You know those days, let’s make that weeks – okay months – when everything you’re working on is a whirlwind, a spin cycle at warp speed, a Great Race without Tony Curtis to make you chuckle and you’re running-working-thinking-appeasing-initiating-generating as fast you can?
You look up at the clock, you glance out the window, you dare a peek in the mirror and you don’t really need any of it to tell you:
Tempus Fugit.
Don’t you wonder why all the best one-liners derive from Latin, and stick around in illustrious form even if only to be found on our mugs and t-shirts? Hey, they’re some of my faves, and they offer smarts I live by: carpe diem (seize the day), caveat emptor (buyer beware), qui tacet consentit (he who remains silent, consents), and I must add one in French that I just adore: marche ou crève, which literally means “march or die.”
What better ways to remind ourselves to live fully but with our eyes open, speak up for ourselves with conviction, and whatever we’ve got going, even when it gets tough, to just keep on truckin’?
Of Hair and Philosophy
I must say, this little gem tickles my feminine fancy and elicits a girly grin: barba non facit philosophum. Yep, you guessed it. The beard doesn’t make the philosopher.
Now how exactly am I to interpret that on this day which finds me rushing from the moment I wake, lecturing myself for jamming too much into a 24-hour period (again), and woefully missing my usual dosage of Java Joe, though content I don’t require taking a razor to a bearded chin but only the occasional tweezers (sigh) when no one is peeking?
Hmmm. The beard doesn’t make the philosopher. Might that mean that age doesn’t necessarily make us wiser? Or the male of the species is not the only observer or orator of note?
I’ll smirk at any combo I care to create of this one, and rue the digital and analog reminders around the room of the lateness of my hour, moving on to the checklist of dizzying duties for the day which include assorted drafts for a variety of kind folk, a sink of dirty dishes to dispense with – (Deus ex dishwasher machina?) – and loads of laundry (installation art?).
May I add the unexpected but now-I-must-clean-the-house-and-grocery-shop-dammit mobile missive that College Kid Number Two is winging his way home for Spring Break, to whit I lament: Does anyone know the Latin for Empty Fridge Syndrome?
A dull moment? Does your life contain any of those I ask, breathlessly hurrying through this unruly thicket of thoughts as I press on into the afternoon?
Ah… Boredom. (Not.)
Frankly, I could do with a little boredom of the bountiful beautiful Miami Beach variety with fashion mag on lap and tropical drink in hand, and Latin rhythms in the background, as I happily bone up on fab phrases to stretch my cerebellum and populate my prose.
If not that, I could go for a few months in France – ad infinitum? – sufficient sensory succor cum luxuriant leisure as I pop into my most beloved galleries in the City of Lights, browse at Beaubourg and people-watch in their chic, cave-like café, and then, well… you know.
I would board that train to the South and say bonjour to friends and friends of friends and new friends I would love to meet in person, then journey on to the Mediterranean coast and the piquant kiss of sun on my shoulders as I stroll the Promenade des Anglais – there where I fell in love with language, there where jutting rocks and endless blue is interrupted only by creamy coral and orange painted walls, there where I learned to taste life’s possibilities to which I cling – bona fide proof that as long as we breathe and dream, it ain’t over til it’s over.
And that holds true even on the days when the clock ticks faster and the heart pounds and we scurry with the scattered determination of Alice’s Bestie, the Little White Rabbit, descensus in cuniculi cavum – into our own tunnels of tumult with places to go and people to see, joyously if hurriedly, setting aside the premise of boredom or anything like it because, after all, more than any midlife manifesto this is our reality at every age: a solid dose of carpe diem and the wisdom, with or without a beard, to understand – tempus fugit.
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Ah! Trains and the Med and #lavieeuropean *sighs*
Absolument, tg. What better, this time of year?
I haven’t had a dull moment in a long time and I’m way overdue for one!
I hear you, Carpool Goddess… (Can we all have a show of hands for those who need a little break?)
Hands are raised! Tempus fugit, indeed. And may I borrow a quote from that scholarly show we all know, “Like sands through the hourglass, so are the Days of Our Lives?”
Sometimes I welcome a cold, because it makes me stop and rest for a night.
I love the way you can toss language around that trills off of your tongue – to a word-loving girl it’s thrilling. Most people are still working on the English language!
To get back to the purpose of your post – yes! On International Women’s Day, I say we all multitask and drive ourselves nuts and become overwhelmed by our daily dose of work, craziness and worry. (With thanks to Gloria and Betty and Bella for giving us these opportunities!) So onto the Paris for me, at least in my mind.
By the way, I can toss Yiddish terms around with the best of them! I have to figure out how to say Carpe Diem in Yiddish…
Great post. Loved it!
Cathy, Other than an oy or a mashuganah (sp?), my Yiddish is bubkus. Care to share any useful terms? Carpe Diem in Yiddish… uh, would it involve Gefilte fish instead of carpe? 😉
I have to admit that my life has slowed down recently (for me), and while I thought it would be a gift it has, in fact, just caused me to gain weight and want to sleep all the time. But I’m with you for the majority of my life . . . desperately needing a chance to breathe. Did you read that in our generation women are NOT going to outlive the men for the first time in history? Perhaps this is why!
I am craving boredom of the beach-kind! And I totally understand Empty Fridge Syndrome, although now I can’t blame it on the kids. We’ve finally learned not to overstock now that the kids are gone and only come back for quick visits (then take the leftovers home with them.)
Lovely to have you here, Barbara. Yes – learning to shop differently when the kids are gone takes a little practice, doesn’t it?
Illegitimi non carborundum
Ha! Excellent, Curtis. (I won’t let the bastards get me down…)
I rushed through 4 food markets, 3 pharmacies and 2 liquor stores (maybe not enough of those) this week all in the service of others. It’s Saturday and I’m just getting to read my favorite blogs now. I need to take charge of my life more and learn to delegate. I need some delegates. Thanks for making our daily plates sound too real,
*waving hand wildly* I also had some forced down time this week because of a cold. Hate being sick, but a day at home with chicken soup is just what the doctor ordered, for both my physical and mental health. Love your writing all the time, BLW.
Thanks, Helene! (Hope you’re starting to feel better.)