Time, as Steve Miller famously said, keeps on ticking, ticking, ticking into the future. Jim Croce wanted to save time in a bottle. And Cher wanted to turn it back.

Time is a rare commodity. I am greedy for time. Rarely, if ever, do I have as much as I want. I like to save time so that I can spend it later. Oddly, as much as I grumble and groan over how I need more time I tend to waste a lot of it. And in extreme cases I kill it.

Time is a currency. And like most currencies I don’t always spend it on the things I want to spend it on. Work for instance. The great beast, the eater of time. I spend a lot of time on that. Oh, sure it does provide me with the ability to “buy food” and “have shelter” but it does take up quite a large chunk of my day. Combine that with other sundry items like commitments and errands and appointments, I’m not left with very much time for important things. Like this blog.

Oh this blog that I love and adore and often forget about while I’m off doing other things. Actually forget is the wrong word. I don’t forget, I think about this blog all the time, usually while I’m doing something else and deciding to put other concerns first.

For instance, a few weeks ago I teased the idea of posting a brand new, original story for all to see. I actually had every intention to do so. But when the time came I decided to send the story to an actual publisher at the last minute. Yes the blog suffered, but these are the tough calls that are made everyday people. If there was more time I could write more things for the blog and write things for the literary world (AKA – the random, anonymous people I plead with to take me seriously).

Here’s my daily dilemma.

I have enough time in the day to devote myself to writing for the blog (which I love and adore and brings me much pleasure) or I can spend it writing “real stories” for possible publication (which will further my career and make me famous).

Now, I could write stories that get published (in legitimate, non-bloggy places) I can build a reputation and  career in which I could quit my job and devote all my time to writing. This means I can write books and blogs and and be very, very happy.

OR

I could write more blog posts and in doing so I can build a devoted following which in turn will lead to a publishing deal where I can quit my job and devote myself to writing. This means I can write books and blogs and and be very, very happy.

Two roads diverged on an interface. Both have been taken quite often, but not by me. I wish I had the time to think it through.

There is a third way of course. A middle path. I can devote my time to “real” writing most of the time and write for the blog a portion of the time. Basically, not obsessing over it the way that I have. All this is a rambling disclaimer to say I’m going to post more content on this site, but it may be  bit more…unpolished.

There may be more rambly bits like this one. A stream of consciousness  or perhaps just a creek of consciousness. A leaky drainpipe of consciousness, maybe? Whatever it is there will be more of it.

Time is ticking into the future. I may never be able to tame it, but by golly I will wrangle it into submission.

And one last note: No matter what happens, I give you my solemn promise; I will never say “by golly” ever again.