I remember the way I thought about time as a child. OK, vaguely, and I’m not that old, but it was different. When I was eight or younger, five minutes was a long time, not to mention an hour. And a year? Are we talking an eternity? I was aware of time: when I had to go to bed, when my father came home, and that kind of thing. However, I was much more free from time. I didn’t have responsibility and obligations. I didn’t have to make a schedule, nor did I have much of one to keep. My first watch did more to make me feel “grown up” than anything else.
But I grew up. Slowly, the hours and years got shorter. I had things to do and often felt like I didn’t have enough time to do them in, especially in college.
I think for most people, getting up on Monday morning becomes more difficult the highschool years. Unless you are a morning person, this is your friend:
The snooze button is actually the enemy.
Right now, time is both fast and slow for me. The minutes, hours, and days go by, but I’m still waiting on things to happen in my life. Waiting, and plotting to speed up the process.
Next Week: most likely, more fireworks