Wasting Time
Teetering artfully on the edge of "now" and "next"
Time's been gnawing at me—like an itch I can't quite reach. Nights? A blend of ceiling stares and whirlwind thoughts. Why'd I wait so long to buy a house? And all that energy into my theatre company...what if it doesn’t pan out the way I dreamed about whenever I dreamed about it? Was it even my dream? Or someone else’s I borrowed for a while? These things feel like maybe I’m wasting my time.
Every day's a blur of tasks. Literally. My to-do list starts mildly with, like ten or fifteen items at the start of a week. Now, my legal pad is a scrawled and sprawling punch list of dozens of things. Some seem essential; others, just motions I go through. I always gravitate to the easy ones. If they’re big and about things I’m really interested in, I always find it difficult to break them apart and get started. Not doing important things I care about feels like wasting time?
What’s also been eating at me? My job as a prof. Everything's changing at the university — and in some good ways, I might add — I’m left wondering, "Have I just been wasting my time?” And, if so, what should I do about that?
It feels like I've set parts of my past on a controlled burn, not sure what will emerge from the ashes. But maybe, just maybe, all this unease isn’t about lost time, but about changing times. Maybe it's about those in-between moments, the messy transitions, and the gut-punch realizations.
Maybe it’s about mourning. That’s where gravity pulls me sometimes.
At other times, I think: what if these aren’t regrets, but just signs pointing towards something new? And maybe I’m just afraid.
Growth has a long arc and is weird and uncomfortable and I just came here to say that.
I invite you to join this conversation—here in the comments, on Facebook by searching for Controlled Burn Sparks Community, or on Instagram at controlledburnthebook. Let's navigate this wild life together, one shared experience at a time. And if this resonates, consider sharing this post. You're not just a spectator in this theater of complexities; your presence, your voice, adds richness to this ongoing narrative. There's always room for one more in this complicated but rewarding journey.