“Time is subjective”. I think that’s what my mum once said to me in an attempt to explain the word ‘subjective’. I used to repeat the phrase because I thought it sounded intelligent. If I’m being honest, I still do this- plagiarise facts told by people I trust. Vegans need creatine supplements because it is only found in red meats? Okay, passionate-vegan-hating brother. I’ll tell my friends when the topic arises.
As with most lofty concepts, it takes time to construct a solid understanding, like plastering the walls of a mud-brick house. I accepted prima facie that time is more than the rhythm of the clock’s hand. It is an experience: the wait was long, the ride was short. But Spring Break operates on its own distinctive holiday time. I have all the time in the world, until the clock strikes nine and I have around three more hours until bedtime. I’m trying to train myself to wake up with the sun- it’ll be of use next quarter when I have my 8:00am classes. And I just like the idea of aligning myself with the natural cycle of the day. When I grow up, I want to be a morning person.
Anyhow, the day is extended, like a string of dough in my hands. With this freedom, I am so present walking by the neighbourhood houses, detecting pine and sweet blossoms in the air. I think about where I might want to live and work, where I might want my children to grow up. I read my book, I read the newspaper someone’s left on the table in Starbucks and I enjoy every human encounter. Costco employee, Apple genius, the man with his granddaughter in his arms. She waves goodbye enthusiastically until they walk far enough to disappear from view. I see a father pushing the shopping cart with his two daughters sitting up front, flying across the parking lot. I see a tattooed gentleman pull his wife back for a kiss before they depart and enter into different stores. In the absence of real responsibilities, I let the space be filled with life. In the stillness, my mind wanders. I want to learn the history of everything. I need to know of the battles that occurred in Cyprus, the details of the Victorian era. I want to read the works of Plato and Emily Dickinson, learn to cook red Thai curry shrimp. I want to absorb Ella Fitzgerald’s music and channel her feeling, understand encryption and watch John Oliver. Give me more time so I can do it all.