Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Even though I never mark my calendar with reminders about Daylight Saving, whether coming or going, word of these important dates always seems to arrive a couple days in advance, narrowly averting disaster in the process. You know exactly what I’m talking about: that fear of showing up precisely one hour early to work. But this has never happened to me, and I think it’s because people like telling you that you need to set your clock back.

To set our clocks back. I couldn’t think of a more–wait for it–timely phrase. You may recall the grim missive from last week, in which I chronicled a reversion to my old ways. There’s been chatter this week of a triple dip for the housing market, too, and I honestly didn’t even know we had a second dip, or that we ever climbed out of it. We are going backwards in time.

And that feeling of losing my compass is still there, crouched in the background. It was particularly poignant at 3:47 AM on Saturday morning when I was groggily finishing up Batman and wondering when exactly my weekend took such a wrong fuckin’ turn. But then it dawned on me today that the new self I’ve been cultivating is still there. I’ve got my new skills, new capacities, new acquaintances, and new wardrobe. Maybe it’s not a question of finding my old compass, but building a new one.