Do you know what I hate even more than words?
It most certainly isn’t on my side.
Or maybe that should be time management? (But I digress.)
Whether it is time to write (here, there and everywhere) or film, I always seem to fall short.
As I get older, I remember more and more what I was told by adult’s as a child: ‘Days go faster the more you age.’
And I’ve felt it at an increasing pace recently.
I once read or heard that the reason days seem to speed up and you feel like they take up less time to due to our perception of hours, minutes, days changing as we age. For example, if you are a day old, an hour is 1/24 of your existence, which is quite a lot. If you’re 10, an hour is 1/87696. And if your 26, well, you get the picture. (Gosh I hope my maths skills are okay there.)
So the older you are, the less an hour can seem as it is less of your whole existence. Things like that make me smile.
But maybe I should be writing something and not pondering the perception of time.
There is probably also the fact that things I wish to do know take up more of my time in a focusing way. E.g. I tried to write a book when I was 7, did about two paragraphs that I had written so big they took up two pages and gave up. Whereas in the present, I am working on a second draft of a novel that is miles to long, I have put more effort into it and more focus, I shouldn’t expect to work well on that, and write blogs and videos and work and sleep and eat and draw and watch TV and exercise and make things and procrastinate and laze about and etc. etc. etc. to the level of focus and dedication I want, in one day. Whereas when I was a child, I would do all these things, but without the focus.
And then of course, the rose tinted glasses. Often when I look closer I remember that nothing was ever perfect, I got frustrated and worried just as I do now. Maybe not about the same things or to the same level of panic and annoyance, but they were still there. Time never was on my side. And that’s okay.
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