Time. What is it? It is one thing which to me is boundless. It will carry on even when my body has stopped and maybe have dissolved into the ground. It is what we use to measure our lives. The tick tock of clock hands and the silent displays of the digital clocks its servants, lashing a whip on my back everytime I let things slip.
Not exactly.
Time is the one slipping between my fingers like sand while i clench harder to hold on to it. I want to make it go with me, arms around shoulders like buddies with nothing better to do but stroll around a busy street, make jokes and checking out ladies.
Me: "Oh she's nice!"
Time: "No! I like her..."
Thats not happening either.
Today while returning from the
library I nearly walked into a car coming out of an obscure corner. But the driver stopped and nodded at me to pass. People have time for people. That is wonderful to see. It reminded me quickly of Dhaka, in 2004 I think, when a car almost got touchy touchy cause me and Ashu (who was visiting from UK) were walking on the side of the road! Not even a rude honk to let us know its behind, just crept up behind us too close for comfort. And to make the situation totally priceless I was telling Ashu at that moment how people in Bangladesh seem to have no time for other people anymore. Just busy with themselves. Oh Well.
Time management is big business now even. If I could afford it, I don't know whether I would get a consultant into my life or something. I totally am bad at it (trying to avoid "sucks"). I am sleepy for more than half of each day, which I have a feeling might be helped if i start getting physically active again. Maybe get into squash (too expensive) or jogging (too boring). Maybe.
Well, come to think of it, even as i am typing out this post, i am actually wasting my time! Considering how far behind i am with my term project's work. So, Maybe i will try to be wiser for the moment.... and... i am outta here.
Meanwhile,
Time, by Pink Floyd:
Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
You fritter and waste the hours in an off hand way
Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way
Tired of lying in the sunshine staying home to watch the rain
You are young and life is long and there is time to kill today
And then one day you find ten years have got behind you
No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun
And you run and you run to catch up with the sun, but it’s sinking
And racing around to come up behind you again
The sun is the same in the relative way, but you’re older
Shorter of breath and one day closer to death
Every year is getting shorter, never seem to find the time
Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desperation is the english way
The time is gone, the song is over, thought I’d something more to say
Home, home again
I like to be here when I can
And when I come home cold and tired
It’s good to warm my bones beside the fire
Far away across the field
The tolling of the iron bell
Calls the faithful to their knees
To hear the softly spoken magic spells.
