The Power of Time

While making my regular FB tour tonight, I was struck by a famous Buddha quote which read: “The trouble is, you think you have time.” I sat there contemplating the sentence for what seemed forever, and then I realized I better stop staring and move on to something else before time with its mighty wings dares steal even more precious moments while I keep going unaware of its effects and its boldness.  

The concept of time has been consuming me for 3 days now, and I feel the need to virtually arrange my thoughts on paper in hope of settling an already busy mind. It all started when I discovered a white hair in my eyebrow while fixing my makeup in the car. I froze for an eternity before I started the engine and went straight to my beautician to pluck it out.

I had never been aware of how scary it would be for me to start the aging process. Sure I have always joked about it, but not once - I am now aware - have I truly gave it a sincere thought. Somehow I had never believed that I would ever grow old, or older. I had always had the sense that one way or another, my life would be over by the time I was thirty. And with thirty so close now, a lot downed on me in a single moment.

The sense of being underachieved could be tragically thrown out of proportion when you spot your first white hair. The feeling that you have done way too little in contrast with your potential sets in, and a whole lot of drama starts buzzing in your head, robbing you a bit more of what little sanity you were still trying to maintain.  

I sit here thinking of whys and what ifs. I sit with remorse, with regrets. I feel threatened by missed opportunities and lack of effort. And as one thought gets chained to the other, I start seeing lack of ambition, lack of spirit and serious lack of motivation in my past, and sadly, in my present as well. Melancholic dilemmas start clouding me and a morose state takes over my being. Have I ever really tried achieving a goal or fulfilling a dream? Have I ever given anything my all? Have I ever compromised enough or have I ever, to the contrary, refused to compromise? Have I been passionate, in the true sense of the word, about something in my life so far? The answer saddens me even more, it empties me of any sympathy I still had for myself. Had I ever been sincerely passionate and truly determined, I wouldn’t be lamenting myself now.

Tonight I pray for the ability to use the fleeting gift of time more wisely. I pray for greater determination and second chances. I pray for patience and opportunity. I pray for knowledge and feasibility. I pray for inspiration and enthusiasm. For hope and faith. For strength and drive. For passion, most of all, because love is nothing without it, and what a shame it would be to waste love.

Tonight I strive to read more and procrastinate less. I strive to do more and talk less. To produce more while nagging less. To appreciate what I already have. To cherish what I have already achieved. To be thankful for the people already surrounding me. For without gratefulness to what I am lucky to have now, I don’t deserve what I may accomplish in the future and will never know how to enjoy it.    

Alternative Curriculum

I am sitting here, unaware of how I got here, of why I chose to be here in the first place. As I try to make my recollection, I realize that I decided to come here, I even inquired on how to get here, and drove in a daze with only one purpose in mind: being here.

I have only been here once before, and considering my poor driving skills, it is far. I believe the memory of the vibe this place had given me the first time around brought me back. It gave me the sense that this is the kind of place in which I need to be in order to clear my head, to refresh my crowded thoughts, and to try and simply, relax.

None of the above has been achieved though, and for a very simple reason: I realized thoughts cannot be organized, feelings cannot be disciplined, and the myth of the brain and the heart getting along has been deemed as such for the right reasons. As for the relaxation part, I feel even tenser than when I arrived.  

All the students surrounding me with heads buried in their books made me think back to my school days, and more precisely, to my school books. I sit here wondering what most have spent a good part of their time wondering. When will we ever use these useless equations throughout our miserable life? Why would it help to know the name of that body part and that one’s function? How is memorizing stupid outdated poems going to help with life’s entangled problems?

Tonight, here, I would like to take a shot at creating an alternative curriculum; one that I believe would help much more with life’s path, at least in the way life seems to me, here, tonight.

I propose a class that would make math look so last century, and I would like to call it “how to lower your expectations”. Take that algebra.

And how about replacing science with “the metaphysics of luck”, “the alchemy of hormones and how to control your stupid impulses” and “beauty and the beast”?

Instead of literature, I would go for “the art of winning an argument”.

Philosophy shall become “the reality of evasiveness”, and civism will go by “the one on one book for etiquette and mutual respect dummies”.

As for geography’s substitute, a special course on “how and where to cultivate the fruit of your decisions” will be conducted by the master of your being, Mr. Ego in all its splendor.

History is so easy to replace, it will become, with the blessing of – for once – both your head and your heart, “guidelines and techniques on erasing the past”.

Regarding activities, a twice a week constructive lesson will be given on “ways to tell a lie from a truth and other practical advice”.

Have I forgotten anything? Maybe. You wish to tell me to shove my curriculum and get over it? Most probably. Do I even care? Of course note. Has this helped me move on with my night? A definite no. Why have I written all of the above? Not so sure.

The lesson: None.

The teacher: An idiot who will never learn by himself.

The one to blame: A system that has probably taught me everything but from which I have learned nothing, and yet, it is still the one to take the blame.

The objective: Filling the blanks in life with elusive meager literature.

The result: Time killed, the acquisition of an illusively mended heart and of course, continuum boredom and loneliness. 

The All Smiles Chapter

As usual, I have nothing in particular to talk about. This is mainly because I have so much energy right now and I am terribly unsure of what to do with it; I figured maybe the urge would leave me once I typed, and typed, and typed. I shall update you at the end of this post.

Till then, let us yap a bit.

What a fabulous month it has been! The only month I could link this one to would probably be February 2009. A lot, and I mean a lot has changed since then; but the vibe this December is generating reminds me of 09, of that particular month. I think what I am feeling is called happiness. I don’t believe I have ever been able to fully grasp that feeling, but February 09 and December 2012 may be the closest I have come to experience it on any scale.

I can’t even begin to describe what tremendous warmth it gives me to be surrounded by my friends. Life tends to separate us often, to send us each to a different corner of the world in pursuit of a future so hazy that it makes us sometimes wonder, what are we really after? But then comes the rare reunion, the ever so far apart get-togethers, and something suddenly makes sense, even if it is just for a fleeting moment. Maybe what we so harshly deem as unfair is deep down the only thing that will ever make sense.

Maybe I am being too optimistic - I know I am being a lot more optimistic than usual at any rate – but maybe I am simply being realistic – which I rarely am. Too philosophical? perhaps. In any case, I am having a rare moment of clarity, the kind of moment one wishes would never go away, would be forever encrusted in one’s psyche. It has something to do with understanding why one shouldn’t party every night or else it wouldn’t make one merrier every time. It has something to do with swallowing the fact that we only get paid once every month. It perfectly explains why I can’t listen to music every day, why I can’t watch a movie every night, why I am ever so rarely happy – or close to experiencing the feeling. It is about the wait, about the anticipation, and about the downsizing of expectations before becoming completely apt and totally ready to savor a moment.

I have come to realize that I cannot enjoy anything unless I had previously been deprived of it one way or another. One way or another… that is a song, one of many that need to be enjoyed every now and then.  Enough with parentheses though. One of the many things pacing my little brain tonight is how to apply my oh-so-deep theories to my actual life. Abstract relationships aside, I suck at applying any of the above. I am the champion of failure when it comes to depriving myself of dinner once every 12 months, let alone depriving myself of a cigarette or a drink even.

When does one reach some level of perfection, or equilibrium to be more down to earth? The word I am looking for here might be harmony. It feels as if I will never get anywhere unless I achieve harmony, one way or another. That is a song by the way, or did I mention that already?

I could be wrong though, I keep contradicting myself tonight. Because if I were to be correct with all of the above yapping, it can only mean one thing and one thing only: I have been preaching nothing but crap for the past 26 years.

And what if I was? And who really cares? And who cares about the new theory? Not me that is for sure. I am just writing for the sake of typing, of releasing mixed energies.

Will I ever look back at this article and wonder? Will you? Perhaps yes. Probably not.

Part of me feels like wrapping this up, getting dressed, joining the party, getting filthy drunk and losing my job tomorrow. The other part feels like…Well let us just say I still have a rational part left in my silly little brain. I am not sure which part I hate the most and which I hold the dearest to my heart. And since we are at it, what I despise above all is the fact that one part always wins and the balance is never achieved.

Is it obvious how happy I was when I started this and how miserable I became afterwards? It wasn’t intentional. It was influential. Call me nuts but I think I just managed to absorb some of a pretty boy’s melancholic vibes. Maybe I am hoping he will reciprocate one day, some day, under the stars of a silky raining sky, overlooking the lights of an ever so luring city, when the wait is over, when the anticipation has reached its peak, and when the expectations have simply ceased to exist.

A Slave of Complaint

It has been an ultra redefining week on so many levels. Well I haven’t exactly discovered anything I wasn’t previously aware of, but everything that had been happening with me or around me has reconfirmed some old theories and feelings.

I am a slave of my routine. Anything that interferes with my daily habits one way or another automatically tends to go on a blacklist that ranges between dislike, discomfort and disassociation altogether.

For those of you who don’t know me in person, here is a concise summary: I am your basic heavy smoker/insomniac with no car. That being said, it is quite understandable how a 24/7 coffee shop near home with an indoor smoking section can work perfectly well for me.

I have been almost living in the same spot for the past 10 years or so. The coffee shop itself changed, the people changed, the cab drivers even changed, but I am still the same. I come here religiously, every night, for the same experience, the same enjoyments, with the odd twist here and there of course.

So could somebody please tell me why am I having to undergo a relatively massive change in the space of less than a week? It simply isn’t conceivable in my mind; having to go from devotedly smoking indoors 24/7 to shamefully smoking outdoors 21/7 is just NOT fair!!!! Not to mention that I have lost the place as a depot as well! I know an explanation is due now and it goes – or used to go to be more precise – like this: The fact that I have no car and that I feel lost without my huge laptop makes me carry it with me wherever I go, and since on some rare occasions I actually have plans elsewhere, but must – and I mean MUST! – come to the coffee shop before AND after the night out, I would usually keep the laptop with the staff for the duration of my plans, and then come back, retrieve it, use it and go home with it. Now what do you suggest I do with my humongous laptop when I need to go out?? And how am I to use it before leaving and dispose of it then? And why oh why don’t I get the chance to use after all my boring plans anymore??

Rant, rant, ranting I do best! I know. But in this case, I have earned the right to do it, haven’t I? I mean come on, after all those years, you chose this week of all weeks to start closing at 3:00 a.m.? What does it even denote to close for 3 meager hours when you need an hour to close down and another to open up? Isn’t it enough that I now have to sweat in the heat and shiver in the cold just because I have been dubbed as an uncivilized smoker? I ask you, isn’t that a sufficiently undeserved and uncalled for punishment?

On another note, I may have become slightly superstitious this week as well. It all started when I caught the bouquet my friend threw on her first wedding anniversary. Does catching the bouquet really mean I am going to meet someone and be the next to walk the isle? And what exactly could it mean that I caught it one year too late?

On yet another note, there has been a lot of dreaming going on. Between the dreams of my relatives, those of my friends and my own, I have been stealing cars, secretly buying cars, and attending some very fishy gatherings. I have also been misplacing my clothes and walking on red sand.

Now link the dreams to the rotting flowers, deprive me of smoking altogether, send me to bed at midnight, and drive me off tomorrow to the nut house in a stolen green Renault. How about that?