Warning: It’s weird. It’s a little dark, and I know it. I told you my little mind trips have been taking me to some surprising places. A padded room may be next.
Last week I announced the probable location of Baytown’s newest red-light camera: the intersection of Natalie Street and Whatley Drive. Upon further review, my map needs a little rearranging. Those roads should be running parallel and in the same direction. My subconscious obviously saw them as being cross-ways–an accurate representation as summer winds down.
Pondering that revelation, I determined a red-light camera wasn’t exactly what I needed to get back on track. Because there are shadows floating in and out of my peripheral vision, blinders would probably be a better choice–less expensive, too.
For whatever unknown reason–and I’m hoping it’s not some sort of mid-life-crisis thing–I’m terribly distracted and antsy lately. Not my usual modus operandi. To make matters worse, I found that psychologists liken mid-life to adolescence. Whoa! The fact that I have two true adolescents and one getting closer by the minute living in the same house proves The Big Guy has an incredible sense of humor. Maybe I’ll feel like laughing when all the angst subsides.
I get in a frenzy of knowing what needs to be done and when, but end up chasing little diversions and forgetting what it was I set out to do in the first place. I guess that’s better than pursuing imaginary leprechauns, but I worry because I read in a New York Magazine article by Sam Anderson that distracted was once a synonym for insane. Top ‘o the mornin’ to ya! Want to help me find the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow?
It also turns out that there are gradations and categories of distraction, as well as a fair amount of arguing among experts. Go figure.
There’s the good, receptive/reflective distraction; the bad, deceptive distraction; and the ugly result of procrastination. I’m a jack-of-all-the-distractive trades with seeming mastery of the negatives.
The receptive variety recharges mental batteries producing empty space for creativity and forward progress. It is achieved by quiet (haven’t heard enough of that since school let out) tasks such as taking a solitary walk, or lying back and allowing the mind to clear—good, healthy detours. (Clear mind? I’ll need moving boxes . . . lots and lots of moving boxes. Is it really a “solitary” walk if there are several voices in my head carrying on conversations with me? Just wondering.)
Then there’s deceptive distraction –e-mail, Facebook (I’m far too introverted for it, but I try to be sociable), online discussion forums, phone calls—tangents that supposedly work against productivity. Those aren’t problematic for me, I don’t think (denial?), and I’d argue they actually help me perform the solitary job that is writing—gets the creative juices flowing, so to speak.
What has me staring into darkness during the wee hours, and preoccupied during the day is far bigger. If I could put my finger on it, I’d squash it before it robbed me of another second. But it’s elusive, and not ready to be caught.
So, maybe I’ll get those blinders and hope they keep me on the straight and narrow until whatever this is passes. My dilemma, besides looking ridiculous: Some days, heck, weeks, put me out on a proverbial ledge, and I don’t want to talk myself down. I’d rather dive and feel the freedom of flight, if only for a brief moment. How tragic would it be, to miss seeing who was standing next to me?
© 2009 Natalie Whatley