Sunday, January 06, 2002

I once read a book about wasting time. It was geared at looking at some of the different things we do (or don't do) in a given day and how we end up wasting valuable time. I think about this subject more and more as I grow older. Last night was an example. I spend the better part of four hours working on a Windows XP glitch that was bugging the hell out of me. Everytime I tried to type in a new URL or fill in an on-line form, my laptop began to become possessed, whole sentences appearing in the URL window or the fill in boxes as if I was receiving chat messages from the abyss.

I eventually solved the problem after countless hours on a Windows support system, finding that others, it seems, were having the same trouble. A simple maneuver of removing the speech recognition system, which was picking up outside sound and converting it into text. Four hours. Now what could I have accomplished in four hours? Seems ridiculous to me, but I am glad I solved the problem.

I bought some new brain wave coffee for the task of writing in this blog. The stuff tastes like shit but it sure does get the old neurons firing at a rapid rate. I'm not sure how I began thinking about compartmentalization, but I know that I was thinking about a book I once read (I suck at remembering titles and authors) about this guy who had this wicked, organized life. It caught my interest because I'm like that, to a degree. A person once said to me, of my tendency towards organization that at the time was bordering on obsessive / compulsive, "The only order in a disordered life." I have never been the same since I heard that statement. It bothered me at first.

My home is organized to a degree, but to a more involved extent, my mind is rather compartmentalized. I often think in pictures and metaphors and have trouble verbalizing my thoughts, whereas I seem to be better at putting them down on paper or "screen" in the written word. I catagorize things. Problems in my life get placed in to catagorical "boxes" labeled various ways like, "Top Priority," "Put It Off," "Medium Problematic," etcetera. I often envision a handful of "strings" hanging, all of various lengths representing the extent of the problem or issue, and my goal is to clip them off.

You can't clip all of them at once. You have to select which one to approach first. Sometimes I approach a problem in the wrong order. The more I am on top of clipping the strings, the more relaxed and at peace I am. Sometimes I get lazy and procrastinate on the clipping process. Lately this has been true.

I should know better than to bite off more than I can chew, but I do it all the time. Often, I think I need a change and I jump into something, thinking it is going to be the solution to all my problems (strings). The strings never go away. One string may represent the dishes in the sink. One may take on the value of a bill unpaid. It requires constant prioritization.

Jesus, I hope this doesn't sound nutty. Oh well, so what if it does . . . . right? How do you like that denial? Ha. This morning I was thinking of a governor. No, not the political type, the little things used to hold things back. I remember being on a go-cart track once and knowing that they place governors on the carburetors so crazy idiots like myself wouldn't end up killing himself or others. I turned around in my seat and fiddled with the thing, bending it back and in minutes was screaming down the track and passing other drivers like Mario Andretti. I got flagged aside and thrown out. It was worth it though.

My brain seems to have this governor built into it. When I was shooting dope in the past, I had quickly found that Heroin and other opiates made that governor disappear. Temporarily, naturally, but ZAP! it was gone. I just didn't have a care in the world and the world was great and you were my friend and everybody was my friend and I felt good and nothing mattered except I felt good and I loved everything and everyone and life was just fucking awesome!

No, I'm not romancing the stone here. I just remember that feeling so vividly, even now. That's what made getting clean and sober so difficult. I had to deal with that damn governor. I couldn't mess with it or I'd get thrown out of . . . . . . . society? You can't cheat. In reality, life is in TECHNICOLOR. I never cared for technicolor. Life on life's terms.

I'm still trying to think of a way to mess with that little governor. Somehow turn around in my seat when nobody is looking and bend it back. Problem is, society is a big governor. Can't do this . . . . can't do that . . . .should, would, could, better not, don't, won't, stop, halt, no swimming, no loitering, no talking, no shoes, no shirt, no service.

There are those of us who comply in life and there are those of us who are always trying to break the rules. Rules are to be broken . . . . . right? What exactly is the RULE BOOK? The laws? The Bible? Morals? Who makes the rules? What if we didn't have a governor? Is that governor our conscience? Anyway, l once found a way around the governor, except I got myself into a whole lot of trouble in doing so. Trouble was dope was not legal. Must be wrong because it was destroying me in so many ways. Maybe you just can't cheat the governor. My governor is a pretty flimsy one. I know others who have a titanium reinforced one. Bummer.

Well, I am wired to the hilt now. Angie would be proud of me. She's back on-line after a record year in the U.K., selling booze. Peter is got me back on the marquee again so I'll make him a proud man. Gotta go, more strings to clip! -Jeeem-


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