About Time

The older I get, the faster time moves. It’s not fair, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I can’t start a petition. I can’t create a union and call for a strike. I’d file an injunction, but that would just tempt me to make a fancy word play out of it like, “There’s a malfunction at the junction so I’m calling an injunction on this disfunction” and get thrown out of the courtroom.

Can’t resist a good word play.

I can’t remember how old I was, maybe six or seven, but I was watching television one night and realized the hockey game didn’t start until 7:30. The current time was about 6:45.

Well, Little Paul made the decision that he was going to sleep, instead of waiting around for the game to start. He walked to the staircase, said goodnight to his parents in the other room, and went to bed.

Because at the time, 45 minutes felt like an eternity. I wasn’t going to wait. What was I going to do? Shine a flashlight at my belly button to kill time?

Time moved so slowly back then. Every school day was so long. Getting from 9AM to Noon felt like a big chunk out of my life. A few years ago, in Ontario, they switched to full-day kindergarten, as opposed to half-day, which is what I grew up with.

I thought that was ridiculous because to a kid, half a day of school feels like forever. Multiply that by two and it’s forever-ever. I couldn’t imagine experiencing forever-ever at Age 4.

Would I still know what my mom looked like by the time she picked me up? It would have been so long since I last saw her.

I recently discovered that we never went more than 90 minutes indoors, before it was time for recess. That boggles my mind.

And then two of the three recesses were for 15 minutes. You know how much we accomplished in 15 minutes? So much! And yet, it was just 15 minutes.

You can’t even listen to Where The Streets Have No Name, three times, before having to go back inside.

I remember when they introduced the concept of speeches to us in Grade 4. Everyone had to pick a topic and talk in front of the class for 3-5 minutes.

Oh my holy custard cannoli. Five minutes!? You know how long that is!? We were terrified of that measure of time.

If a speech clocked in at 2:51, we’d all think of it as really short, but if you hit 3:15, you were a master at clock management. That’s only a 24-second difference. That’s about three sentences for a nervous 9-year-old.

Yet, 3:15 stood up as admirable, while 2:51 was a disappointment.

Those who went over four minutes were seen as having way too much to say. And if you went anywhere near the five minute mark, we might as well have put on a movie because it’s basically the same amount of time.

As an adult, three minutes is nothing. It’s like finding a nickel on the ground.

I don’t want to blame it on the era I grew up in and say smartphones bail us out in situations where we have to wait, or that by staring at a computer screen, we lose track of time.

All I know is, days move faster. It’s already 2019. It’s already March. You know how crazy this is?

I still remember the girl sitting next to me in Grade 9 french class, looking at her report card and pointing out the fact that it already said, “Expected Graduation: 2009”. We joked that “we just got here” and “the school was already trying to get rid of us”.

That was 14 years ago, thinking about 10 years ago. What?

It could just be me and my mind. I’ll remember the strangest things – moments that don’t stand out and would never make a history textbook.

It’s like I’m walking around with snapshots lodged in the back of my head, that make me feel closer to the time they happened, than the calendar says I am.

We have these sayings, “Don’t dwell on the past” and “Live in the moment” but we never stay in either one.

The saying should be, “Look ahead because that’s the only place you will always be.”

I think that quote just gave me Philosopher status. Let me enjoy it before it’s taken from me.

And, it’s gone.

I don’t know how to look ahead. I always hated the, “Where do you see yourself in 10 years?” question. How in the world are we supposed to know that? I don’t think we’re built to know the answer.

Sure, we can all say the things we hope our life looks like in ten years. We can all spew the same life dream built around education, family, good job, and a soft couch to nap on. But that just feels like the right answer, rather than the real answer.

Soft couches are not a guarantee and neither is a family of your own. Did you know that in order to get married, you have to find the one person in the world who will tolerate everything weird about you?

That’s pretty hard.

It’s almost as hard as finding three minutes of material to present to the class when you’re 9-years-old.

And that’s my time. You’ve been a great audience.

(I’ll give you a minute to realize how this concluding sequence was a metaphoric amalgamation, carefully worded to reinforce the theme of this entire post) 

Written while listening to: Do I – Luke Bryan. (Don’t ask)

How do you feel about the concept of time? Do you remember small moments that act as an anchor for a time in your life? What are your thoughts on the future?