Life without our conventional understanding of time would look very different.
Alan Burdick's "The Secret Life of Time" got me thinking about something that I often ponder when I'm procrastinating or stressing about a deadline. In these moments, I entertain myself by attempting to unravel our social construct of time, and usually conclude that the deadline that I'm sweating over doesn't even exist, and it's not worth the effort or stress it takes to meet it. It may be an unhealthy rationalization for turning things in late, but it does allow some space for my mind to run free. My analysis won't be as intelligent as St. Augustine's, but I think we're basically on the same page.
If you think about it (with an open mind), what we call 'time' doesn't really exist at all. Let's start with seconds. You've probably taken around 3 (+/- 1) seconds to read this sentence, which seems very tangible to you (If you're wondering how long three seconds is, check out my first blog post here). But really, what is this thing we call a "second"? Yes, it's a sixtieth of a minute, which is the formal definition (it actually comes from the periodicity of radiation of the cesium-133 atom but forget about that for a second and just go with me here). So a second is one sixtieth of a minute... But what is a minute? Well that's one sixtieth of an hour.. Which is one twenty-fourth of "day", which is one three hundred sixty fifth of a "year" (except when it's not), which is one tenth of a decade... and so on.
So what part of our concept of time is truly concrete? You may argue that our idea of a "day" is our most reliable breakdown of time, based on the Earth's changing position with respect to the Sun. To this, I only partially agree. Yes, our idea of a day successfully takes into account an object outside of our immediate surroundings - the sun. But the "time that it takes to go from daytime to nighttime to daytime" is anything but concrete. In reality, the length of a day changes continuously. The differences are miniscule, but they are there, nevertheless. If you don't believe me, see for yourself here. For now, let's just say that every day is 24 hours exactly, and in that time, the Sun appears to make one complete rotation around the Earth (No this is not what is actually happening, this is why I used the word appears, but try to see the larger picture). Would this justify our creation of a "day"? I don't think so. Why does one day = one sun cycle? Why not two cycles, or three? We could still sleep at "night", but we'd have to sleep three times before we'd reach the next "day". Think about it.
When I'm seeking to relieve myself from stress and rationalize my procrastination, I find comfort in the idea that hours, minutes, and seconds don't really exist. There is no such thing as a December 1st deadline - it's just a convenient little box we put things in to help us stay organized. That's all time is. I'm not talking about time as a universal force or dimension, but mankind's creation. It's been forced on us and we've taken it in, materialized it, and worked it into the fabric of our existence. We use it to categorize, separate, and document periods and instances for our supposed personal benefit, but most of the time it acts as a constant reminder that our life ticks closer to its end with every second. Earth, the solar system, the universe - these elements of our environment don't need clocks, calendars or stopwatches to function properly. They run on real, organic time, which in my opinion we know very little about. What if true time isn't linear, and is circular instead? Maybe our understanding of this complex force has blinded us from reality. Maybe we should abandon time altogether. Maybe that's the key to true peace and happiness.
I hope you've enjoyed this ride on my train of thought, but unfortunately our excursion must end here. If you're reading this, you're likely dealing with this oppressive force called time in one of two ways. You are either 1) Dealing with the post-traumatic stress that came from trying to finish your college applications and/or your blog post before midnight on December 1st, or 2) rushing to finish your 6 comments before the end of the night on Sunday, December 3rd. Whatever your personal situation may be, remember this when you begin to panic over that deadline, appointment time, or morning alarm - the time that you're stressing over doesn't really exist. You are free. You have the choice to follow the guidelines that society has laid out for you, or not. Real time is controlled by you, and you alone. You are late if you decide you are late, not because a clock tells you so. Life without time is bliss. Take some time and enjoy that ignorance.
Thursday, November 30, 2017
Friday, November 10, 2017
What I Think About: Eating in Class
Eating in class is a terrifying, embarrassing, and infuriating experience.
I'm going to do my best to paint a picture of a scenario that I think everyone can relate to. Let's say that you're in a room full of unfamiliar faces, listening to a lecture in a classroom. It's almost noon, so your stomach is telling you that it needs food, but you ignore it's message since no one else is eating. You know that students are allowed to eat in this classroom, and you've already watched one student eat his lunch, but you're nervous because you packed a spicy Chicken Tikka Masala for lunch and you know its smell will encapsulate the classroom, and you're also aware of your slightly underdeveloped eating skills which you're extremely self-conscious about. Unfortunately, your stomach doesn't appreciate your nervousness, and it begins to complain, audibly. All the sudden, the tranquility of the classroom is disrupted by a deep and angry "ggggggrrrrRRRRRRrrrrr", and you look around the classroom to make sure no one is judging you. Thankfully, nobody appears to be disturbed, so you relax a bit and lean back in your chair. Your stomach has now changed positions, however, and shows its displeasure by letting out a viscous growl, which you try to cover up by faking a cough and sneezing a few times. This time, the peer sitting across from you notices, and you catch a glance from him just as he turns his head back to the front of the classroom. Hoping to avoid further embarrassment, you decide to check in your backpack for a snack. The "zzzzzrrrruupp" of your backpack's zipper has once again ruptured the silence, but you tolerate the noise, knowing that relief lies ahead. Tucked away in the secret snack compartment of your bookbag is a sandwich bag full of saltine crackers, your favorite. You slowly pull them out of your bag, open the bag, and bring the first cracker to your mouth, before pausing. The room has fallen silent again, and the lecturer's monotonous voice has put almost to sleep. You know that if you bite into this cracker, you will instantly regret it, because not only will the majority of the cracker turn to crumbles - you will also make a powerful crunch due to your slightly oversized front teeth. Sweat begins to trickle down your arms, your stomach begins to warn of a growl, and your hands begin to shake. You know that this is a pivotal moment. You close your eyes, say a quick prayer, and bite into the cracker, slowly. Crumbs fly, landing on your peer's notebook, but he isn't taking notes anyway. The crackers were stale and didn't break with a loud noise. You almost laugh out loud at your luck, but your joy is interrupted by a realization: The salty cracker has made you thirsty, and now you need to take a drink of water. This is a whole new task, and one that requires a completely separate set of skills. Not only must you open your water bottle quietly, but you must also drink and swallow without blowing your cover. You look around again - Isabelle, the A+ student in the front row, is dead asleep - the coast is clear. Swiftly, you grab the stainless steel water bottle in front of you and take a swig, carefully replacing the lid and placing it back on the table. Almost there. But the most difficult task remains; you must swallow. The good news is that the water is cold, and refreshing. The bad news is that you've waited too long to swallow, and now you're only option is to take a 'gulp' because you didn't drink and swallow in short succession. You know this, and try to hold the water in your mouth for a few moments, but it soon becomes lukewarm and mixes with your saliva, which you think is gross, so you swallow. It is a loud one, but once again, nobody seems to notice. You can't believe your luck - but unfortunately it is about to change. The water in your system has alarmed your stomach, and it once again reminds you that it has not been satisfied, making an embarrassing "SSSCCrrrreeeeEEEEET" noise this time. The classmate to your right finds this funny. Amused, she asks, "You hungry?", and all you can do is nod in shame. You tell your stomach "SHUTUP" in your head, and it responds with two more thunderous groans. You've had it - the teacher has pointed you out, and Isabelle has turned around just so she can laugh at you. You decide that it's time to go for it; you grab the Tupperware container with the tikka masala and plop it down in front of you. You open the lid with a "brrrraap" and place it on the side. Everyone is awake now, and the smell is overwhelming. You try to mask it by replacing the lid, but the scent has already been unleashed - everyone knows you're eating, and now you're petrified and want to throw up. Your stomach is a whiney little brat, though, and you know you have to feed it. So, with great courage, you sit up straight, pick up your fork, and begin your meal. You start by mixing the food, which turns out to be a grave mistake. You packed the food in too tight, so as soon as you begin to mix in the chicken, some of the rice and gravy spills out. You freeze but keep from panicking, and look for a napkin. You don't have any. There's a box of tissues nearby, but it's in the second row next to Patrick who has a bad cold and has infected the entire tissue box with his grubby, snot-covered fingers. You decide that going for the tissues is not a viable option, and settle with leaving the spilled food on the table like a poorly trained toddler at dinner. Having abandoned your attempts at mixing in the food, you now proceed to eating the rice. You think it will be easy, since there's no sauce and it doesn't have a strong smell. Ignorantly, you bring the rice up to your mouth too quickly, and when you close your mouth to secure the food, the rice jumps off your fork and lands in the drool of your classmate who has now fallen asleep again. About 35% of the rice has made it into your mouth - the rest has dispersed itself across your upper lip, chin, and across the table. You look up, still holding the fork in your mouth, praying that nobody notices. You scan the room and find no other than a giggling Snoopy Susan, looking back at you from the 3rd row with her annoying face, peering into your business once again. You're mad now, and decide to take it out on the spicy chicken. You inhale it, and the class gets the impression that there's a rabid dog in the back of the classroom. They turn around to discover that it's just you, which they meet with a disgusted face. But you don't care; you've had your meal, and you've calmed your stomach. Or have you?
"FRRRRAAAPP" "SKIYYYYAP" "ShrreeeeeIIIYAA" "BrrrrIDOOObrrrAPP"
Your stomach has begun to speak again, but it's message is quite different this time around. Your Indian lunch has not pleased your stomach - and it is letting its displeasure be known. You now face a new set of challenges, but I will spare the details - I'm sure that you can imagine the rest.
This scenario is more common than not, unfortunately. Eating in public is a scary, scary thing. Many will never master this art, given the fact that it is practically impossible to do it without embarrassing yourself. Someday, however, I hope that I will get to the point where I may lose my fear of eating in public, and never have to experience a story like this one.
I'm going to do my best to paint a picture of a scenario that I think everyone can relate to. Let's say that you're in a room full of unfamiliar faces, listening to a lecture in a classroom. It's almost noon, so your stomach is telling you that it needs food, but you ignore it's message since no one else is eating. You know that students are allowed to eat in this classroom, and you've already watched one student eat his lunch, but you're nervous because you packed a spicy Chicken Tikka Masala for lunch and you know its smell will encapsulate the classroom, and you're also aware of your slightly underdeveloped eating skills which you're extremely self-conscious about. Unfortunately, your stomach doesn't appreciate your nervousness, and it begins to complain, audibly. All the sudden, the tranquility of the classroom is disrupted by a deep and angry "ggggggrrrrRRRRRRrrrrr", and you look around the classroom to make sure no one is judging you. Thankfully, nobody appears to be disturbed, so you relax a bit and lean back in your chair. Your stomach has now changed positions, however, and shows its displeasure by letting out a viscous growl, which you try to cover up by faking a cough and sneezing a few times. This time, the peer sitting across from you notices, and you catch a glance from him just as he turns his head back to the front of the classroom. Hoping to avoid further embarrassment, you decide to check in your backpack for a snack. The "zzzzzrrrruupp" of your backpack's zipper has once again ruptured the silence, but you tolerate the noise, knowing that relief lies ahead. Tucked away in the secret snack compartment of your bookbag is a sandwich bag full of saltine crackers, your favorite. You slowly pull them out of your bag, open the bag, and bring the first cracker to your mouth, before pausing. The room has fallen silent again, and the lecturer's monotonous voice has put almost to sleep. You know that if you bite into this cracker, you will instantly regret it, because not only will the majority of the cracker turn to crumbles - you will also make a powerful crunch due to your slightly oversized front teeth. Sweat begins to trickle down your arms, your stomach begins to warn of a growl, and your hands begin to shake. You know that this is a pivotal moment. You close your eyes, say a quick prayer, and bite into the cracker, slowly. Crumbs fly, landing on your peer's notebook, but he isn't taking notes anyway. The crackers were stale and didn't break with a loud noise. You almost laugh out loud at your luck, but your joy is interrupted by a realization: The salty cracker has made you thirsty, and now you need to take a drink of water. This is a whole new task, and one that requires a completely separate set of skills. Not only must you open your water bottle quietly, but you must also drink and swallow without blowing your cover. You look around again - Isabelle, the A+ student in the front row, is dead asleep - the coast is clear. Swiftly, you grab the stainless steel water bottle in front of you and take a swig, carefully replacing the lid and placing it back on the table. Almost there. But the most difficult task remains; you must swallow. The good news is that the water is cold, and refreshing. The bad news is that you've waited too long to swallow, and now you're only option is to take a 'gulp' because you didn't drink and swallow in short succession. You know this, and try to hold the water in your mouth for a few moments, but it soon becomes lukewarm and mixes with your saliva, which you think is gross, so you swallow. It is a loud one, but once again, nobody seems to notice. You can't believe your luck - but unfortunately it is about to change. The water in your system has alarmed your stomach, and it once again reminds you that it has not been satisfied, making an embarrassing "SSSCCrrrreeeeEEEEET" noise this time. The classmate to your right finds this funny. Amused, she asks, "You hungry?", and all you can do is nod in shame. You tell your stomach "SHUTUP" in your head, and it responds with two more thunderous groans. You've had it - the teacher has pointed you out, and Isabelle has turned around just so she can laugh at you. You decide that it's time to go for it; you grab the Tupperware container with the tikka masala and plop it down in front of you. You open the lid with a "brrrraap" and place it on the side. Everyone is awake now, and the smell is overwhelming. You try to mask it by replacing the lid, but the scent has already been unleashed - everyone knows you're eating, and now you're petrified and want to throw up. Your stomach is a whiney little brat, though, and you know you have to feed it. So, with great courage, you sit up straight, pick up your fork, and begin your meal. You start by mixing the food, which turns out to be a grave mistake. You packed the food in too tight, so as soon as you begin to mix in the chicken, some of the rice and gravy spills out. You freeze but keep from panicking, and look for a napkin. You don't have any. There's a box of tissues nearby, but it's in the second row next to Patrick who has a bad cold and has infected the entire tissue box with his grubby, snot-covered fingers. You decide that going for the tissues is not a viable option, and settle with leaving the spilled food on the table like a poorly trained toddler at dinner. Having abandoned your attempts at mixing in the food, you now proceed to eating the rice. You think it will be easy, since there's no sauce and it doesn't have a strong smell. Ignorantly, you bring the rice up to your mouth too quickly, and when you close your mouth to secure the food, the rice jumps off your fork and lands in the drool of your classmate who has now fallen asleep again. About 35% of the rice has made it into your mouth - the rest has dispersed itself across your upper lip, chin, and across the table. You look up, still holding the fork in your mouth, praying that nobody notices. You scan the room and find no other than a giggling Snoopy Susan, looking back at you from the 3rd row with her annoying face, peering into your business once again. You're mad now, and decide to take it out on the spicy chicken. You inhale it, and the class gets the impression that there's a rabid dog in the back of the classroom. They turn around to discover that it's just you, which they meet with a disgusted face. But you don't care; you've had your meal, and you've calmed your stomach. Or have you?
"FRRRRAAAPP" "SKIYYYYAP" "ShrreeeeeIIIYAA" "BrrrrIDOOObrrrAPP"
Your stomach has begun to speak again, but it's message is quite different this time around. Your Indian lunch has not pleased your stomach - and it is letting its displeasure be known. You now face a new set of challenges, but I will spare the details - I'm sure that you can imagine the rest.
This scenario is more common than not, unfortunately. Eating in public is a scary, scary thing. Many will never master this art, given the fact that it is practically impossible to do it without embarrassing yourself. Someday, however, I hope that I will get to the point where I may lose my fear of eating in public, and never have to experience a story like this one.
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