noun \ˈtīm\

1)

a the measured or measurable period during which an action, process, or condition exists or continues : duration

b a non-spatial continuum that is measured in terms of events which succeed one another from past through present to future

2) the point or period when something occurs : occasion

3)

a : an appointed, fixed, or customary moment or hour for something to happen, begin, or end <arrived ahead of time>

b : an opportune or suitable moment <decided it was time to retire> —often used in the phrase about time <about time for a change>

No I’m not talking about the magazine. And I will report there were 11 other definitions. But these were the ones that struck me most. I’m a little intimidated defining and writing about something that so rules our day-to-day lives. It’s a lofty goal; but I don’t mean to challenge it in the least. In fact, I’m kind of in awe in it. It’s a completely versatile idea. There are moments when you want it to slow down, speed up, never end… Time can be your enemy and time can save you. But I’m struck by how often awareness and time intersect…or don’t. This past week felt like one of the longest weeks I’ve lived. I’m not sure why; it’s not anything particular. Perhaps it was just the monotony of routine. 50 minute classes or 1 hr and 15 minute classes? 30 minute lunch or hour long lunch? 4 hours of sleep or 30 minute nap? 40 minute show or 3 hours of homework? They all have to add up somewhere in the 24 hours we’re told are “a days time.” Sometimes I truly wish there were more, because how the hell are we supposed to get all of our work done?

This week I had only the weekend ( and the women’s hockey NESCAC championship ) to look forward to. But Sunday morning all the way til Friday night is a long time. I am now aware of this. Minutes felt like hours, and hours felt like days; it’s a formula for monotony. But then you take a step back and realize sometimes we’re just racing so quickly toward a fixed endpoint that we miss out on the time that we’re given. We don’t even enjoy it because we’re too focused on the moment that the clocks big hand hits 12 and the little hand hits 5. In my monotonous reverie this week I was wondering when exactly the awareness kicks in in childhood. When is the moment we snap out of our adventure and realize we’re late for dinner? Or realize that its bedtime? Damn the day that happens.  Time aids us in our loss of innocence. Strangely enough, the first time I truly panicked about time…was during my first viewing of The Wizard of Oz when I was around 4. It was the part where the Wicked Witch of the West displays that hourglass while Dorothy is trapped in her tower. At the same time it keeps cutting back to the rest of the gang rescuing Dorothy. And it always cuts back to that dreaded hourglass with its ever falling red sand…

And it is time that decays the memories we create in childhood. But there are those moments that “ time flies” and you immerse yourself in well, life. And you wake up and you’re 20 years old and you’re not quite sure how you got there. Did time fly? Or have we just been racing towards some future?  Sure it’s abstract as can be. But at the end of 24 hours…it’s inevitable.