About The Ticking Clock and the Mafia
Post 385:
If there’s one thing I fear above all else, it’s the ticking clock. I’ve always had ambitions, and that’s fine, but like anyone with ambition, there are two questions. First, are you capable of accomplishing the goal, and second, is there enough time?
Scares the hell out of me, man. I’m not saying it should or that life is to be lived under a shroud of trepidation and fear, but there it is. Dropping the truth, as far as I’m able to feel and understand it.
So let’s go back to the two things. Are you and I capable? This one doesn’t bother me so much, because there’s at least a little more control there. I can choose to work harder and harder until I see results. If no results come, different trajectories or strategies can be implemented. This takes some thick skin, but doing the work can at least give you some sense of worth and accomplishment, though you haven’t reached the brass ring.
Time is a trickier quagmire altogether. Control is out the window. We can choose how to fill the time, but not the stone-hard fact that it’s running away, no matter how steady your pace.
Here’s another layer. I waste way too much time. You’d think being frivolous with one minute would be inconceivable for a guy like me, but not so much. Just today I saw an episode of the Sopranos and instead of getting back to the million things I could’ve, I watched. Seen the show twice. Of course it’s superlatively entertaining, but so what. I’ve indulged enough on that front.
It’s that fear, coming back to bite me. Somewhere in my psyche I’m thinking that there’s never going to be enough time—fail, fail, I suck, it’ll never work, blah, call the freaking Kleenex factory and order me a lifetime supply.
What a bunch of crap. Procrastination is a useless and malignant force. Totally convinced. I used to revel in it. I’d make it a game—like how much can I put off and still get this or that done…
What a jackass. At least I could chalk my old moronic mindset up to youth, but the sweet bird has flown and here I am still being a moron from time to time—when there’s no frigging time! (I literally think that’s the first exclamation mark ever used on this blog)
So, getting back to the Sopranos… might as well use the scraps of my wasted mental wandering.
Striving for more is a bit like being in the mafia. Really. Think about it. Talk about not knowing when the buzzer’s going to sound—some guy in a track suit is liable to knock you over the head at any given moment. There’s some time pressure. Then there’s this entrenched hierarchy, hoop after hoop to jump through, no missteps. It’s a lot to deal with, is all I’m saying.
But you can’t be a good mafia guy if all you’re worried about is how much time you have left. Same with any endeavor. It’s counterproductive, works against your better judgment, and you’ll have better luck roping the clouds.
When it comes to the clock, best to forget about it. That’s right. I’m typing this with an Italian-American accent, as in, Forget About It. Sorry for the cultural appropriation, but I think I’m 0.000009% Italian, so it’s copacetic.
I’m going to throw my watches in the trash. After that I’ll spend six hours trying helplessly to disable the clock on my phone. Talk about using your time ironically and with a consummate lack of wisdom…
Cheers and ciao people. See you after and have a great Friday.
