Time, Time, Time (Look What It’s Done to Me)
I am a victim of brain drain this week. I started a new job and even my subconscious has been busy catching up. I dreamed I was sorting words into piles, and editing with an oversized red pen.
Underused synapses were awakened in the midst of the expected “new girl” confusion. I relished researching and writing under deadline on skin disorders, my first assigned writing topic (not everybody’s dream job, I know). My last job, writing much drier documents for the FDA, seemed to help me pare down my words. I hope this new gig will transfer my love for research into my creative life, too. Research reminds me of getting into a pool. It feels cold, and you are not really sure you want to go in. But then you get into it, and are so glad to be immersed.
What a dweeb! Likening research to a swimming pool, getting excited when a new journal supplement comes via FedEx. Oh well. This is who I am.
The major perk of this new job is the reduced commute. I was driving almost 30 miles one way, and now it is 3. What a joy! On top of that the work day starts later. More time in the morning and right away I want to fill it. It is burning a hole in my pocket, like the Nordstrom’s gift certificate I got for Christmas.
My new coworker grunted, “Oh yeah, I gained more time too but now I just sleep later and later”. Maybe I am doomed to do the same, but right now I am still excited about my “found hour”. There is the New Year’s resolution to get fit, and maybe I can finally stay ahead of that mountain of clutter.
But wait—would it be so bad to enjoy more relaxed mornings, without any new accomplishments? I struggle with this. Time is such a hot commodity, and mornings are my high energy time, so what a waste not to squeeze more in! As I write this I hear my self-imposed pressure, a sense of urgency I would rather not admit.
Maybe I can compromise. Something like Monday and Friday mornings I soak up the extra time, Tuesday and Thursdays I exercise, Wednesdays (since they are my least favorite day anyway) can be reserved for household drudgery. I still hear some strain in this, and feel sad that even my new time must be meted out, put on a ration program.
I don’t have to decide today. It is Saturday, and a trip to the Niantic Book Barn is in store. The Barn’s old buildings groan and lean with the weight of their dusty literature. There are free cookies for Gavin, and I can sell the books I have used up (only to acquire more. Do I sense a pattern here?). Life is good.
Underused synapses were awakened in the midst of the expected “new girl” confusion. I relished researching and writing under deadline on skin disorders, my first assigned writing topic (not everybody’s dream job, I know). My last job, writing much drier documents for the FDA, seemed to help me pare down my words. I hope this new gig will transfer my love for research into my creative life, too. Research reminds me of getting into a pool. It feels cold, and you are not really sure you want to go in. But then you get into it, and are so glad to be immersed.
What a dweeb! Likening research to a swimming pool, getting excited when a new journal supplement comes via FedEx. Oh well. This is who I am.
The major perk of this new job is the reduced commute. I was driving almost 30 miles one way, and now it is 3. What a joy! On top of that the work day starts later. More time in the morning and right away I want to fill it. It is burning a hole in my pocket, like the Nordstrom’s gift certificate I got for Christmas.
My new coworker grunted, “Oh yeah, I gained more time too but now I just sleep later and later”. Maybe I am doomed to do the same, but right now I am still excited about my “found hour”. There is the New Year’s resolution to get fit, and maybe I can finally stay ahead of that mountain of clutter.
But wait—would it be so bad to enjoy more relaxed mornings, without any new accomplishments? I struggle with this. Time is such a hot commodity, and mornings are my high energy time, so what a waste not to squeeze more in! As I write this I hear my self-imposed pressure, a sense of urgency I would rather not admit.
Maybe I can compromise. Something like Monday and Friday mornings I soak up the extra time, Tuesday and Thursdays I exercise, Wednesdays (since they are my least favorite day anyway) can be reserved for household drudgery. I still hear some strain in this, and feel sad that even my new time must be meted out, put on a ration program.
I don’t have to decide today. It is Saturday, and a trip to the Niantic Book Barn is in store. The Barn’s old buildings groan and lean with the weight of their dusty literature. There are free cookies for Gavin, and I can sell the books I have used up (only to acquire more. Do I sense a pattern here?). Life is good.
posted by Katherine H | 2:17 AM
1 Comments:
kathy
finally catching up on your blogs. congrats on the job! this sounds really excellent. are you familiar with the artist's way (a book and course by julia cameron)? it would be very helpful for you in this stage - insofar as you've suddenly found yourself with a weency bit more time and there are all these forces pulling and pushing you. creativity never was inspired by guilt. keep us all posted on how your new found hour goes. and the research opportunities at work - WOW - that's great skill building (and interesting, too).
bravo!
Katey
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