The Use & Misuse Of Time

It is very easy to waste time. Some of us struggle more with this issue than others, and, it must be admitted, I am subject to that complex of feelings, views, and tendencies, which naturally cohabit and tend to have elective affinity with what experts have called the Lazy Bastard.

The lazy waste time like no other individuals. It is their special gift. They watch time fly by – unlike bird watchers or train spotters though, they do not relish this process, do not take out the binoculars to observe, and do not make notes about the events they have prevented from happening by letting things slide. That is the point. For time to waste, or escape, or fly by, the individual needs to be occupied in other ways. To have not noticed or spotted the chance leaking away. And so the lazy are constantly amazed at opportunities lost, potentialities not noted and acted upon, and then gone. The lazy recognise these losses – some more frequently than others – there are distinctions within the lazy community: the dangerously calm, the flower smellers, the lax, the incautious, the uncaring, the addicts, the stupid, and probably other subsets I could list but haven’t been able to recall and isolate and record … as I’ve got a little problem with motivation at the moment. I’m not feeling too energetic. Bit lazy, actually.

By the way, voir dire means an oath to tell the truth or to say what is true. It is used in courts in Commonwealth countries as a term to describe a trial within a trial about admissibility of evidence or competency of a witness or jury. Essentially, in Australian courts, it is bits of the trial which can’t be held in the presence of the jury, as bias could be an issue.

See, I can waste time. Just needed to look that up. Little bit distracted.

It seems that time can pass at varying speeds and is not uniform in the experience of the individual and, though I’m sure there are valid reasons to suggest that such an idea lacks rigor, merit, and even logic, it genuinely does seem as if some periods of life – years, months, days, even periods within a day – are brief and others super-quick. Waiting in a doctor’s waiting room takes ages for me, whereas pressured times in my life have galloped along, exams seeming like fifteen minutes or not much more, rather than three hours, say. At times when stress mingles with a clash of angry or confused or negative emotions in a couple or group of people it can seem like an event can pass slowly indeed. That’s the tension, the not knowing. But violence can make time go quick. Murderers, of the crime of passion stripe, often can’t remember what happened when the deed was done, and that isn’t solely because of various types of intoxicants which typically are involved at these incidents. Ah, drugs. Yes, the legal ones tend to constrict time, and the illegal ones can move the concertina in both directions – or so I’ve heard.

Not sure how long I’ve been sitting here. Long enough, it seems. Got very little done: not enough when I consider the time spent doing it, but then maybe it was a quick – or a slow – hour, or half-hour, or whatever it was.

Published in: on September 15, 2010 at 8:19 pm  Leave a Comment  

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