Confession 36

Confession 36.

I have hardly an ounce of temperance in my body.

The longer I live, the more thoroughly I become acquainted with this natural deficiency. I confessed this to some friends the other night, and they just laughed and nodded. I'm not talking about drinking too much alcohol here or temperance movements or any of that. I'm talking about plain old moderation.

Is the no middle ground? Am I not a balanced human being? I used to think so, as my dad would often say I had a good head on my shoulders. I wouldn't consider myself moody or flighty per se, the oscillations make their appearances in different ways.

I'm either running pell mell flying down the hill, or sitting lazily on my bed not wanting to move. It's like my body has two settings - fast and furious or sluggish and sedentary. I gulp my water a whole litre at a time, then wait hours between drinks. In my mind it saves time and space in my shoulder bag if I just fit a whole water bottle down my gullet instead. Either I'm being a laid back hippie who lives life on the spur of the moment, or I'm the most annoying Type A planner you ever met in your life.

I either want to make the decisions, or just be told what to do. Just make me the top and give me some free reign (or rein if you're of a western mind) or give me good instructions and I'll set to work. When I'm working, I usually have two approaches - work ahead or race pace. The work ahead approach helps clear up time for gadding about spontaneously, and it means I've finished an assignment weeks in advance far before it's necessary to start thinking about it. This is the approach I'm using right now for job searches. I've already started looking for next fall. It's an exciting project, so I started far before anyone ought to be thinking about a job next August. The other approach I take to getting things done is race pace. This is along the lines of flying pell mell helter skelter hoping you don't hit any speed bumps or else you're dead. This happens when I underestimate the amount of time a project will take and overestimate my ability to do it. Thankfully, I've had only a small number of speed bumps, and just a good collection of late nights and early mornings. Children's Literature task cards…? Mmm.

It's clean or dirty. I'm in the mud up to my knees with slime in my hair and all manner of grossness on my face, or I want to stay far away from the mud and muck to keep my shoes nice. Either commit and be messy, or find a gentleman with a cape to lay across a puddle. In the same vein, I feel similarly about rain. Non-committal rain drives me mad. None of this spitting now and then business. Either commit to rain, and pour with all your might and muscle, or stay dry and give me the sun. I tell the sky this often.

Even in travel I see a bit of this bent. On the right hand, I think, why not pick a place, live there, buy a cow, plant an orchard, and put down some roots in the community. Be one of those 1940s sort of people who live in a place for a very long time, raise their kids there, know their neighbors and see things through feast and famine. But then on the left hand, I think, this travel thing is a pretty good gig. You should just travel in your spare time, visit friends around the country, see the world, make that your hobby. [You can't have a cow and travel in all your spare time.]

Husbands fall under this intemperance as well. Either I want one RIGHT NOW, or I can't be bothered with love or men, and I'll be the aunt who takes her nieces and nephews on holidays. I guess you could say waiting isn't one of my natural virtues. Emotions can't escape this curse either. I may feel a thing so acutely I fear my heart will crack and crumble, or burst with swelling. Every blade of grass is an exquisite masterpiece and every line of poetry fit to make you cry. I may feel absolutely nothing and getting water from a rock would be a more hopeful prospect than getting an ounce of emotion out of my heart.

Well, there you have it. I am intemperate. This shall not always be, as I imagine time wears off rough edges, and sanctification is a great catalyst in the project.  Until then, poor SG and the rest of my compatriots will have to endure.

Yours truly,

LMS