Wednesday, October 21, 2015

Hurry is not of the Devil...




by J. O'Shields II

Ever been so busy that you fell down? Take a moment and digest the question thoroughly while I prattle on and attempt to draw a line of reason to this dot of idiocy.

It's no secret that I am an adult student. That simply means I am old and refuse to give up pursuing higher education. Part of the kit and caboodle here is that I am busy. I do not refer to your generic "have so much to do today" level of busy but an all-encompassing, "save my life I'm going down for the last time" brand of bat-shit crazy busy.

First class is around 9am. I need 2 hours to wake up and become human in the morning so I am up by 7. Just kidding. I hit snooze about 9 times so I get up around 8:30 and then rush and fuss and hurriedly try to shower and dress and maintain hygiene before racing out the door and playing "find the five-o" all the way to the campus. I manage to keep up with classes while I continue to wake up and usually by slightly after noon, when my last class ends each day, I am just awake enough to go get coffee and do some homework before the "until I graduate" job begins. I fake my way through 6-8 hours of preening, self-entitled customers and go home to finish what remains of my homework. That is generally around midnight. Sometime around three a.m. I get to sleep and repeat. This is the bare minimum 5 days a week.

So today I had a professor that decided we don't need algebra on this momentous Thursday (I do not know the reason nor do I require a reason to skip maths) so it was my intention to sleep later than usual. I even went to bed slightly earlier than is typical since I did not have to sit up fondling exponents and reciting nonsense about Aunt Sally. And that should have been a good thing. But one may have noticed that when one alters a mindless schedule, the revision will rarely include all that was intended. In short, I failed to set my alarm last night.

So I awoke without sound.. This is acceptable as I do occasionally wake moments before my alarm. I lay there thinking, "I have outwitted sleep and regained consciousness before the dreaded sound of my phone screaming me to life. But then I noticed the curtains did little to cloak the sunlight. That is odd for my region at such an early hour. I fumbled about the nightstand and found my phone. Plugged in. Good. Powered on. Good. After nine a.m.. Not as good. I grumbled and then stopped to remind myself that I was alive and nothing hurt and my day was likely to contain friends and family and some new piece of knowledge that would continue to mold me.

Yes, I am my own spin doctor. 

So, we come to the apex of our tale. I swung my legs over the side and hopped down to stand beside the bed. So far so good. Then I remembered I had not packed my books the night before, I had not done laundry, I had forgotten to get either a haircut or hair product to mask my need for a haircut. Gasp! I was doomed. I had a full 3 hours worth of pointless nonsense to accomplish and half that time to accomplish it. As is my nature, I immediately told myself to hurry and begin at the top of my list at once. "take a step forward", shouted the brain to the legs and feet. And the legs and feet replied with a hearty, "Huh?"

I was watching the wood floor rush toward me. I remember looking at my hands to see if they had been alerted by the pain centers that we were facing a certain impact. The hands did not flinch to help nor did the knees bend or the hips rotate. In fact, for all the falls I've taken, not one of the adequately trained safety measures of my person leap to action. Instead I hit the floor already laughing. I wasn't hurt. it is my conviction that skateboards and mountains and automobiles have rubbed callouses on the interior of my dermis and I am shielded from within against simple damage. But I did laugh well as I got up. More slowly, I moved out of the bedroom and toward the bathroom to begin my ritual. And I reminded myself with each well thought out step, "Don't get ahead of yourself, bud."

No comments:

Post a Comment