Time Management

I've just been tired lately. I have been writing posts on this exclusive version of facebook that is just for complaining and saying negative things-- don't look for it, it's exclusive-- it's by invitation only for members of the complainer's hall of fame and museum. The other complainers come up with a lot of solutions to your problems, and here is a list of the solutions I have been awarded with:

1. Find a spiritual life; join a church; serve a higher power; embrace a spiritual calling.
2. Exercise; join a gym; swim; ride bike; do yoga; walk an hour a day; stretch; try pilates.
3. Simplify your life; throw everything away; eliminate the clutter; un-join facebook.
4. Work on you novel and NOTHING else. Focus. Don't email, don't get sidetracked.
5. Cultivate an active social life because, in the end, it's ALL ABOUT PEOPLE.
6. Go on antidepressants. There are a lot out there-- try them all until one works.
7. Go to therapy. Find a good expensive therapist or a free so-so therapist-- maybe both!
8. Go to AA; go to AA every day; find a sponsor; become a sponsor.
9. Find a new job that isn't so demanding and pays more and is fulfilling.
10. Cut down on coffee; drink more green tea; cut out caffeine altogether.
11. Stop reading message boards, especially those about sports.
12. Maybe try cocaine? It seemed to work for those guys in the 1970s.

There are more, but I'm a firm believer in ending lists at or before twelve items. No exceptions. Anyway, all of these are great suggestions, but when I considered them, I realized that they could be divided between “Things That Free Up Time” and “Things That Take Up More Time.” Maybe time management is the answer I'm looking for. It's no secret-- though they don't exactly write this on your bank statements-- that money doesn't actually exist, but is really only a placeholder for time. This recalls the character of Calico Jack in my six hour Portland epic, "Seafood"-- who is a time broker, essentially. And also this character, Adrian Prussia in this book I just read, "Inherent Vice" -- a loan shark with an idea about time like Calico Jack; if you want to make an "impression" on someone, you take away some of their time. Breaking someone's kneecap is more about the time-sucking inconvenience than it is about pain.

I got this mass email from my aunt who forwards everything, the good, the bad, and the ugly. I liked this one-- it described really well this particular idea:

"Times are tough, everybody is in debt, and living on credit. On this particular day a rich tourist from up north is driving through town. He stops at the motel and lays a $100 bill on the desk as a deposit saying he wants to inspect the rooms in order to pick one to spend the night. As soon as the man walks out, the owner grabs the bill and runs next door to pay his debt to the butcher. The butcher takes the $100 and runs down the street to retire his debt to the pig farmer. The pig farmer takes the $100 and heads off to pay his bill at the feed store. The guy at the Farmer's Co-op takes the $100 and runs to pay his debt to the local prostitute, who has also been facing hard times and has had to offer her "services" on credit. The hooker rushes to the hotel and pays off her room bill with the hotel owner. The hotel proprietor then places the $100 back on the counter so the rich traveler won't suspect anything. At that moment the traveler comes back into the office, picks up the $100 bill, states that the rooms aren't satisfactory, pockets the money, and leaves town. No one produced anything. No one earned anything. However, the whole town is now out of debt and looks to the future with a lot more optimism. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how the United States Government is conducting business today!"

Of course, not just "today" but ever since the invention of trade. And the whole thing breaks down pretty easily once the guy at the Farmer's Co-op decides he can't afford the prostitute and turns to the pig farmer instead. But no matter, I think it's a good illustration of the meaningless of money and the value of time, and the magic that can take place when time is managed properly. The trick, of course, is getting that "rich tourist from up north" to take long enough to inspect the rooms that all of these transactions can take place.

Or am I missing the whole point entirely?

13. Stand at the edge of the chasm. Gaze into the chasm. Yell into the chasm. Jump into the chasm.

Not literally, of course, the jumping, or the chasm. I like "pee into the chasm" -- though that's such a male thing-- anyone can piss on "it"-- but the male anatomy is advantageous when pissing into something like a chasm. Do I spend too much time thinking about stuff like this?