Timing

"Life is about timing." Carl Lewis

Time

I've been thinking a lot - sorta stuck in my own head lately... not too outwardly focused, although I'm not sure anyone would really recognize it. I'm still maintaining this state of peace, at least for the most part. It's not that I'm lost, or searching, I just sorta feel like I'm looking at life as if it were a painting hanging in an art gallery, my head sorta tilted, studying the brush strokes and the colors... trying to interpret its meaning. The painting keeps morphing and I can't quite get a grasp on it, and I'm frustrated and fascinated at the same time.

The more I stare I become convinced of one thing: timing is, indeed, everything. It's all about seizing that moment and taking advantage of opportunities. It's about calculation and cunning... always being able to turn and twist anything and everything to your advantage. And as backwards as it may seem, I think those people who are the most skilled at doing this are those who do it completely on instinct... those who don't even realize they do it.

"Timing and arrogance are decisive factors in the successful use of talent." Marya Mannes

Time After Time

A suitcase of memories... is that all I'm left with, little flashes of might have been? I have such shitty timing. I used to think the essence of timing was patience; I'm not so sure that's really true. I seem to be ahead or behind, always off cadence. I'm always trying to do the right fucking thing - and it seems I miss out because of it. It's not that I'm a push over, it's not that I'm timid. I can be stubborn and tenacious when the occasion calls but this is different... this isn't that. I don't know how to fix it, my timing... maybe I can't. I should know better by now, can't always fix things. Sometimes things are just the way they are... no rhyme or reason - no explanations - no formulas.

It's strange. Maybe the painting I'm trying to interpret is me, my life. Maybe I'm puzzled by the images I see on the canvas... images of my choices, my mistakes, my glories. Where do they all fit, how did they get me to where I am right now? And timing - seeing all those moments I was too soon or too late for, always unsure. I'm forty three now - I'm at the pinnacle. From this vantage I can see behind me and I can see in front of me - and I'm wondering... I'm staring at this work, this art, and I'm not so sure it's a masterpiece. I'm wondering - is it just a commercial piece of crap?