Thus sang Robert Lamm for The Chicago Transit Authority in 1969. True now as it was then, but recently I’ve been thinking, “does anybody really know where their time goes?” To not be acutely aware of how one uses his time is the way of wasting it, yet maintaining the awareness of where the time does go inherently squanders it in turn, as much for the minutes of actually managing it for those worrying about how well one is managing it in the first place.
It will be a glorious miracle if I can make it to the grave without first losing my grip to self-induced dementia.
2012 is the year of management, thus I have proclaimed, so 2012 will be the year of constantly asking myself per Drucker’s instruction, is this really an effective use of my time for my priorities as they stand? I crow desperately that I must find recognition in my photography, and that will not happen until I have attained the level of mastery capable of laying the cultured masses to waste with the sheer power that elusive power, ART. But ah, from so many ill-conceived plans is born the mortal misery of mankind. I can’t even sit down for ten minutes and concentrate on a single train of thought for what I want to accomplish.
Perhaps this is the cause of all my trouble, over-saturation of information has broken my frail mind and nothing of any substance remains. At the very least I know that I have been writing less and less over the past few years, partially because my philosophy of media creation has been eclipsed by media consumption in the panicked search for validation. The path to success lies through the accruing of endless knowledge, everything from processor cache sizes to the jabberings of a hundred housewives.
I need focus, but one thing that is quite clear is that as Autumn Tactics celebrates its 10th anniversary it may very well be its last.