It amazes me how I can lose track of time. I'm sitting her and looking at my Walking Dead calendar and wondering where the first third of September went. I'm also wondering what I would do without my husband who is the only one in the house who remembers to flip the calender to the current month. If it were left up to me it would probably be on February because that's when I bought it.
My friend Judy describes my ability to be completely unaware of the clock as the Kilbert time warp. Kilbert was my maiden name and it's much more of a rarity than Reynolds, and so probably more fitting because she swears I am the only one who has the mysterious powers of time manipulation.
When caught in the net of the Kilbert time warp I say things like "it's getting really late, so I'll let you go. By the way have you ever read The Giver?" From there the conversation will flit to our favorite childhood books (A Wrinkle in Time), then a discussion of the current movie version that is out and have you seen it yet? (No). From there it is a free-for-all of topics like movies I love that star Jeff Bridges (The Fisher King, The Fabulous Baker Boys), the sadness of Robin Williams passing (R.I.P.), the career trajectory of Michelle Pfeiffer (Why isn't she in more films? I love her), and Jodie Foster (she is awesome and I would like her to play me in the movie of my life even if it makes no sense because she is older than I am). It will be peppered with impersonations ("Tay-yay inna win") broad proclamations (I will never watch What Dreams May Come Again), secrets (my DVD copy of that movie sitting on my dresser because I need to see it right now) and protestations (no, no, that's sweet of you to say but I look nothing like her *blushes*). Three hours later I say "Wow, I'm so sorry. I had no idea how late it was, what I really called to ask you about was..." and then we're off for at least another forty minutes of conversation.
It's worse in person. Truly. I get so intensely focused on the task at hand that I can't seem to stop. I'm always barely on time if it relates to my job or something really important, or a few minutes late because I am sure that I can hit the snooze ten to fifteen times and still get up and get dressed in the same way I would if I had an hour.
When I talk about hitting the snooze alarm I mean it. I will set an alarm for 7:30 A.M. and sleep in nine minute increments until noon without batting an eyelash. It's weird, it drives everyone but me crazy, but it is all part of the Kilbert space time continuum.
I also can never leave anywhere on time. My coworkers fly out the door at the stroke of 4:00 but I clock out between 4:06 and 4:09 every day. I just miserable at getting things done in a set fragment of time. I'm a procrastinator and a day dreamer with no feel for minutes, hours, seconds or days.
In grad school my boss and mentor Ruth used to say I had issues with time management that were caused by my issues of being a perfectionist, and also a complete lack of focus that was totally at odds with my detail driven, obsessive nature. She had a whole closet of natural remedies she wanted me to take to try and give me a sleeping schedule and awareness of what I could accomplish, but the time warp won out. I was a lost cause after four years of of never turning an assignment in on time because of the extra fifteen pages of work I made for myself in the process. She loved me but I tried her patience.
The only time of year I can really feel the time passing is in the early to mid days of September. Time is different for a little while. I've always just had a birthday so there's the sense of getting another year older and worrying over the self-assessment that inevitably accompanies it. There's a lot of bad days in my life that have happened in September. It seems to be a time of missed opportunities and failed promises. I get down and sad thinking about how old my child would be by now and look at the fifth grade children of my friends with a little wistfulness and a lot of envy. No matter how happy I am with my life these days are always touched with melancholy and could have beens. The could have beens always fuck with me. I wish I was a person who didn't listen to their rumblings but I get a little mired in the September blues.
I don't expect it will ever change but I wish my time warp worked for me and I could distract myself a little better. "Hey babe, I'm sorry you're blue but aren't you glad that you're finally out of retail? Your husband is crazy for you and your friends worry too much about you to let you feel this way so let's bake! Want to see if the dog can Macarena?" I joke of course. My dog is a horrible dancer.
If I could really bend time, I'd skip this week every year. At the very least I'd make it pass quicker.
I can't wait for the day I lose track of the sadness and trap it in it's own conversation. It can worry itself to death and I'd be the happier for it. Ennui does not become me.
Ask me a question. Drop me a line. Give me some help to pass this wicked time.