Too much time
That is what I fear. I have all the time in the world and yet, have nothing to do. Have always been puzzled when people complain "No time to do anything". May be I have all their missing time.
With so much time to flounder I become paranoid. Surely, I waste this precious gift of life. What should I do ? That is the question that haunts me day and night. In the morning, when I wake up I think about the day that lies ahead. It seems so capacious like a walk-in closet full of empty hangars waiting for the missing shirts. And I seem to have no answers that can fill up the empty void that stretches between sleep.
I read. I cook. I watch TV. And yet even when doing those activities I fear their end for the inevitable question looms ahead -- what next? My world is thrown into disorder during the five minute break that all television programs seem to take every half hour. There are only commercials filmed. What do I do in those five minutes ? It is against my principles to watch the ads, so I am stuck desperately surfing channels, hoping to catch the tail end of some episode.
Every activity is finite in its ability to entertain. Or may be I should rephrase that. I am limited in my capacity to be entertained. A chronic disorder that has haunted me through the years. My mother, she probably best understands this ailment I suffer from. Only her wistful sighs echo from overseas, asking me "are you bored again ?".
As a child I had the right to cry and throw tantrums, to show my dissatisfaction with the way the world was run. My only article to be published in a national daily was about loneliness. And this was at the age 17. Today, as an adult, I still struggle to come to terms with the insatiability of my mind. And so I try to tire myself physically, by running or swimming. Anything to expend this energy that threatens to devour my peace of mind.
I am reminded of the tale where the devil was kept busy by the task of trying to straighten a dog's tail. May be someday I too will find a dog whose tail needs straightening. And then I shall have less time.
With so much time to flounder I become paranoid. Surely, I waste this precious gift of life. What should I do ? That is the question that haunts me day and night. In the morning, when I wake up I think about the day that lies ahead. It seems so capacious like a walk-in closet full of empty hangars waiting for the missing shirts. And I seem to have no answers that can fill up the empty void that stretches between sleep.
I read. I cook. I watch TV. And yet even when doing those activities I fear their end for the inevitable question looms ahead -- what next? My world is thrown into disorder during the five minute break that all television programs seem to take every half hour. There are only commercials filmed. What do I do in those five minutes ? It is against my principles to watch the ads, so I am stuck desperately surfing channels, hoping to catch the tail end of some episode.
Every activity is finite in its ability to entertain. Or may be I should rephrase that. I am limited in my capacity to be entertained. A chronic disorder that has haunted me through the years. My mother, she probably best understands this ailment I suffer from. Only her wistful sighs echo from overseas, asking me "are you bored again ?".
As a child I had the right to cry and throw tantrums, to show my dissatisfaction with the way the world was run. My only article to be published in a national daily was about loneliness. And this was at the age 17. Today, as an adult, I still struggle to come to terms with the insatiability of my mind. And so I try to tire myself physically, by running or swimming. Anything to expend this energy that threatens to devour my peace of mind.
I am reminded of the tale where the devil was kept busy by the task of trying to straighten a dog's tail. May be someday I too will find a dog whose tail needs straightening. And then I shall have less time.
posted by Subbu at 6:44 PM
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