The Flight of the Rocketman

Mondays are meshed with Tuesdays
And the week with the whole year.
Time can't be cut with your weary scissors
And all the names of the day are washed out by the waters of night.
-- Pablo Neruda (as texted to me by a friend)

There are moments when it seems I have all the time of the world and find myself with nothing to do. These are the moments when I put on a CD and just sing along to music and just absorb every sound, tone, pitch that the music sends out. I absorb the words and dance, sway, sing along to what I hear. These are the moments I allow myself to dream.

Then, there are moments when it seems I have no time at all to do anything. Work piles up, scripts must be written, meetings to attend to from across the city, people calling and asking for my time and these are the days I move from one job to the next, trying desperately to hear the music in my head.

Music really is the only release; my only escape.

I hate those moments when it seems that there are so many things that must be done and I always find myself in a position where it all depends on me and I cannot just transfer the load to someone else. This may sound immodest, but I have a tendency to make myself indispensible. Did I spell that right? I don't think I did...

Anyway... And these are the times that are bad for me. I can't help it. I enjoy being needed. It helps cure me of my insecurities. Of course, the problem becomes the amount of things people need from me, sometimes. It gets over-whelming. I hate that overwhelming feeling. Like I can't breathe and I don't know what to do next. And it is the exact opposite feeling of being indispensible. Because you know that one person who needs you will not be satisfied and that feeling sucks. It hurts. It is absolute pain. I can't stand that feeling. I hate it.

Time management? I don't know how. I am hardly a structured person. I go crazy when I'm hit with a semblance of order. I prefer chaos. It makes more sense to me.

I'm that kind of person whose table is a mess but can find anything in less than a minute. I jsut move that piece of paper there and those keys over there and move that notebook to one side and then BLAM! The document I was looking for is in my hands.

There is this question I like to ask people: is the universe an ordered, structured place and it is us, humans, who make the world chaotic? Or is the world a chaotic, disordered place and do humans try their best to put order and structure to it?

I believe the world is a chaotic place, filled with random occurrences and constant change. It is us humans who try to fit everything into some sort of recognizable category. But how can the undeniable maxim "there are always exceptions to the rule" hold true if the world is structured and ordered. If something always manages to slip, if something always manages to break away from the structure -- it can't be all that structured, can it?

It may not be some huge mess that we expect chaos to be. It just jumps out in little moments. But it can't be all that ordered.

And I don't know why it makes me feel more secured to know/think that. I feel safer and in better hands knowing that this world really isn't as controlled or as structured as we think or hope it is.

Maybe I like that idea because it tells me to not be such a control-freak, to let go and to be more open to the spontaneous and the unnatural; because spontanaeity (sp?) is natural. The random is natural. And there is nothing wrong with that.