I find that with more time, I seem to get less done.
But that is not true. I am getting more of the stuff *I* would like to get done, done. Yup, that’s it kids, I am doing what *I* want to do and studying what *I* would like to study. It’s amazing to me that so much (money, food, security) has to be sacrificed for the privilege of free time. Free, when associated with time denotes some type of lack of compensation. As if time itself only exists for compensation. That all freedom is timed, or time should be paid out in increments.
I’ve always thought that time is irrelevant. I came to this conclusion some time in my teens, when I realized that five months of vagabond traveling with friends could go by in the blink of an eye, but one month at home on restriction could seem to take a year.
Just like how in classes I disliked in college, the clock on the wall seemed to pivot on an unrelated axis in proportion to how much time I seemed to be sitting on my ass listening to the professor drone on about the sociological implications of this and that other blather. I had quite a few classes I did not like in my human sexuality minor, to tell you the truth.
But time, as it stands, is disproportionate to reality, space, distance and amount. I don’t quite understand how an hour is an hour to everyone when shit, an hour just flew by like a minute yesterday and I’ve lost whole weeks in the churning engine of various day jobs, while my weekends flew by like birds vacating the north pole for the south.
So should I be compensated for my time? I’ve been spending some time doing absolutely nothing. Because my dad always told me that we are human “beings” not human “doings”. I was lying on my side on the bed this afternoon, oh, about three-ish, staring at the white flower blossoms on the tree outside my window, and the blueish/green house across the street, the sun shining and a vain attempt at a cloud drift wafting slowly by, and I felt like…I should be doing something. But then I started asking myself, why? Why does it matter? What should you be doing instead of lying on the bed enjoying the view outside your window?
I actually ended up ruminating on the fact that I have never stared out of my bedroom window, or even enjoyed my bedroom in the year and three months since I moved into this apartment. Because I always need to be doing something in order to earn my time.
Time wasn’t given to me by society. So why should society put constraints on my time? This is turning anarchist fast, so I need to back peddle a bit to get myself in the clear.
I don’t affiliate with anarchy as a whole. I like certain ideas, and idealistic views ensconced within anarchistic literature. But I still think that even anarchy has it’s rules.
Who told me I had to earn every moment?
It started with my parents. I needed to do chores and eat meals with the family (at times) to earn time to play. I had to hang out at the shop all day in order to earn time to hang out with my friends. I had to go to school all day (grooming for adult society) in order to earn time to create, draw, read and jump in the creek, ride my bicycle, or explore the neighborhood.
Then came adulthood. I had to keep a job in order to earn time to go to school. I have to pay back my time in school to the government, because nothing’s for free. So who told me the job I have to have is a 40 hour a week nine-five job?
I think I just fell into that. Because I certainly didn’t learn it from my parents. I found out quick that I could make a lot of money doing something I didn’t really like for someone else I didn’t necessarily believe in. Call it my own rebellion, or self-empowerment. My parents encouraged me to be artistic, to be unique, to follow my dreams. They praised my writing and anything else I deemed to pursue. My father did warn me about the implications of choosing a career in music, and my ex wanted so much from me in order to be a part of his record-label success that I put the dream of being a musician aside for quite some time, and continue to do so. My dad was a performing artist most of his life. He doesn’t really feel he got to do all the other things he wanted to do, and he’s not feeling valued for who he really is.
But when I learned I could earn money, on my own, doing the opposite of what my parents were doing, and could even earn more than half of what they earned in a year, I felt a bit empowered.
Until I realized I had no time for writing, music or riding the bicycle I no longer had. No time to run or play, no time to make a lot of friends outside of work.
The 40-hour workweek expanded into a prison term, while the “free” time I earned seemed so little in comparison to what I was sacrificing.
I want to choose happiness and enjoyment of the time I spend in life over financial gain at any cost.
My time shouldn’t be something I have to put myself in slavery to earn!
Do what you love and the money will follow.
We’re about to experiment with this little assertion, from here on out. While I enjoy my free time. (That my husband has now put in hard hours and another motorcycle accident to earn for me.)