We usually think we don’t have enough of it, as if it would suddenly run out. And sometimes time seems to stand still. We set ourselves appointments in time, deadlines in time, and sometimes allow ourselves a timeout.
The whole world has agreed to this arbitrary standard, as a means of segmenting our finite human sojourn on this planet. We have divided it up into a certain amount of months, weeks, days, and hours and we agree to allow it to reign supreme over all our activities. Time is a cruel master – it never bends to our needs and we are forever chasing after it.
While America is reeling and holding its head at the thought of Donald Trump as a possible 45th President of the United States, so too is Serbia biting its nails to see who will come out on top of the extraordinary one-party elections coming soon to this country.
BELGRADE – In a phenomenon that people are calling “Grumpymania”, the streets of the Serbian capital are abuzz with spirited grumbling and complaining. The weather, for many is too cold. The shopkeepers, for others, are too rude. Slow waiters, idiot drivers, and robotic postal workers are under siege in Belgrade as #Grumpymania sweeps the nation.
Having slept quite well, I woke up one fine morning refreshed and in an excellent mood. People who know me will note that this is exceptional behavior and perhaps even cause for alarm.
My routine had all the usual morning hiccups associated with my as yet decaffeinated state: I dropped the spoon while making my coffee; I found a dark thread on my white bathrobe, which it seemed I had inadvertently put on inside out; the butter knife slipped from my hand mid-toast; reaching for it, I hit the bread and overturned it; I took a new piece of bread (and new knife) and re-booted. Thus reconfigured, I proceeded to my breakfast.
It’s a mystery. Wrapped inside a pickle. On a ham sandwich.
On sale in Aisle 7.
The mystery is that I no longer know where I am when I go to the supermarket in Belgrade. Today, for example, I started out list-in-handed on a journey to IDEA in New Belgrade. I had received in the post a special Happy Birthday coupon for a 10% discount (on almost everything except what I wanted to buy I found in the fine print).
When I arrived, I found a large empty shell where IDEA used to be. It has been “in renovation” for several months now, so one supposes that this is a euphemism for “it’s probably ok for you never to try here again.” Resourcefully, I decided to pull out of the empty parking lot and dog-leg it into Roda next door.
Yesterday I woke up knowing that I would face the mountainous terrain of Serbian bureaucracy in order to finish the establishment of my branding agency. It is mountainous, full of crags, hairpin turns, and impasses due to rock slides, and while it is not impossibly high in altitude, it takes a climber of a certain determination to traverse.
Is it possible to have an opinion with joining a Cause?
Case Study: Same-sex Marriage. It is not acceptable anymore to merely accept this and generally agree with it. The Socially Acceptable Model is to “celebrate” it. We must loudly proclaim our most underscored, emphatic, and rainbow-painted glee. We must show Vindication and Exaltation. Otherwise, we might be mistaken for a Scalia-style dissenter.
One phone call was all that was needed to introduce violence into our home.
We needed movers. We called a few. We agreed a deal with one. He came, he forgot the deal, and he began threatening to “beat” us when we insisted. He said that he had beaten his mother that very morning. He held the thing we had to move hostage. He added, just for information, that he was a “woman-hater.”
“I am the author of this book,” I told the nice man who looked Official. “Why is it in the Architecture section?”
“Oh, it says Architecture, but really it’s not.”
“I can see that. But people will not look for it here.”
“This is Biography, Journals, and Autobiography.”
“But it says Architecture.”
“It says that, but it is not.”