November 24, 2010 no friend of mine

"You may delay, but time will not"-Benjamin Franklin

Time has been on my mind a lot lately. This reeks of oddity. I am generally as unaware of its passing, as I am of the rapid oncoming of the events and appointments its passing causes to crash into me- colliding head on. Mostly I have become acutely aware of the fact that we never HAVE time.Neither do we command it, nor do we possess it. We merely choose to treasure it, or decide to reside in oblivion-land with regards to it. It has been argued in various schools of philosophy throughout the ages ,which pracice leads to a more abundantly lived life.

There are a number of things that I can say about time. Most of them have four letters and are words that I utter sparingly. I store them up for extra special all those within hearing distance (2.37 miles) can be quite sure that I mean them sincerely with passion, rancor, heartache and fury...or any combination of the aforementioned. These are the very words I reserve for the day that is so tragically exhausting, and devastatingly exasperating, that it has voraciously sucked my will to live from my now lifeless form- one excruciatingly painful drop at a time. I am left with only its venom pumping through my veins. Yes I DO spend too much time and energy on Eclipse Blood Diaries (vamp math) thank you very much... Those days that rob me blind, leaving me bereft of two brain cells to rub together...It is on these days, that the simplest of words... the ones that function as multiple, vividly, colorful parts of speech, the ones I immediately associate with my feelings for time-come rushing like a hurricane through a weakened dam, from my defeated, defenseless lips. a necessary evil. It is certainly no friend of mine. I have comprised a basic list of reasons why I would rather be locked in a small, door-less, white cushioned round room, with nothing to do but watch hour upon hour of Lifetime television with Nancy Grace, Rosie O'Donnell, and Nancy Pelosi- than to accept time into my inner circle.

Time, "the love I bear thee can afford no better term than this: thou art a villain."-Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

1. Time is unreliably illusive. What's the quote again? "A friend walks in when the rest of the world walks out?" Well since time goes sprinting toward the door like a receiver toward the end zone, just when you REALLY yearn for time with someone, or when you require time to complete something crucial? Like a preschooler on shot day, time is nowhere to be found. For this reason, illusive time belongs on the Deadbeat Friends List with Murphy...a healthy bounty on her head.

2. Time is cruel. get used to it, you get used to the fact that when you need time to linger, she, in fickle fashion-leaves you defenseless. There you wait in futility-Emily Dickinson style, dress and all...alone at the altar of life. The one redeeming aspect, to this shady trait of time's (or so you think), is that when you have something tedious to do, something that you are dreading...then, at the very least-time will race speedily by. At least your suffering will be brief. Hold up. Here comes the cruel part. At the very moment, when beads of sweat are breaking out on your pretty little brow. When you are entering into fight or flight mode, and look to time for a reprieve...At that very instant, she alters the rules. She laughs maniacally in your sweet, panic stricken  face and takes a seat-making herself comfortable, kicking back-watching you squirm. And she sits, and she sits, savoring your misery. The flavor of it is so sweet on her arsenic-laced lips. See? I told you time is harsh.

3. Time is a schizophrenic clepto. Generally, time saunters through your life and uses her long sticky fingers to glob onto and snatch away that which you hold most dear. She sticks them treasure by treasure, surreptitiously in her bag the hue of the night sky, adorned with all the constellations in the galaxy. She has no need of the things she thieves, still she takes them because she can...and because YOU need them. She displays all of her stolen items in her vast mansion of infinite splendor, like a glass menagerie. The people and animals and friendships beloved and treasured by you and me, are all on display for her to glance at casually on her way to obtain more figures for her collection. Rarely however, a miraculous change occurs in time. Every once in a while, time's benevolent Mother Mary (full of grace)-like personality steps in and subjugates the wretched wickedly fickle clepto side. She only does this sporadically, so that you don't get too comfortable. But every so often, time gives you the bright, unexpected glimmering gift of herself. She is wrapped in gleaming unexpected hope, tied up in a bow of brilliant ruby. Selectively time allows you to drink in a moment with someone you cherish. She provides enough substance for you to inhale the moment deep into your lungs. The warm feeling of adoration seeps through your entirety. In its richness, that moment becomes more than a moment, it becomes a part of you. These gifted moments validate our daily struggles and answer all of our most troubling questions. It is this one...tiny, unpredictable aspect of time...that makes up for all of her unseemly, unbecoming ways. Makes us wish-beg even, for her to stay with us. This singular power that she possesses causes us to barter, plea...sacrifice ANYTHING in order for her to consider us worthy of such a generous gift.

All this said, I might as well accept time's existence, she isn't going anywhere. I won't embrace time. no friend of mine. And while I am subject to time's shiftiness, her ambiguity, her cruelty, and her occasional generosity... you can't make me like doesn't matter. Ever on she rages.

Here are some things that peeps with minds far superior to mine, had to say about time:

Clocks slay time... time is dead as long as it is being clicked off by little wheels; only when the clock stops does time come to life.  ~William Faulkner

As if you could kill time without injuring eternity.  ~Henry David Thoreau

The clock talked loud.  I threw it away, it scared me what it talked.  ~Tillie Olsen

Men talk of killing time, while time quietly kills them.  ~Dion Boucicault