Who Knows Where the Time Goes?*

Note:  This is meant in jest.  I am not now, nor have I ever been, abducted by aliens.  Nor am I mocking those who say they have been abducted by aliens.  Nor am I ruling alien abduction out as a future event in my own life.  To paraphrase Shakespeare, I believe there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in my philosophy . . .

Today they did it again.  I sat down on the back porch, picked up a book, and two hours later realized I was still sitting there with the book open to page one.  What happened to the time?  I didn’t read.  I didn’t move.  (I can tell because of the creaks and pops and general stiffness of my joints when I finally did get up.  Honestly, my back porch chair isn’t all that comfortable.)

The most obvious explanation is that aliens abducted me right off the porch, did whatever aliens do, then returned me.  Probably they just took my brain or consciousness and left my body propped up here, fooling the neighbors into thinking I was really engrossed in my book.

It’s way too embarassing to admit the other possible explanation:  I’m lazy enough to sit  for hours, in an uncomfortable chair, doing absolutely nothing.  Not even thinking–just sitting.  If I came to some brilliantly perceptive insights into the nature of mankind, or figured out a simple solution to complex problems like the debt crisis, or global warming, or why Snooki is famous, then I could justify all this sitting around.  (Once I did spend time thinking about how YouTube is affecting cultural change around the world, but I didn’t want to get up and grab my laptop and I started to get a headache so I gave up and went back to just sitting.)

Of course, the real problem isn’t the 1-2 hours lost today, but the culmination of all the lost hours over all the days of my life.  Just last week I came out of my alien-induced fugue state and realized that I’m over 50!  How did this happen?  Just think of all those lost years, the time I could have spent doing. . . well, I don’t know what I could have done.  But it would have been more productive than sitting around doing nothing.

Damn aliens.

So I’ve started this blog in an effort to make myself do something at least some of the time.  Look for semi-regular postings, unless the aliens decide to keep me when next we meet.

* “Who Knows Where the Time Goes” is a great song by Sandy Denny.  Lots of others have also recorded it, including Judy Collins, Eva Cassidy, and Nina Simone.  Check it out on YouTube and affect cultural change!


About notthatCindyCrawford

I like books, music, movies, television, sports, food, travel, learning, laughing and sitting around thinking. This blog is a place for me to have fun writing about the things I love. Let me know how I'm doing.
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7 Responses to Who Knows Where the Time Goes?*

  1. Anne K says:

    Enjoying the blog! Keep ’em coming

  2. Bob(by) says:

    Good read. You can’t be over 50 cause I’m your “baby” brother and that would mean I am over…………….. damn aliens.

  3. Pam says:

    Love it! Glad you are keeping the aliens busy in A2.

  4. Jeff McKown says:

    Cindy – I’m jealous. On many levels:
    1. Your writing voice is so close to your speaking voice (and it’s perfectly entertaining).
    2. I can never relax and slow my brain down enough to just sit and not think (meditate?).
    3. I would really like the chance to meet aliens.
    4. You have the discipline to blog more than once a month,

    I think I will leave bullet-pointed replies to as many of your blog posts as possible.

    Keep writing – Jeff

    • I’m not sure discipline is the right word. More like I’m writing the blogs to help put off other things I should be doing.
      You know, you’re partially responsible for this–reading your blog about Borders gave me a push, so thank you.

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