Time is a strange, strange thing. It's man made, which is very odd to me. It seems like something as important as time should have already had a system made up for itself. And I guess it did, what with seasons and all.
But really, I don't know that time works in the way we would like it to. I mean, I can count off seconds, and that means that so many "seconds" have passed. And that means that something has changed with the relation of the earth to the sun or moon or something or other, or however we made up "time." But time in my life just isn't that cut and dry.
I guess I should just get to the point, which has to do with my girlfriend leaving for four months. She left last Friday, so last week was our "last" week together. We tried to spend time doing things we love to do together: Ms.Pacman, piano, Yats, Rhonda's Custard, walks, talks, and just generally being around each other. That week just flew by. Seriously, it was like I blinked and all of a sudden she's off through security at the airport. And the second she went through that metal detector, time just started slowing waaaaaaaaaay down.
This last week has felt so long. It sucks missing someone, and having no control over their safety and having to trust completely in them and in God that they will be safe. As if I have any control over that stuff anyways. But there's something about her being so far away that makes it worse. So the days just kind of slug along, and it's hard to say why.
And I'm not sure that it's a bad thing either. Usually when people talk about a long day, it's negative. Why is that? Why do bad days seem to take longer than good days? And why is it that when you're really doing something you love, time just ceases to exist? Sometimes when I'm playing piano, I have no sense of time and it's like I'm in some other world. It's hard to explain, but I'm sure everyone has this experience with something. It happens when you're having a good conversation with a friend, or maybe eating a nice bowl of Rhonda's Frozen Custard.
The other thing that makes time messed up, is that not everyone dies at the same age. So if I die when I'm thirty, and someone else dies at sixty, then one day in my life is a larger percentage of "day" for me, than the sixty year old. Each year is a thirtieth of my life, but a sixtieth of the other guy's. So how is it fair for us to use the same measure of "time?"
And as we get older, it would make sense that the days would seem like less and less. For instance, when you're one year old- that year should feel like forever, because it has been forever. But then when you're ten, that same year doesn't feel so long, because it's only a tenth of your life. So by the time you're ninety, a day is like nothing.
But not every day feels like that. Not every day is shorter than the one before it. Why not? Why can some days feel so long, and others just fly by. Especially when we know that the same amoount of minutes and seconds are in each day. Which is why it makes sense that after we die, we will all live forever. And all moments will be the same one, because there will be no measure of change. We'll all be who we are and everything will already be what it is, and time will become useless. Or maybe not. Who knows.
These are all rhetorical questions by the way, and I'm sorry if you've struggled to make sense of any of this. I'm not really trying to make sense, just rambling along here. The point of it all is that I miss my girlfriend. That's all.