When time management consists of a few large pieces that slot easily alongside one another with rose smelling time in between, life is pretty relaxing. But when you throw a bucketful of extra pieces into the puzzle it suddenly becomes more complicated. The unknown factors, the uncertainties, require more certainty so that they can be fitted into the right slot. Failure to correctly place each piece results in leftover pieces that must be squeezed in elsewhere (squeezing out the rose smelling time), or the puzzle requires cropping - cutting out what isn't considered essential at the time of consideration. But it seems that the essentials are exactly what get cut (yep those fragrant roses).
Perhaps this is the whinings of someone who suddenly returned to work and study after several months living in the country with mum and magic fridge that re-stocks itself. There was plenty to be done and was done in those months - but the pieces were large and the roses everywhere. But is it possible these moments of transition, as we pass through the door or window, allow us to look forwards and backwards with as much clarity and balance as we'll ever have. But then again, perhaps the reverse is true. The roses of the past may never smell better than when we have just moved out of nose-shot. And the roses of the future seem all too inapparent when you're standing at the foot of the mountain taking in the entire vista. What is more likely to be the case is a blend of the two. Some insights are clouded by emotion while others are illuminated by those same emotions. But what is what, and which is which and how the hell am I going to get to work more quickly so that I have more time to go food shopping, go to the gym, write a thesis and scrabble around looking for roses to smell, are some of the pieces that I'll try to fit in without cropping too much of the puzzle.
