There is so much that I don't know. Oh the years that could be spent in study. In a study. With tufted leather chairs, the gentle dust of the ages, and books aplenty. Also a computer. Because really? There is no research without the google button on the internet machine. Without wikipedia. And I am keenly feeling the lack of an institutional subscription to JSTOR. Or, to put it in a general sense, if I had the time, I keep myself occupied for damn near forever. I've never understood the people who go back to work after retirement, or stay working after the point the monetary concerns are no longer the defining issue. I've rarely needed help passing the time, as it were. Not to say that I don't get bored. I get bored very easily. Routinely and often. But I get bored because entering into new ventures that will occupy more time than I have to offer them becomes increasingly meaningless. Sure I could begin research projects left and right. Read this book or that. But I already do that. I have maybe, on the outside, 2-3 hours a day that I am not at work, eating or sleeping. Hard to get much done. I work on short stories as I can. I read, but mostly for pleasure or ideas/tonal notes for the stories. And a couple hours is easily spent. TV takes its toll. And I am no longer a single man without a care or companion. I don't want to spend all my time alone in a room that smells of rich mahogany.
Grad school (again) would certainly be a nice opportunity to move all the bookmarks a little closer to the back covers. As I get older (and surprisingly find myself thinking clearer and broader than I did in the heady days of youth) I find that time is such the rare commodity.
And it is so easy to get distracted. I've just spent the last couple minutes on Amazon. I've checked email and facebook. Poured the last of the coffee. And puttered around in general. Always the case that when time is of the essence that I often waste the most of it. I have to head out in about 30 on errands and such that will end this day of "freedom" that has mostly been taken up by sleeping in and catching up on that other lost commodity. This post is going nowhere. I was hoping that striking the keys (even though I lacked a initial idea) would lead me in a noble and notable direction. Like the discussion of architecture I was having with Gina yesterday. Or the one on Bigfoot I was having with my sister. No such, apparent, luck.
It's times like these that you feel you have to do something really important just to affirm that you are alive, that you can. To say that yes, when staring out into the vastness of the universe and infinite possibility I do recognize my insignificance, but it does not numb me to stupor but frees me from fear. And yet the arrow of time once again pierces my gentle heart with a mocking grin, implacable as ever.
We are at a tipping point in history. Of this much I am certain. Of this much I can see.