I’ve talked about time before. In the 24 years of the WonderBlog, with three thousand posts, a search reveals I’ve mentioned time in half of them.

That sounds right.

And I think of this line:

I have measured out my life with coffee spoons

T. S. Eliot’s Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. But let me read the poem to find the line. I dissect out this cross section:

In a minute there is time

For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all:

Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,

Yes, Prufrock. Time, like the green then yellow lemons on the tree. Hanging with promise for so long, ready for harvesting anytime. I could pluck it. Or cherish the unspent future.

Lemons look great on a tree. I’ve found the bright yellow promise can deceive. They age well on the branch, looking bright and cheery. I finally pick it to find a dry husk.

I hate to waste time. I feel it move over me. My habits—to see the morning, greet my day and make something of it—are part of redeeming the time.

But I don’t always get what I want. I didn’t expect to be out of work since September.

The sun rises without my help.

My best quote for the feeling is my own from The Russian American School of Tomorrow:

“We had crossed the International Date Line, so it was..yesterday? Tomorrow? Time hung spinning in the now with nowhere to land”

Time vertigo.

On May first I signed a contract. The wheels touched down on the track again.

I am moving forward.Fast.

Oh yeah. I missed this. I’m good at this. It’s high time I found my way back to it.

Inertia can mean being stuck in one place.

It can also mean gaining momentum on a path. I’ll do that now. Holding my hands up on the plunge of the roller coaster..heeeere I go!