I’m trapped.  On vacation.  In London.

O woe is me.

What was a perfect five day trip that featured golf, rugby, a Patriots win and countless pints of deliciously bitter beers (in remarkably cozy pubs) has been extended by a massive storm that I will never experience.  Hurricane Sandy is blocking entrance to the east coast and I’m here for at least two extra days.

My nerves don’t know what to make of the situation.

This trip was made possible by the fact that, despite my three jobs, I have very little actual responsibility in the world.  Yet, I just don’t feel right about being here these extra days.

Why do I feel guilty? What responsibilities am I actually neglecting?  Well, my three hours of volunteer teaching tomorrow for one.  My four hour shift at the movie theater on Wednesday for another.  Will the school and theater be able to go on with out me?  You bet.  So why the butterflies?

I think it speaks more to a general feeling I’ve noticed lately than the specific situation I’m facing.  I just feel an intense internal pressure to maximize every minute of every day of this one life I’ve got (and already wasted so much of).

Today is a microcosm of that daily struggle.

I awoke this morning and weighed my options.  After breakfast, do I go out and explore this incredible city – on a rare sunny day no less – or do I use the morning to catch up on emails and write on the neglected blog.  It’s a catch 22.  But here I am.  Clearly, I chose the latter.

If I had gone out sightseeing and fresh air collecting I’d be haunted by the inbox that I’ve largely ignored since my arrival in jolly old England.  I’m also quite sure that if I was out strolling I’d be flooded with ideas for blog posts – ideas that would float in, take shape and expand – before evaporating like so many others before them.  I just couldn’t deal with that again. So here I am.

Now emails have been sent.  Words have been strung together.  And I’m almost free.

Then it comes again.

What do I do once I leave?

I know what I want to do.  I want to see the new Bond movie.  I mean, how many chances will I get to see a Bond movie in London?  But I know the decision to actually do that would come with consequences.  That old feeling would creep up through my belly and the noise would grow between my ears… Why am I at a movie in a foreign city when I could be walking and exploring?  Why aren’t I taking advantage of this lovely fall day?  Why did I spent nearly $20 on a movie ticket?

Then there’s the alternative. I walk around, likely rather aimlessly, watching people and admiring architecture.  Accomplishing nothing.  Probably feeling lonely.  Wondering why someone as gregarious as myself has so much trouble striking up conversations with strangers. Having a pint or two.  Regretting my decision not to see a Bond movie in London.

So why is this??  Why can’t I just feel good about what I’m doing?  How can I reach a place of acceptance??

While the above examples are all specific to today, I deal with these feelings every moment of every day wherever I am and whatever I’m doing.  I never feel like I’m in the right place or doing the right thing.  And that has to change.

I think I’ve become more aware of these feelings thanks to the book I’m currently reading – Flatscreen, by Adam Wilson (the perfect Newton novel).  In it, I have met my polar opposite.  Someone I can learn a lot from.  Eli, a young man who lives a life of wasted time.  And (for now at least) he seems largely OK with it.  Sweet contentment.  Gotta get me some of that.

Maybe I don’t need to go out walking today.  Maybe I should just draw a bath and read.  That’s sounds more like what Eli would do.  But even typing it gets the guilt flowing.  Oy.

So I guess I’ll go out.  I wrote the damn emails.  I wrote another damn blog post.  So there it is – I feel a tiny bit better at the moment.

Just a shred of guilt left, and for a change it’s not internal.

In putting this therapy session out there I fear I’ve wasted some of your time.

And for that I sincerely apologize.