I've got nothing but time.

This week was the first of the new teaching block and of my unbelievably wide open new schedule. I have no class between 11 a.m. Wednesday and 4 p.m. Monday. How is that possible? Of course, that doesn't mean tons of free time as much as it means tons of time that I'm going to have to be really disciplined about using well. Still -- if anybody wants to go dancing, say, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and/or Saturday, I may very well be game.

It's both exciting and uncomfortable having so much unstructured time to deal with -- both during my weeks this term and in and the gigantic, gaping T.B.A. hole of life beyond Sept. 15. But I think it's a good exercise in figuring out how, exactly, I plan to justify my existence from here on out. Being busy can serve as a cop-out from dealing with big, scary existential questions sometimes -- if you can't afford to slow down and think about anything but work and the basics of life, you can ignore the big picture and its scary and unattractive features. Stop to catch your breath, though, and it hits you full in the face. It's all very well to fantasize during stressful times about what you would do with a big chunk of free time, but once it's handed to you, I don't think it's an unnatural impulse to want to hand it right back because it can be so intimidating. Time is a frighteningly valuable commodity, and as with all valuable commodities, it's easier to squander in little bits than in large quantities. Sitting on a larger-than-usual portion, the big question arises: what am I supposed to accomplish with my collected amount of time on earth -- the sum total of all the minutes, hours and days? And with the question comes the warning: if I haven't started yet -- if I don't start now -- I probably never will.

This is the heavy stuff that's been occupying my brain for the past week, and I've made some good resolutions as a result. I think I've been given these few months as a challenge, and I'm excited to see the outcome.