torsdag 6. desember 2012

Tick, tock, time to rock.

Time... What is time? Tick, tock, tick, tock, there goes the clock.
Eniwei. Time's an interesting little thingamajig. I mean, after all, you count work time... But not free time. So what's really the point of it? Stressing people out with deadlines and such?
Some people think of time as a line - things will never repeat themselves, and everything that is done, is done. Others think of it as a circle - a continuous pattern, always repeating itself exactly. But what do I think? Myself, I think of it as a middle thing - a spiral. Things do repeat, but not always in the manner that we expect, nor the amount of time we think it will. Nor are they regular, or even remembered, occasionally. (Though I can give no example of this.) I do not like the thought of a circle, for it implies fate, and that we have no choice of our own action. Nor do I like the line, because it means that nothing will ever happen again that way, and I am quite certain that events do, to a certain degree, repeat themselves - only not in ways that we tend to anticipate.
I suppose that the point of time - as in, a way to tell it - is for our own sanity. Humans as a species are very concerned with time, and it can be very difficult for us if we do not know what it is. An example of this can be taken from one of my own experiences - Camp Refugee. Under no circumstances will I ever return there, but I learned there. One of the rules that was learned was, for instance, that at Camp Refugee, it is always 7 o'clock. Always. At Camp Refugee, I and many others spent 24 hours as refugees, with no food, and only the water that we brought ourselves. We walked almost the entire night, and when morning came once more and we were gathered again, we readily believed that we had walked four and a half miles. Why? Because it felt that way. The combination of not knowing what time it was, and having to walk all day and all night made it feel that way.
How far had we actually walked? 7 kilometers. 7. A distance that I, at the time, would walk to get to and from school, in what would take an hour or so. Time, or rather the lack of knowing the time, had distorted our feeling of distance, so that it felt as though we had walked longer than we had.
Lastly, there is the curious thing about time, in that if you are having fun, it seems to pass faster, while if you are bored, it passes slower. Time is not set in stone. The older you are, the faster it passes. The more you dread something, the faster time passes to that point. The more fun you have, the faster it passes. And vice versa, in all cases.

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