I Come From Foreign

I’m late all the time. I have no perception of time. Time is for white people. It doesn’t work with me.”

~ Erykah Badu in in the new issue of Blender magazine

Amen, sister.

Most of y’all have heard of island time before. It’s about a half an hour, hour, two hours, behind what other people would deem “real time.”

Well I’m just here to go on record to say that island time is a beautiful, beautiful thing.

In general, people in foreign are much more punctual than us Caribbean folk and it’s definitely gotten me in trouble in the past.

That’s why I like California.

Nobody rushes here.

The East Coast (yup, even Miami) is all hustle and bustle and go, go, go. Out here in LA, we take it easy. Maybe the days are longer or something, I don’t know.

In its time, in its time. And that is a beautiful thing. Who wants to be a slave to a clock? Is that any way to live?

Doh rush me, nuh!

Much like the feisty Ms. Badu, I have no real concept of time. Actually, what it is is that I perceive time as a fluid entity–sometimes it goes fast, sometimes it goes slow, and at the end of the day you don’t know how it’s gonna roll so just sit back and let it be.

I could start getting ready to go out three hours beforehand and still not have enough time. On the other hand, I’ve gotten ready in as little as 10 minutes on some, albeit rare, occasions.

Dude, what’s the rush?

I’m decidedly anti-rush.

It kills my vibe.

You make me rush and you get mean Dan.

Mean Dan makes you late on purpose because you have disturbed the sanctity of her getting ready process.

And it is a process.

I’m not talking girly-wise with the hair and the make-up and the trying on three million outfits although I do that as well.

The process I’m talking about is about getting into the right mindset, psyching yourself up for what’s to come, drinking tea and deep long, cleansing breaths to calm your aura. It is a beautiful and necessary process and if it makes me two minutes, twenty minutes, or two hours late, so be it.

I guess my problem goes back to planning.

I see two hours and think, oh I can do this, this, and that, and then I’ll still have a half hour to get ready and that will be more than enough time. And then somehow it’s five minutes before we’re supposed to leave and I’m now jumping in the shower.

And I still won’t rush.

You rush me, you won’t really want me around for very long.

Being on time kind of makes me angry.

What is the benefit of being on time?

Everyone knows that getting ready is the most fun part of the going out process. Why deny me that delicious experience and substitute it for getting to a half-empty place where the vibe hasn’t even been set yet and everyone’s waiting around for everyone else to get there and being awkward.

Noooooooooooooo thank you. What a waste.

But that doesn’t mean I’m aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalways late. Sometimes it’s not your shit going on and you have to suck it up and be respectful of others.

In those times, I try really really really hard to be on time. I’ll start my process four hours before so I’m in the right frame of mind to take on whatever it is I have to deal with next.

In those times, the bf will generally stick his head around every 15 minutes or so to remind me that time is actually passing and forward motion is required.

In those times, I don’t like it very much.