Time Travel

In which the author considers finding a blank sheet of paper to stare at it.

It's going to be a long night, with work going on one computer and one very big Laptop. I've spent more time working lately than procrastinating, which works out well for people like me.

Let me say something about the wisdom of chipping away at something. I don't employ it often enough, though its logic is indisputable. It seems I wait too often. I wait and I lug my dreams around like a heavy suitcase because I can't let go, but can't convince myself to find time for them.

Short term goals eat up the long term plans and the days go by and I arrive at the future blinking in surprise.

It's not like time travel.

It is time travel.

Twenty minutes. Just once a week. Maybe the twenty minutes consists of finding a corner of my desk to work at. Possibly it consists of staring at a blank sheet of paper and thinking about the "it" I want to do.

Maybe it consists of finding a blank sheet of paper and stare at it.

It is, after all, as they say, a process. Wise folk, who've written books, produced plays, learned the piano, shaped their bodies, and mastered difficult languages will say it works.

I would tend to believe them.