time

The Tyranny Of Time Control

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com, Steve’s Tumblr, and Pillowfort.  Find out more at my newsletter, and all my social media at my linktr.ee)

The last few months I’d felt stressed about time on the weekends – and sometimes during the week. What was weird was I couldn’t quite put my finger on what had happened or why because there was no identifiable cause. Trying to ask “what’s my priority” over “what’s my schedule” helped, but that stress was there.

Eventually I tried just rearranging my schedule, breaking out of the usual. That sometimes relaxed me, sometimes proved to be more stressful. However, I finally realized that I was trying to align a lot of disparate schedules and opportunities – because our modern times, ironically, give us more options to manage.

We have a lot of freedom, a lot of options, and that can be a pain.

For older folks such as myself, it’s easy to remember very regular schedules of the world. You worked in this time zone. Your job was an 8 hour block. You know about time zones and that affected how you might call people. TV and news was on a schedule barring a VCR.

This wasn’t ideal, but I think we all had a sense of other people’s schedules. If you were watching X show, it was probably Y time. We knew this timezone was ahead, this one behind. There was an unspoken schedule we were on.

As technology advanced we got more freedom from the constraints of time and even space. You could chat with anyone online in MIRC, them chat programs, then Discord. You could timeshift communications quickly with emails. You’d work with people in other countries. Entertainment and information wasn’t in any schedule, but was at your fingertips at all times.

We had more options and I think it can be overwhelming because of two reasons – we have options but still have constraints, and everyone else has options too.

Yes you can chat with people anywhere any time – except there are still time zones. We may have control over our work schedule, but we’re still all on different schedules anyway. You can order groceries any time – but have to check store schedules and delivery times. You have a lot of freedom that suddenly careers into harsh reality.

But we still have options, enough options to become overwhelmed. With so many opportunities, we can become overwhelmed (or underwhelmed if we want to overdo it). More options means more work put into choices and priorities – that collide with the above limits.

But the freedom you have is also freedom others have. So the schedules for people become more unpredictable. One friend is on a gaming binge when another is eating dinner. Another can timeshift their day two hours ahead but they’re in the same timezone. Don’t even start on the fact your family is in three countries, four timezomes, and everyone thinks everyone else is always available.

I don’t think we’ve entirely adjusted to all the options we’ve got AND all the limits we still have or created with time. I’m very sure we’ve become worse at coordinating with people to judge by the complaints I’ve heard. That’s before we take a look at the political, environmental, and economic chaos of the world.

Right now I’ve decided it’s time to do two things.

First, I’ve tried shaking up my schedule. That’s helped me find out what works – and is how I got this insight. Trying new things helps me break out of my habits and challenge ways of doing things.

Second, I’ve tried blocking time out more. By thinking in terms of blocks of time, minimizing distractions, and a bit more planning I feel more focused and get things done. The act of blocking time in turn also makes me think about my schedule.

So far this has helped me. But I wonder how the world is doing . . .

Steven Savage

The Throughlines

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com, Steve’s Tumblr, and Pillowfort.  Find out more at my newsletter, and all my social media at my linktr.ee)

Last week I discussed how I took a long walk where I reflected on my life and choices I realized that, as I drifted back over the years, my choices led to more and more “alien” selves the further back I got in time. At some point the you of the past is unknown territory and you can’t learn anything or relate to them.

Now I’d like to discuss an insight from the same exercise that is not about not who I am, but instead very much who I am.

To recap, at one point in my life I took a walk for over an hour, viewing points of “divergence” in my life, asking where choices may have led down different paths. Sometimes I realized that choices would take me so far away that I’d be a complete different person. However throughout this exercise I saw something else, I saw what I call the “Throughlines,” common, consistent parts of my life.

Throughout the many mes there were consistent patterns in my life, weaving not just the life I had now, but most of the possible ones I could see. There was me now, the mes’ I could have been, and behind that were certain, nearly omnipresent elements. I vaguely call them “Throughlines” because they are consistent over time.

I have always been a writer, and rarely go longer than a year or two without some writing project. I never became the fiction writer I once half-heartedly comprehended as a teen, but I am a writer. My past “maybe selves” included technical writing, grant writing, and science writing. Writing is a Throughline, a deeper me.

I’m always an organizer, always having a plan, always having a project. I ran RPG groups and zines, planned software, and more – it’s no wonder I became a Project Manager. Whatever choices I made in my life, I know I’d have been the guy with a scheme. Planning is a Throughline, a deeper me.

I bring people together, it’s the organizer in me. I’m the guy behind the movie night and the writing club, the gaming group. I love to network people so they can come together, and it’s visible in my past from where I was nearly an administrator for an anthropology department, all the way to team building now. Networking is a Throughline, a deeper me.

There’s other Throughlines of course, from my love of theology to the fact I always return to doing art (even when I’m not good at it). You get the idea, somewhere among all the mes I could have been, probably even the ones so strange I couldn’t imagine them, there were these Throughlines. There’s a me under all the me’s.

In fact, I could see times where I could have ignored my Throughlines, tried to be someone I’m not. I can also see how I would have been miserable. For instance, for those who know me, try to imagine me as a humorous corporate IT ladder-climber – had I gone that direction I’d have hit midlife crises two decades early.

As I noted last time, I invite you to try this exercise. Give yourself at least an hour to walk somewhere pleasant and work backwards through your life, asking who you’d have been with different choices. It’s not just a way to ask about different yous, you might just find out more of who you are, even if you’d have been someone different.

There’s a you behind the yous. Go on, get to know them.

Steven Savage

The Divergence of Self

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com, Steve’s Tumblr, and Pillowfort.  Find out more at my newsletter, and all my social media at my linktr.ee)

My friend Serdar was writing about the toxicity of nostalgia, choices, and the need to see what is in front of our nose. It’s easy to ask what could have been, to want to go back. It’s an urge I entirely understand, and one I think all humans has – as he notes, that’s just part of the planning section of our brain that’s taken us so far on Earth.

It will shock no one that the last few years I’ve wondered about what could have been – and still do. In fact, I probably do it too much, though perhaps that’s part of the human condition. Maybe that survival/planning part of our brain works best with a little unease, even moreso for a Project Manager like me. But I’d like to share an exercise I did once that puts some perspective on this desire to go back.

Once, years ago, while taking a walk, I thought about my desires to go back or start over, and turned it into an exercise – one that lengthened the walk to about an hour. I thought about the major choices in my life and asked “what if” about them and what would have happened. This was not an “if I knew then what I know now” exercise, such things are different and perhaps a little idealistic about our habits. This was “what if back then the me back them made a difference choice.”

Looking back a few years, I could easily see my decisions and likely outcomes. Many a decision in life is a knifes-edge change that could go one way or another, and the memories are fresh and merciless enough to evaluate with some level of accuracy. For instance, my current (and likely until-retirement) career in academia and medicine could have started years earlier but for some petty choices – a good reminder of my own flaws. The gap between “me” now and “me” a few years ago wasn’t so large I couldn’t relate.

As my mind traveled further back the results became colder, more distant, because the person then was not who I was now. What if I had started my consulting career earlier? What if I had not tried working at startups? What if I had moved to Seattle not California? As I rolled back the years in my head, the me of the past, even as he made different choices, became increasingly alien to the person I am now.

At some point in my replay, decades in my past when my IT career started, the me in the past diverged so much I didn’t know him. I could see the choices and possibilities in the past, but they led so far off the map in the present. At some point during this rewind I just stopped being anyone I could recognize or even guess.

Now this exercise was quite useful on many levels – perhaps I’ll write about it more in time. But also at some point you realize reliving the past and asking “what if” just doesn’t serve you. You’re different people than you were and are and could be, and at some point you have to return to what’s in front of your nose. If you’re mindful, such exercises on the past put you more in the present as you realize how you got here.

You can’t go back to who you were. Who you could have been is someone else, someone you wouldn’t recognize. But you can learn to a point about who you were to be better at who you are now.

I won’t lie – in these unsettled times the “if I could back and do it over knowing what I know now” is tempting. If such a magical opportunity arose, I’d like to think the current me is grounded enough in the present to make the right decision.

But for the people I was? I can’t speak for them. They’re not me. In some cases, they’re not anyone I even recognize.

Steven Savage