Time Keeps on Slippin' Into the Future
Time is a weird thing. Is it wibbly wobbly? Is it everything all at once? Is it stacked on top of itself? If perception is reality, it certainly can't be linear. I experience time more like a wavelength—a back and forth exchange of fast and slow, but without regularity or balance. It zips and drags and zips and zips and zips and drags and zips and drags and drags. It can be pretty hard to stay focused on my goals.
I realized suddenly the other day that I haven't done much writing in a couple weeks. I'd gone from writing nearly every day, which I was extremely proud of, to basically not at all in weeks. It wasn't that I hadn't wanted to write. It was just always something I'd push off for later, but later was always later.
I am a professional procrastinator. Sometimes I rush to create something, pouring myself into it, only to procrastinate the few final steps. Sometimes I'll wait to start something until just before it should be done, and I'll throw it together in a mad dash, full of panic and angst. It usually still turns out alright. Never my best, but just fine. I think that's part of the problem: I know that I can. But I think my sense of time is the bigger part. There's always either too much time or not enough. Both states seem to paralyze me.
So as time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin' into the fuuuutuuure... I have to keep recalibrating the wavelength, adjusting for life's changes without losing sight of what's most important.