Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Time, time, time, see what's become of me...

Time’s stock has increased, and it’s not just the extra half hour’s work at the end of the day or the extra 2 hours commute out of each 24 pushing up the price.

The time I now have to myself each week is far more valuable, and not necessarily in a good way as I think this has all come about by way of an attitude shift.

I’ve a feeling I’m starting to think that my time is precious which, in itself, isn’t particularly a bad thing. All time in essence is precious, and its singular nature makes sure of that for like a flawless clear diamond is worth more than it’s cracked yellowing cousins because of its rarity, every second of every day is as unique as a snowflake. Once it’s happened it can never be changed or repeated, which, as a digression, makes it at the same time completely valueless.

So, as I stand, second after second, cramped in the corner of a tube door-well, the subject of slight olfactory abuse thanks to my elderly neighbour, I find myself feeling a little irritated.

As I’ve learnt before no time can be wasted if the subject can embrace the activity within, it’s just that my long meta-physical arms are flinching slightly at the prospect of grasping these moments to my meta-physical bosom (yes, it is a bosom).

What has happened then within me to cause embracorial hesitation?

I think I’ve lost some sense of my time being my own, more parts of the day feel enforced.

The 6:30 start, if I have the good grace to have a bath, is caused by leaving the house at 7:20 to make my train at 7:35, to get the tube at 7:53, to be at work for 8:30, to sit until 6pm tapping at a keyboard to make someone else money, from where I troll home to grab 3 or 4 hours for myself.

Day’s like this have created a bitter belligerence to tar those sweet evening hours, and all I manage to do is buttock-cling angrily to the sofa and waste my brain away with a regular dose of jungle bound celebrities. This torpor is state I don’t even seem to enjoy; more feel an insistence to participate in as a “deserved” respite from the hardship of the working day.

I think the time has come to reclaim my evenings and switch off the television set and do something less boring instead (thank you the 80’s).

Yes, starting tonight, evenings are a time of action, of dynamics and of happy ownership.

Thanks right my friends, tonight I grab 7 until 10 by the scruff of it’s neck and shake it all the way to the supermarket, because let’s be honest, what’s “I’m a celeb” without a post prandial bit of cake?

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