Moments of Clarity

Despite my cold, I'm having moments of clarity. Not today, but yesterday. Today I am in a fog and waiting to take a nap. I must wait because I agreed to watch a friend's dog (Lucy) overnight and a friend of the owner is supposed to drop her off soon. "Between 9 and 10," the owner said, but now it's almost 10 and no Lucy.

This has happened before with Lucy. I do not blame Lucy. She's just a dog unaccustomed to watches and time commitments, though Rubin knows when it's time for a walk or a romp with Monty and is the first to let us know. And it's not that I blame a specific person. Rather, I blame a generation.

Lucy's owner is a 20-something, almost a 30-something. She is responsible and wonderfully creative. She is kind and thoughtful and as genuine as they come. But she grew up in the time of computers and video gamess and like most of her generation, operates on a different sphere. She is busy, a bit scattered, and always moving -- working, running, on the phone (usually a cell phone), driving to and fro, moving through the world like a steel ball in an overactive pinball machine.

It's not astonishing then that her dog is much the same way.

And her friends, too.

The last time Lucy was to be picked up, another of the "friends" was to pick her up at noon. At 4:30 that afternoon I got a call, asking if it was okay to come by with Lucy. I had a 5 o' clock appointment and feeling a tad hurried and a bit miffed, I anxiously squealed, YES into the phone. And then, when they arrived, the "friend" wanted to chit-chat. "I'm sorry," I said, "but I need to go since I have an appointment at 5."

I apologized! I apologized!

Later, when the whole situation was explained, Lucy's mom apologized and so did the "friend." But in the moment, no one took the time to offering any apologies except for me, the one who was inconvenienced.

In this time of cell phones and digital communications, unclear communications was blamed.

That may be the case, but I think it's a generational sense of time. Time is bigger, somehow, then it is for my generation. It's more flexible. It's multi-dimensional. Being "late" is accepted. Talking on one's cell phone in the middle of another conversation is accepted. No one has obligations or commitments at specific times. Instead they have obligations and commitments all the time, so much so that the concept of "late" no longer exists.

There's plenty to do to augment what we once called "waiting." I could get on my cell phone (though I don't have one) and get some business done. I could email (or blog, as the case may be), surfing the net, or connect to a broader world in some electronic way. I could keep firmly grounded in one place and still be a million other places all at once.

Today I have a phone call I need to make, but I can't make the phone call until Lucy arrives as the "friend" isn't exactly sure how to find my house and may need to call for further directions. Therefore, the phone must stay free. My phone call is to help me fix a computer issue for a class I'm taking on Oceanography. To complete an assignment I must have a certain "plug-in" and despite my best efforts, I can't seem to get it to work. So I must call the tech-help at the University where I'm taking the on-line course. It's not a 1-800 number, so in addition to paying for the class, I must now problem solve on my dime.

The goal for today was to get that computer issue resolved so I could finish the assignment by Friday, when it is due in an electronic drop-box. There are, apparently, time restrictions in some areas of technology.

So, I wait for Lucy to arrive so my day will feel as if it can move forward. For now, it's stuck and I am left to ponder my moments of clarity.

This is what I'm clear about:

I am no longer a teacher. I do not have a job. At the end of June I will not have health insurance, but I do have the completed COBRA papers that need to be taken back to work in order to activate the coverage (can't do that, though, as I'm waiting for LUCY!).

I've organized the dog apprenticeship to begin in August for 3 days a week. I've filled out my REI application and will attend a "hiring event" tonight and hopefully that will start in August as well. Last night at dinner, I met a friend of a friend who works for a local magazine who, as it so happens, is soliciting for articles. I proposed an idea and she encouraged me to send it in. Just like that.

This is what I'm unclear about:

My cold is moving like plate tectonics (the topic of this week's oceanographic studies) and the aches and pains are erupting despite the DayQuil. I want to nap. I want to curl up on the couch with my book, my blanket, and doze. I know when I do, Lucy will arrive and she, like her mother, is not a calm or relaxed dog. She will wish to play and so we will go for a walk -- up to school to drop off the COBRA papers and then home again.

But I can do none of it until Lucy arrives.

Of this I am clear.

And just now the doorbell rings. Rubin is excited as I, but it turns out only to be Jehovah's soliciting my time. Which time shall I offer them? Those in which I am clear or those in which I am unclear?

"I'm sorry, I'm not interested," I smile at the lovely woman at the door.

I apologize again. This is my time and I apologize for it.

Still no Lucy.

Time stands still.