It’s a tiny, tiny risk.  I’ve decided to be on time.

I have been a few minutes late most of my life.  It’s not much, and it doesn’t seem to have any negative consequences.  Most of my friends are laid-back people; my church doesn’t frown on latecomers; my family puts up with me.  I always come through with what I’ve promised to do.  I just show up about three minutes late.

 In my professional life, I’ve taught myself to be on time.  In the theatre, nothing can start until everyone is there, and actors do get in trouble for being late.  I usually feel out the situation to see how lenient it is . . . but for the most part, I’m on time.

 So why is it so hard to be on time for other things? 

 I did some research (on WebMD, of all places), and discovered that there are two reasons people are late:  technical reasons, and psychological reasons.  The technical reasons have to do with not being able to estimate how long certain activities (like getting ready to go) will take.  The psychological reasons have to do with resisting authority, or with being afraid of the downtime you’ll have if you’re early.

 I figure I have all those issues, but the worst one is the fear of downtime.  I hate to be bored and unproductive, unless I’ve chosen the moment.  I can give myself downtime, but I don’t like having it imposed on me.  What if I get someplace five minutes early, and the event starts five minutes late?  That’s ten minutes of wasted time!!  Horror!

I think I have one more issue that makes me late, and it’s a matter of self-image.  I like to think of myself as busy, active, loving, and just a tiny bit loopy.  Just a tiny, tiny bit.  Mostly I like to think of myself as very grounded, but that little dollop of loopiness makes me fun (I like to think).  It manifests itself in many ways, particularly in my creative career, but one of those ways is my inability to be on time.

 So, by deciding to be on time, I risk letting go of a cherished self-image.  I risk letting go of my loopy self, who can’t walk out the door without forgetting something, and who always shows up about three minutes late.

Or maybe not.  Maybe my creativity can manifest itself elsewhere . . . and leave room for my solid, responsible self to be on time for the fun.

Carolyn Cook is a sometimes peaceful, sometimes frazzled individual who works to raise a daughter, build a marriage, and explore the human condition through theatre, art, music, history, literature, and relationship.
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