Monday, March 19, 2007

Unstuck in Time

March 20, 2007

Yesterday I spent several hours in a stressful meeting -- at times boring, at times informative, but at all times I had to be quiet, and all I was allowed to do was observe. After behaving myself for a long time, I discovered a trick for dealing with such situations, in fact, it happened to me as if by magic and all I did was go with the mental flow.

I became somewhat unstuck in time. Rather than sit in a room listening to people talk, I was planning the shopping trip that I would take if the session ended by the 3:30. I was on the ground floor of the department store, inhaling the perfume and glancing at the lipsticks, lotions, and potions which could restore my youth and beauty and provide a sense of calm and confidence. I strolled through the section of handbags, small casual ones of straw and plastic, knockoffs of expensive designer creations, all colors and myriad shapes. Where was one with pockets for my eyeglasses and the iPhone I haven't got yet (because it's not on the market yet)? What color would go best with everything so I don't have to change it every day, remove the contents and forget to include something in the other bag?

Then onto the escalator to housewares, where I saw in the paper they are having a sale. Shall I buy square plates? I don't have any square plates.

Then I'm back at the meeting. Nothing of consequence happening. Well, I don't have to stay here. I can go somewhere that I was having fun.

I think of the two little boys who happen to be my own, my grandsons. Elias is saying to me, "Grandmama, I want to talk to you. I need your guidance." It is three years ago at Christmas. He is nine and has gotten money for Christmas and wants to invest it with a friend but doesn't think his parents will approve. I am in awe that he "wants my guidance." What a serious little man he is. He wants the advice of an elder, and glory be, I am it. I am telling him that I think his parents will not mind what he does with his money but to be sure that the friend's share of the investment is equal, and that he himself gets equal use of what they buy together.

Now it is last year at Easter, and they have both been indulged by allowing a professional-looking hair coloring job applied to them by their mother. Andy, now age 8, is looking at his new platinum hair in the big mirror in my bedroom. "What a cute little blonde-haired boy!" he says.

This is quite a trip inside my head. What great fortune to be old enough to have such a store of places I can visit when I need (or just want) to!

But now I come back to the room and stay there for the duration, having had a pleasant escape and having complete control of my return. What a fascinating computer the human mind is. I recommend such time travel, consciously and deliberately applied. Just be sure to come back.

9 comments:

sinjap said...

when i was a corporate slave i had to go to ridiculous meetings all the time...to keep my sanity i would just try to imagine whoever was speaking in their underwear, or someone else's underwear...then all of a sudden my nasty old boss wasn't half bad - in his red satin thong! and with a little smirk i would get through the day

Finding Fair Hope said...

That sounds obscene.

Benedict S. said...

I'm with sinjab, but with a different form of inhumanity. I erect a glass room around the meeting, me outside, dressed in a white smock -- a doctor, you see, with a clipboard in my hand, and I'm taking noted on the strange behavior of the cornivores in the cage.

But, I do think Miss FF's game has a lot going for it. Next time I'm in a meeting of the sort she described, I'll also take stroll through a potion store, studying the lipsticks and eyebrow pencils and breast implants and toenail polishes. I will not do this, however, in a vain attempt to return myself to my days of youth, but rather just to see if it works. If it worked for Miss FF it must certainly have something going for it.

Finding Fair Hope said...

The little game is becoming something of a Rorschach for my readers...revealing their most secret doppelgangers and tendencies. Any more players?

Bert Bananas said...

I pick a favorite golf course and play it, in my mind, from the first hole to the point where someone finally talks to me. I've never finished a mental round of golf, but I always play well....

jon said...

Me too, and with good results almost always. Being of public school influence through a family of teachers and indoctrination at the age of three to the Montevallo student teacher lab program in the nursery school, I learned early to escape. Since the actual great kindergarden escape was foiled by lack of foresight at age five, a quick and stern return to the domain of education conformity made me give up on running away.
Some accused me of day dreaming as years passed. Others sent notes to my teacher parents. A dyslexic with a high IQ is the bane of public school and to the critter himself, me. Later, without the sense to follow my dreams, I became a public teacher myself. Not all bad, but, as time passed each consecutive year became harder to take. The 'escape' truly was my savior. First by months or holidays, then by week ends, and finally with the option of retirement at hand, by the hour. Like FF, comfort was found in the fact that I did not have to be there. Made me generate an obnoxious grin, probably. Somehow, I could make my class instruction while at the same time feel as though I was near to and involved with the Bay and LA (lower Alabama). I think that age makes the escape easier and more pleasureable.

Anonymous said...

Hi Miss FF...What I do is discover all the secrets of the universe...During my military time, I dicoverd an old scroll and it read all the answers humans have been asking since the dawn of time...Of course then I become famous and makes lots of money..

Grammie said...

...I try to create pottery pieces in my mind...jotting down ideas as I go along. Daydreaming is great for my business as some of my best ideas come through in these moments...

Anonymous said...

I silently recite poems I've memorized.

The mind as a "fascinating computer." A machine. I just can't get my mind around that.