The time dilation in effect for most of this year is now over. Time has headed over a cliff and is now falling toward December faster than I can hang on to my safety ropes.
Time dilation allowed me to do all sorts of things this year: gardening, complain about the heat, start a compost bin, and expound on the worthiness of certain kitchen sponges (which, by the way, I’m still using and they’re still the same price.). It allowed me to put together my website and start writing to all of you. I’ve networked, tweeted, joined clubs, and passed a test. I was Matron of Honor for my sister too (though, upon hearing the word “matron” I have an uncontrollable reflex that results in a boot to the head for whomever utters it.).
So, what am I talking about? Time dilation over? What’s that, some weird sci-fi reference? And yes, it is, actually. For an explanation of time dilation, you need to read Orson Scott Card’s Xenocide series. You will thank me, because it’s superb.
And now that time has resumed its regularly perceived, mind-numbing speed, I have had to relearn how to fit 10 lbs. into a 5 lb. bag.
What that means is…I’m busy. See now, wasn’t that all more interesting than opening with, “I’m so busy?” That’s right up there with, “the sky is blue”, and “don’t discuss politics with the family over Thanksgiving dinner,” and other obvious statements.
I’ve been doing a lot of AutoCAD drafting in the last month and a half. Drafting for multiple hours every day on spaces with curving walls, cove lighting, and lots of ceiling changes. That, and my love of metaphor, caused my brain to cough up this little nugget yesterday after I came up for air with bleary-eyed fatigue.
I give you….a poem:
You’re on the line
The straight and narrow line
You’re a curving line, a swerving line, a blurry line
with foreshortened perspective
and no vanishing point
You wiggle and wriggle and try to be invisible
A dashed, almost there, out of line, line
Why can’t you be parallel?
With no intersections?
You’re full of segments and nodes and jumping off points
and that is what worries me.
You’re a line that desires to be something quite else
Something more infinite and three-dimensional, instead of simple, flat, and easy.
I want to break you.
Get back in line.
I think I may have been channeling the Five Man Electrical Band.
Feel free to attach whatever metaphorical meaning you wish to my gold-nugget protest poem. Ah, I can hear the beatniks booing snapping their fingers throughout cyberspace.
Have a wonderful and relaxed Thanksgiving!