Thursday, June 13, 2013

Secret camp

Hiking Memorial Day weekend
How do you keep yourself from being busy? Say no to everything?

I don't feel like I have enough time. I want more of it, unscheduled. I want to feel like a tiny speck adrift in its vastness. I want its borders so distant they seem nonexistent. I want to drop a pebble into it and never hear it hit bottom. I want it to scare me a little. A Grand Canyon of free time. That's what I want.

I used to wish away time. "When I do this, when this happens, then I'll finally be myself." I visit my old neighborhood, and worry I might run into that girl haunting the food co-op or my old wooded running trail. I'd walk right up to her and flick her in the forehead. You were never nothin' but yourself, kiddo.

I'm likely not busy by anyone else's standards, yet I still feel too committed. I don't work long hours, I have a short commute. My evening commitments are voluntary. And the only person I have to bathe and put to bed is myself. But I miss being bored.

The other week I was getting tossed around by the low down dirty Sunday night sads. They were whipping me around like one of those tube-shaped inflatable men they have at car dealerships. My floppity tube arms were ribboning out over the interstate while I impotently bowed and bowed and bowed.

Nick tasks himself with cheering me out of such moods even though when he's feeling down I'm like "hmm maybe you're dehydrated? Maybe drink some water?" So he built a fire and pitched the tent and we had a little campout in the yard, something we haven't done since I wrote this almost 2 years ago. It perked me right up. I am so happy we are able to do this in our yard, a function of a rare fenced city backyard and our reasonably safe neighborhood.

Oh, don't get me wrong, once in the tent I cried hot pathetic tears about how life is passing by too quickly and there's no TIME and how remember how we used to lay around in bed literally all day and eat in bed and read books and pick at the guitar and do other things. That was some blissful John and Yoko shit, though at the time I was like "oh god oh no we have literally done nothing today, we haven't seen daylight oh this is so bad".

The next morning the sun lit up our tent and I was on my feet heading inside within seconds of opening my eyes. That never happens in our tomblike bedroom, on our soft dark bed. We stayed up late bullshitting but I felt fresh. Like I'd stolen time and gotten away with it.

3 comments:

  1. I love your blog.

    I'm trying really hard to control time. List it and name it and allot it and hold on to it, despite knowing that this won't cure my temporal angst.

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  2. We try to schedule at least one day that there isn't anything, including chores. It's necessary to have those fuck-off moments. I love the camping. (and laughed about the cheering vs. the hydration...nothing I've ever done.) -Jo

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  3. So much yes to flicking my past self right on the damn forehead. I've been mostly wishing for this month to come for about 5 years and now I'm like... eff (so eloquent, I know).

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