Time. It moves differently.
Well, yes actually it does, fie upon you if you disagree.
Oast time and Shamblyland time, Depressed time and Neuronic time, time Off the Grid and time On the Radar - none of them move at the same pace.
I think, it kinda comes down to how you measure time passing. (I recall once being told there was a country that measures distance in cigarettes.. ((wait, fuck - maybe I made that up - help!))... t'feh, whatever, my point still stands: time and space is all about how you measure it and therefore how long you *think* it stretches.
If you have a deadline, time is clocked in moments of productivity.
If you lack funds it’s counted in pennies.
If you’re chronically hungry it’s in meals, portions, and hours since you last ate.
If you’re depressed, it’s just eternity without end.
If you’re manic it’s measured in projects completed and bounce and WIN and how many things you can juggle at once (or, perhaps, how many things you can do before the mania ends - like one of those special-extra-super-charged-timed-levels on old consol games. (How many upgrades and treasures can YOU collect in the allotted time?!)
And if you have no net connection it's measured in the frustration of pages not loaded.
...There, that’s my 3am philosophical bit with added (flimsy) practical satire.
I’ve been at the Oast for... a-semi-productive-randomly-fragmented-well-fed-not-uber-mopey-nor-financially-stretched while. However long that was. And now I am in Shamblyland for the next couple of weeks. Or until I manage to make a steampunk coat. Or the 9th of December. Whichever happens first.
===
I’ve been watching Doctor Who - start of David Tennant era onwards. Which of course has got my neurons thinking about time and beginnings and endings and stuff (TM), because that crazy Brit old-hat BBC scifi series actually is able to explore a lot of themes inbetween the hide-behind-the-sofa-it’s-a-monster! and the run-run-run!-ooh-look-cardboard-sets-&-dodgey-effects-etc-etc... Hence a lot of very tired neurons are trying to have discussions about time and space and philosophy and failing (mostly since the others are all shouting 'watch the bloody program or go to sleep!'.)
Oh, fekkit, I dunno.
I’m in London for the next two weeks, give or take. If you want to collar me, now’s the time. I have food to last me a week and money to last me... uh... a minus specified amount of time and as soon as I get my dress pattern in the post I’m gonna be swearing and sewing and swearing and angsting and bitching about thread related things. But, um, between all that, I suppose I just wanted to say -
Hello. It’s so very nice to meet you...
=)
Oast time and Shamblyland time, Depressed time and Neuronic time, time Off the Grid and time On the Radar - none of them move at the same pace.
I think, it kinda comes down to how you measure time passing. (I recall once being told there was a country that measures distance in cigarettes.. ((wait, fuck - maybe I made that up - help!))... t'feh, whatever, my point still stands: time and space is all about how you measure it and therefore how long you *think* it stretches.
If you have a deadline, time is clocked in moments of productivity.
If you lack funds it’s counted in pennies.
If you’re chronically hungry it’s in meals, portions, and hours since you last ate.
If you’re depressed, it’s just eternity without end.
If you’re manic it’s measured in projects completed and bounce and WIN and how many things you can juggle at once (or, perhaps, how many things you can do before the mania ends - like one of those special-extra-super-charged-timed-levels on old consol games. (How many upgrades and treasures can YOU collect in the allotted time?!)
And if you have no net connection it's measured in the frustration of pages not loaded.
...There, that’s my 3am philosophical bit with added (flimsy) practical satire.
I’ve been at the Oast for... a-semi-productive-randomly-fragmented-well-fed-not-uber-mopey-nor-financially-stretched while. However long that was. And now I am in Shamblyland for the next couple of weeks. Or until I manage to make a steampunk coat. Or the 9th of December. Whichever happens first.
===
I’ve been watching Doctor Who - start of David Tennant era onwards. Which of course has got my neurons thinking about time and beginnings and endings and stuff (TM), because that crazy Brit old-hat BBC scifi series actually is able to explore a lot of themes inbetween the hide-behind-the-sofa-it’s-a-monster! and the run-run-run!-ooh-look-cardboard-sets-&-dodgey-effects-etc-etc... Hence a lot of very tired neurons are trying to have discussions about time and space and philosophy and failing (mostly since the others are all shouting 'watch the bloody program or go to sleep!'.)
Oh, fekkit, I dunno.
I’m in London for the next two weeks, give or take. If you want to collar me, now’s the time. I have food to last me a week and money to last me... uh... a minus specified amount of time and as soon as I get my dress pattern in the post I’m gonna be swearing and sewing and swearing and angsting and bitching about thread related things. But, um, between all that, I suppose I just wanted to say -
Hello. It’s so very nice to meet you...
=)