post-ed

Dolphin Pregnancy Test

            A friend of mine said she went swimming with dolphins in Mexico as a teenager. She was with her parents in the boat and accompanied by a married couple on their honeymoon. My friend frolicked in the water, the dolphins swimming near, playfully prodding her with their noses.

            You know, as dolphins do.

            When the bride dove in the water, the dolphins scattered. She asked why since the dolphins bailed like children in the pool that absolutely KNOW a kid peed in the shallow end. The instructor said, “Are you by chance pregnant?”

            The bride said, “Yes, we just found out before flying out here.”

            “I see. Yeah, the dolphins won’t come near you. They can sense when a human is pregnant and don’t want to harm the child.”

            My teenage friend was stunned.

            I was stunned, too, because there was obviously a great idea borne then: why aren’t dolphins utilized as pregnancy tests?

            Well, it isn’t humane, you might argue. It’s just another Sea Life Labor Dispute, one only eclipsed by the orca whales in that documentary whose title eludes me.

            And, you’re probably right, dolphins in place of pregnancy tests (where available) would be a terrible idea.

            But, in sea world, if there’s any wonder why the dolphins gravitate towards the far end of the pool, it’s probably because there are too many pregnant women there that day.

            Or a kid peed.

            Either/or.

***

Smile, Sisyphus

            I haven’t finished a book in two weeks. Nor watched the new Brian Regan stand up special on Netflix or seen a new movie. I haven’t cooked a new dish, found the means to workout, or start on a children’s book I’d like to illustrate throughout the year.

            It hasn’t gone according to plan.

            There just isn’t enough time.

            Have you considered the math of how much free time one has? At the beginning of the year, foolishly, I came up with a schedule for writing, posting on this website, and all the side projects I wanted to complete. All my goals were compiled into neat, monthly squares, and I would simply make a little progress here, fit in a little bit there until, inevitably, a Trickle-Down Effect of completed projects would shower over my self-esteem.

            Three months into the year and I’m finding this “Trickling Down Effect” was just as ineffective and stupid as any economic policy it might be based on, and my plans have blown up like Nuremberg instead.

            So, I redid the math on how much time I have.

In a week, there are 168 hours. Here are the basic building blocks:

• 8 hours per night for sleep.
• 10-hour workdays, four days a week.

Ok, that accounts for 104 of those hours. That’s the major stuff. Then there’s:

• One hour per day for showering, brushing teeth, face cleansing, bathroom use, etc…
• One hour per day for driving (to work, finding food, heading home for the day, etc).

Right, that’s another 14 hours, which adds up to 118 hours. Anything else?

• 1.5 hours per day for eating dinner with family, making meals, etc.
• I play hockey, which is twice a week, averaging to 3 hours per session.

Add that up and we’re at 134.5 hours.

            Theoretically, I could devote 33.5 hours per week to anything creative, which is about 4.7 hours per day for all the self-fulfilling things I’ve been missing out on: watching Stand-Up specials, podcasts, SNL sketches on YouTube, reading, etc.

Wait, but there’s more. Here are my secondary responsibilities:

• I write in a journal for an hour every day.
• I write and edit short stories, producing several new drafts, which equals (I’d average) about 3 hours per week.
• Graphics and illustrations, depending on how many, equals 4-5 hours per finished project.
• Then there’s writing a novel on the side, which feels like an incalculable amount of time spent.
  • However, I’ll put a number on it: an hour per day.

            So, that’s another 22 hours used up. That means the total hours spent on necessary items during the week (for me) amounts to 156.5 out of 168 hours. That’s roughly 11.5 hours per week for anything else, or 1.62 hours per day.

Seems like a luxurious amount, doesn’t it?

Well, supposing you’re not a human being who:

• Needs time to wind down for the evening,
  • Needs exercise and fresh air,
  • Needs to spend time on a hobby for fun,
  • Needs time away from family and friends and work, to be alone for a while,
  • To do something monotonous and un-meaningful for your own psychological wellbeing,

            1.6 hours per day isn’t a lot to work with. I don’t know about you, but strictly scheduling downtime has never been effective. That’s because I never know much I’ll really need. Some weeks are worse than others, either emotionally or physically—which is really the same thing.

            And think about this (since many of you might have come to this conclusion already about my lifestyle):

            I’m single, in my thirties, without children, and without any responsibilities other than the ones I choose take on for myself. My story isn’t the norm. Most people have kids, have appointments, have therapy and doctor visits, car repairs, baseball practices, weekend excursions, family visits, and million other interruptions to a life already jam packed full of stuff.

            Never mind the emotional toll of trying to keep it all together.

            So, when I start to feel guilty about all the extracurricular and soul-enriching things I’m missing out on (like reading a book, watching a new movie, traveling), I wonder how anyone in this world without the means and power to say ‘No’ actually lives this life.

            It’s an uphill battle; how does anyone expect to do it all?

            I guess like this:

            Smile, Sisyphus.

***

New Short Story Coming Soon

            I’m working on a new short story that should be posted sometime this week. Here’s a preview:

Wishing everyone as well as they can be. You’re not alone out there,