January 17, 2000 I simply don't understand what's happening with time. Not so long ago, time ambled about, lethargic, sedentary, and amply stocked with extra hours to waste. Back then, to me, time was simply an indicator of bedtime, mealtime, bathtime, playtime, quiettime, and the occassional time-out. Time was just a clock. But as time has worn on, it has become more and more apparent to me that time is not a clock. A clock is just a fancy schmancy mask that time wears to try and deceive us all into thinking that time is perfectly in control of itself. Oh sure, we are to think time knows where it's at. See, looky here, it says it's exactly ten past nine, or half past twelve, or a quarter to seven. All you need to do is look at time and time knows where it's at. Contraire, my friend. Time is far more smug than it is smart. Time, according to Jacques LeGoff, "used to be free of haste and careless of exactitude", but has since developed a nifty little price tag since capitalism reared its ugly head. Now, time is money. Time, in the words of Juliet Schor, "is a commodity." Yes, indeed, a commodity. Yet who sets the price? And who claims the dividends? And who, pray tell, controls the allotment of time? Do the very wealthy get the lion's share? Do the lower classes nibble on scraps of time wherever they can sniff them out? I'm betting time, itself, isn't getting a hill of beans out of this deal. Save time, use time wisely, timeless. If I had a bottle that could contain time, I would certainly save it. If I could foresee the wastefullness of my day in advance, I would most definately use time more wisely, and if I could exist for more than 30 seconds in a vacuum I would happily sport a daunting dose of timelessness. But instead, I am at the mercy of this new commodity. The mask of time cheerfully ticks away in a most accusatory fashion. Tick ("you'll never see THAT second again, Missy")...Tock ("oops, there goes another one..and what do you have to show for THAT one, huh??") I could waste a precious 30 seconds of time just listening to it mocking me. I look for benchmarks..,indicators that time is being put to the best possible service. If I am busy, if I am scrambling to pack a day into a mere 24 hours, if I am controlled by my daytimer does this mean I am successful in the race against time? Am I winning? Or, if I have extra hours at the end of the day to lay about and contemplate time, does this mean I have been as successful as I might have been on my diet if I had found extra food on my plate after dinner that I simply couldn't eat?? Is spare time an indication of victory? And if I have extra hours left over and use this valuable commodity to lalydag about, lost in another episode of Ally McBeal, does this mean I have wasted time? Does cocking my head to one side in mild amazement as Ally and Ling share a passionate (but most definately NOT homosexual) kiss label me as one who can not be trusted with extra time? Must I turn from the television and bury my nose in financial planning textbooks to once again make myself worthy of this not-so-free free time? I don't want to appear ungrateful when a spare hour finds its way to my living room couch. I certainly don't want to do anything that might annoy time so much that it feels compelled to grace someone else with its surplus. Balance. Time spent, time earned, time banked. I'm terribly tempted to write "ying and yang" again, but I know better now. So I bow to correctness and carefully type YIN and YANG. (Apologies to all Chinese and other proponents of zen for my previous misuse of the term....but honestly, ying flows so much better than yin). I have resolved nothing today. I still don't know what's going on with time. But I know this...whatever the cost, I am paying more and affording less. And, one may say, the time spent on analyzing time, would not be the best use of my time. Home Back Ahead

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