they include the same main topics but have increased in complexity:
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Write
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Lose weight (o 5 pounds, o 10 pounds, o 15 pounds, o 20 pounds, o 25 pounds)
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Study (o French, o Music self-taught on recorder, o Stimulating mind games)
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Exercise (o Stretches, o Dance, o Jogging, o Bike)
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Clean and organize (o Papers, o Photos, o Old magazines)