I
have this theory.
Well…
theory may really be a bit too strong of a title for it.
It
sure seemed like a theory all those years ago… more than twenty
years ago… more than two decades ago… back when sleep seemed like
both an option (when staying up around the clock was still fun
and thrilling and at times necessary to fit everything into a
day) and a blessing (holding so strongly and tightly to the belief
that no one should be awake before 10am).
These
days, perhaps guideline would be better description… a bit extreme
still… perhaps funny little thought would be more appropriate.
Anyway.
Here goes…
The
day only changes when you go to sleep.
Let
me pause for a second while you consider that…
The
day only changes when you go to sleep.
Initially
it seemed like a terrific observation. It was a fantastic concept.
It was -- let’s face it… to the brilliant mind, awake at 4am and
settling in from work with a Nintendo controller in my hands and
a Labrador asleep on the couch -- a brilliant theory.
Inarguable in its sensibility and meaning.
It
came from the chaos of college (where things like last minute
efforts on papers or studying for exams often lasted well beyond
reasonable hours into sunrise moments).
It
evolved while doing things with friends, and coming home from
the first real full-time job, and so many other things that create
a common foundation for each and every one of us, even when the
circumstances and stories aren’t all that common.
If
you were awake on Thursday… and by the calendar definition we’ve
past midnight to move along into Friday… and you’re still awake?
Then it’s still Thursday.
It
just doesn’t feel like Friday until you’ve closed the book on
Thursday… ended the activities… gone to sleep and woken up.
The
February of 1993 date for the concept comes from a transition
in my life. At the time I was working two jobs and attending school.
Considering one of the jobs was more than 45-minutes from my house
and the classes had lab sessions involved, it was quite an experience.
Ever work a double-shift? I was working triples and quads… tying
three or four work shifts together with commuter time, classes,
studying, and so on… and often I’d go roughly three days existing
only on a nap or two when I could find thirty minutes to an hour
open.
We’ve
all heard the crazy and clichéd questions or thoughts people
use in the attempt to make conversation…
“They
keeping you busy?”
“Nice
day.”
And,
of course, the popular…
“Can you believe…”
And
by that, I mean you can fill in the blank…
“Can you believe Christmas is almost here?”
“Can you believe the girls are almost teenagers now?”
“Can you believe the year is over already?”
In
response to these things, the conversation usually moves into
ideas about how time flies. Especially when you get older, and
lose so many of the landmarks of measurement along the way… such
as a school calendar that featured vacations, moving on to a new
grade, and ultimately toward graduations.
In
February of 1993, my running joke of a response to those crazy
questions became: “I still don’t know what happened to February
of 1993.” And it’s a response that got a little funnier, a little
stranger, and perhaps even became a bit more of a novelty as the
years have passed.
Those
that know me well, and recall 1993, remember how batty things
were back then.
Those
that don’t remember my 1993 often just nod in some vague sense
of agreement and laugh.
The
idea eventually reaches a small commonality of understanding.
The
years fly by.
As
2014 begins, I find myself wondering what happened to August,
September, October… basically the last five months of 2013.
A
whirlwind of events and challenges were presented, and in responding
so many plans were moved and adjusted or simply put to the side.
That
theory… of Friday not turning to Saturday until at least a nap
had become involved… seemed to work wonders and offer so many
options. Heck, there was even an extreme corollary to the theory.
It was based on the idea that if you managed to stay awake throughout
an entire day, effectively we were no longer talking about turning
the page on a calendar so much as being a full day behind the
world once sleep did arrive.
It
used to take three or four storms before I became tired of shoveling
snow. When that moment happened… usually early February… I would
be truly fed up. To the point that if only an inch of snow had
covered the ground, and I knew no one was coming to my door, I
just left it for the sun to address.
Perhaps
three or four years ago, it no longer took multiple storms and
the frustration was evident by early January.
And
this year? Well -- I could let you in on the story of the snow
blower… excuse me, snow thrower -- but the reality is
simple. I was fed up with snow before it even snowed.
Is
this why people move to Florida?
I
don’t know. (Not yet.)
What
I can tell you is this December it sure seemed like the snow and
ice from last winter had never fully cycled through a spring,
summer and fall before they reappeared.
What
I can tell you is that 2014 has arrived and I’m not sure I was
ready, on the starting line, and prepared to hit it in stride
as it began.
What
I can tell you is that while I still have no clue what happened
to February of 1993, I’m finding that my memories and grasp of
thoughts no longer seem associated with long term concepts. I
don’t like snow now… there is a good chance March of 2014 will
arrive before I can manage to accomplish anything in February
of 2014.
Of
course, it’s also possible I simply need a vacation… or at least
a nap.