Where has time flown? It seems like only yesterday that we moved here, but in reality it’s been three years. There are never enough hours in the day, we cry out in angst. Such comments are typical reactions we all encounter at some point in our lives.
It is 7:45 a.m. and you just arrived at the train station platform to wait for your train to take you to your job. After a few minutes you peek over the platform, eyeing the distance, when suddenly impatience takes over because your train is nowhere in sight. It seems like 15 minutes have gone by. Becoming edgy, you check your watch to discover you have been waiting a measly three minutes.
I also notice that New Yorkers particularly have a time fetish. They always seem to be running from somewhere to elsewhere. It almost never fails whenever I’m across the Hudson – someone stops me to ask what time it is. Am I the time bureau, I wonder?
And then time just drags on.
Another example that hit home for me recently was an instance at my writing group workshop. During a recent session, an open-ended prompt was suggested where we had 15 minutes to spontaneously write something that later was shared with the group.
This time the prompt was entitled “Dragging Your Feet.” When the starting time began, the following phrase made it to my paper: “Dragging your feet or dragging their feet is another way of saying get off the pot – make a decision. Why is it so difficult for some people to make a mere decision?”
Immediately thereafter I froze. Oh no, writer’s block, that shouldn’t have happened to me on this prompt because I was the one who suggested it. But there I was, mentally paralyzed. I finally managed to jot down a few more sentences. Thinking that the time alarm bell was ready to sound off, I asked the monitor how much time we had left. When her response was 11 more minutes, the group groaned unanimously.
Perhaps a more physically excruciating situation is setting goals for exercising. While these tend to be more commonplace around New Year’s resolution time, when gym membership sales soar, it can be anytime you set goals to shed those extra pounds.
Beginning with the treadmill, you say to yourself, “I’ll time myself for 30 minutes.” Starting the equipment and watching the seconds tick away, you begin your brisk walk, moving faster as the built in clock forges ahead. Breathing heavier, you build up to a trot. Then you put on your music headset to mentally tune out this grinding chore. Assuming that 20 minutes must have gone by, you bravely look at the time gauge to discover it’s been only five minutes.
We have to ask ourselves why, especially in American society, we are so preoccupied with time. It hangs over our heads from the moment we rise until bedtime.
The concept of time originated in ancient societies, and I suppose we should be indebted to these civilizations for bringing some sort of order into our lives.
Frankly, however, this modern-day obsession can sometimes be a real royal pain. – Elaine Kabat
Elaine Kabat is a frequent contributor. Send us your essays or comments to: current@hudsonreporter.com.