Wasted time

by tamarjacobson

Ever since I completed my Doctorate seven years ago, I have had the feeling that unless I am writing, or something, everything else is wasted time. The whole way through the doctorate, for years, the thesis hung over my head. And if I was not reading and writing for it, I lived in fear that time was awasting and it would never get done. T’s friend, Mike once said to me, "There are two kinds of people in this world. Those who finish their doctorates and those who don’t." And I definitely did not want to fall into the camp of non-finishers!

Now there are no deadlines or must-do’s in relation to writing. And yet, if I go for a walk, watch Ellen on TV, play hide and seek with Ada, water my plants … you name it … I feel as I did years ago. Wasting time.

It is as if something terrible will happen to me if I don’t get whatever it is I have to get, done. It is an ominous, kind of anxious feeling that hangs over head like my cobweb I described feeling when I was eight years old  (for those of you who might remember that old, traumatic post).

And so, this morning, as I was preparing my agenda for the week, drinking my coffee and looking over my books, I decided to leave it all be and just blog about wasted time. Explore the term, feeling, notion, concept, idea.

Just what is wasted time?

Webster on line says:

Main Entry:
wasted
Function:
adjective
Date:
15th century

1: laid waste : ravaged
2: impaired in strength or health : emaciated
3 archaic : gone by : elapsed <the chronicle of wasted time
— Shakespeare>
4: unprofitably used, made, or expended <wasted effort>
5 slang : intoxicated from drugs or alcohol

The Eagles sang about it.

It makes me think of: Regret, guilt, nostalgia, wishful thinking, admonishment, judgment, failure, can’t get it right, anxiety …

None of it sounds good. Even as I write about it I feel an uneasiness in the pit of my stomach. T. calls that feeling, "Waiting for the Axe to fall." A type of tension creeps into the base of my neck and starts to sprawl upwards towards my brain. Is the very writing about it, wasting my time?

Oh no! Is blogging wasting time?

There I go feeling as if I am tumbling uncontrollably toward a deep abyss. I hear Bob-the-therapist saying to me, "You might try just falling into it then …"

Deep breaths. Close my eyes. Envision tumbling towards the abyss and falling down, down, down towards nothingness.

Was it all just wasted time?

Will I ever have the chance to just … simply … get it all right?

Could I have done it any other way?

So, what’s it all about anyway?

Wasting time, wasting time, wasting time, wasting time, wasting time

A year ago at Tamarika: Oscar for two … plus