The Adventure of Open Time

What do you do with an open day?

When faced with endless activity, I look to an end point somewhere up ahead where I steal a moment of rest. Until that point I hold my breath. I keep holding it to the point where my mind starts spinning and spiraling into itself. My lungs start to expand and contract to simulate breathing, but I kept my mouth shut so that no air can enter. I hold it until I start to bend over because of the heaving and blackness slides over my sight. Just at the last second I fling my mouth open and gasp for breath. How close was I that time?

Weekends were my gasp of breath between days, and sometimes weeks, of insane activity. I would wake up in the morning and quickly review what I had to get done. I'd realize there was no chance of a break until I returned to the bed where I was now making that list. Another day of gulping down food while sitting at my desk multi-tasking.

A brain without oxygen starts to slow down.  It's a very subtle process. You feel tired a lot. You realize that your brain is like a hand or leg that's fallen asleep. You touch it and prod it and feel nothing, only a lump of flesh. It takes longer than normal to process simple information. Things like names and simple facts make you stop to jump start your memory. After you do this for long enough you start to feel like you are choking. If you don't get oxygen soon, then everything will go black.

But open days rush in with too much oxygen too quickly. You start to hyperventilate and your lungs overwork themselves bringing in too much air.

Now my brain is shutting down because of too much open time. It's in a coma of free-time. Too protect itself it's hibernating in apathy. I have to slow down, start moving more slowly. Let my lungs start to relax so they are no longer pumping in so much oxygen. Too much oxygen is poisonous. I need to let it seep in so my mind can learn to function on its new diet.