Killing Time
Mimi and I are heading back to Seattle today from Reno and we’ve got a couple of hours to kill before going to the airport. Mimi’s watching “Scooby-Do” on Cartoon Network and I’m noodling around on the computer and haphazardly packing. We may take a walk later and do some window-shopping at the pawnshop across the street.
But it’s the concept of “killing time’ that’s got me thinking. It seems strange that our goal here is simply to use up these hours, to get through them somehow so we can get on to the next thing we’re doing. I think of all the times I don’t have enough time; it’s too bad we can’t bank these hours for later use.
If I were a better person, I would never think in terms of killing time; I would always see every minute of my life as a precious resource to be savored. I would find a way to appreciate even the most banal activities; I would never be bored, no matter what was happening.
Unfortunately, my tolerance for empty moments is pretty low. I’ve always got to be doing something, even if it’s just reading a book or surfing the net. Look at me here: I could just be sitting quietly, watching from our 18th story window as people stroll the streets of Reno below; instead, I’m compelled to tap away on the keyboard as if doing so were a more worthwhile thing to do.
Industriousness is a virtue, I suppose, but probably only when it’s in service to something that has value itself. Keeping busy just for the sake of keeping busy can’t be any better than merely being; I look at all the elderly gamblers pouring their Social Security checks into the penny slots and can’t help but think their time would be better spent relaxing on a porch swing.
Just as you might think my time might here would been better spent just sitting here.
But it’s the concept of “killing time’ that’s got me thinking. It seems strange that our goal here is simply to use up these hours, to get through them somehow so we can get on to the next thing we’re doing. I think of all the times I don’t have enough time; it’s too bad we can’t bank these hours for later use.
If I were a better person, I would never think in terms of killing time; I would always see every minute of my life as a precious resource to be savored. I would find a way to appreciate even the most banal activities; I would never be bored, no matter what was happening.
Unfortunately, my tolerance for empty moments is pretty low. I’ve always got to be doing something, even if it’s just reading a book or surfing the net. Look at me here: I could just be sitting quietly, watching from our 18th story window as people stroll the streets of Reno below; instead, I’m compelled to tap away on the keyboard as if doing so were a more worthwhile thing to do.
Industriousness is a virtue, I suppose, but probably only when it’s in service to something that has value itself. Keeping busy just for the sake of keeping busy can’t be any better than merely being; I look at all the elderly gamblers pouring their Social Security checks into the penny slots and can’t help but think their time would be better spent relaxing on a porch swing.
Just as you might think my time might here would been better spent just sitting here.
posted by Professor Dave at 5:04 PM
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