Secret Cartography: UNDEAD THEME WEEK IS UNDEAD

President's Day (which was on the 18th - who knew?) was the nationally recognized date of George Washington's birthday, until it was graciously expanded to include those presidents who could not throw knives into Heaven. Washington grew up in a time when duels were still an established way to settle arguments, and it was not unheard of for firearms to explode in your hand, leaving you a smoking rag of muscle where there once were fingers. And then he fought, single-handedly, the forces of a mad king to free America, or whatever.

Holidays are an important way that I navigate my life, because God knows I'm incapable of doing it on my own. All the same, their irregularity is something of a bête noire with me - it seems like they come at a staccato pace at some points in the year, with birthdays leading up to unofficial anniversaries bleeding into major holidays. Thanksgiving itself is the beachhead of these assaults, burning away the gentle memories I have of ever-distant Halloween (a holiday which I have yet to spend sober), and then as soon as the leftovers are disposed of, it's off to buy Christmas presents and arrange New Year's parties. Similarly, this time of year is marked adagio, with angsty Valentine's being the only day which even offers any turbulence to our flight. Would you like a beverage? Pillow? Towel? Our in-flight movie will be Final Destination.

As surely as we navigate language (and what navigating you had to do with my last post! Oh dear, it was terrible.) and landscape, we also navigate time. Thank the stars for their own cyclical nature, because it's these observable patterns that allow us to locate ourselves in time. Where would we be, for instance, if every day was unpredictable? If weather moved according to it's own whims? We are creatures built on patterns and predictability, who depend on the knowledge that it snows in month X (lousy Smarch weather) and it's always sunny in month Y (also, Philadelphia), and so disruption in these schedules make us sub-prime, take away the comfort of knowing what to expect. Just as all rebellion is inherently conformist, we have to see that we go through time as meticulously as any lost traveler follows a map through a foreign country - that is, maybe kinda in the right direction, though also very easily getting lost and maybe finding a delightful little place to spend an afternoon. Or maybe going to prison! Yay for being lost!

Holidays, though, serve as the places on our maps where we can get back to where we're going; they take us out of the doldrums of mindless space and back onto the main stage, where we can participate again with our culture at large. How you spend your holidays is almost as important as participating in them, with the only important thing to do being to take advantage of the opportunity to do something unusual. Valentine's day can be spent with your sweety, yes, but how much more interesting is someone who drives two hours out of their way to buy a unique shoe, or begins a new health regimen instead of bitching about their loneliness?

All in all, dullness is always a measure of self, or rather, if you're bored, then you're boring. The most interesting people I know are always the ones who are up to something, even if they're just sitting and staring at a wall, they're up to something. To admit to boredom is admitting that you've stopped, that you're afraid to go astray in time, and such timidity stems from a desire to do only good, to ably progress down a preconceived correct path, when no such path exists. Budget your time, yes, but do not allow your natural inclination to temporal frugality to override your sense of actually going out there and having a good time of it. After all, tempus fuggits when you're having fun.