Time, in my opinion, should be used as a guide. Time should guide us through life, allowing us to set goals and be organised. However, Time is sly and powerful. Before you realise, Time has stopped guiding you and instead it is controlling you. We rely on Time more than we rely on living. We need time to sleep, time to work, time to survive and time to live. However, when Time starts to control you and push you along, something's got to give. We have to sleep, work, and do those habitual necessities to survive. So, under the constraints of time we, as human beings, often run out of time to do the most important thing: to live.
I realise that this is a strong statement, and that it does not ring true for everyone. It is, though, unarguably true that Time is a constant threat. Whatever we do and for whatever reason we are doing it, Time is always there, ticking away.
Time can only tick while there are clocks. Time may control us, but clocks are the true enemy. When we are bored, we concentrate on the slimmest hand. The hand that, during those periods of tedium, seems to move at the pace of a dying slug. When we are at work, the longest hand steals our focus as we wait for half-pasts and quarter-to's; break times and home time. When we are having fun, our attention is held by the sneakiest hand on the clock; the hour hand. The hour hand, during times of enjoyment and celebration, does not tick by, but thuds along hour-by-hour. Just as we begin to have fun, the hour hand decides to get up from its cosy armchair and go for a jog.
My point is that I am fed up of watching clocks, waiting for future events, and feeling guilty for time I have wasted doing nothing. Of course, I have only myself to blame, but as I have said before, it is always nice to blame somebody else. In this instance, I blame Time or, more accurately, clocks. This is why today I made the decision that when I realise I am an old man, I will turn off my clocks and live a Timeless life.
A life without Time is a life without constraint.
Back to the year abroad and my ever-deteriorating faith in teenagers. Stand-out moments of my teaching week include a girl who walked out of class rather than work with two boys. Of course, the only place she could go was to the discipline room (sounds worse than it is, I am sure) so she ended up in a heap of trouble. In the same class, two girls would not stop talking until one made another girl cry. It was one of those rare occasions where I full-on shout in French and the kids have a sudden realisation that they are about to get in deep sh*t. Goodtimes.
My housemates decided that our house has just one too many problems, so called a house meeting. It was very reminiscent of my second year in Exeter and the house of mould, although that time round I could understand everything. Basically, in this house, not all the doors are fully-functioning, the washing machine broke down (resulting in a farcical episode of washing clothes), to turn on the hobs you have to pump on the knobs (don't be so immature) and there is mould everywhere. So I listened to the meeting, saying mainly "Oui, je suis d'accord" and "Oui, j'ai compris", both of which were lies. However, it has resulted in me perfecting my French telephone voice to arrange visits from the repairman. Language win.
Today I got out of bed at half past one, despite having an alarm set for nine in the morning. On Tuesday, I woke up at nine forty-five. I actually had a class to teach at half past eight so missed it... Pretty shameful seeing as I live in the school while I am teaching there. I initially blamed my alarms not working, however after this morning I am beginning to think that may not have been the reason. I am sat here now with my patchy facial hair, glasses perched on my wonky nose and wearing an odd mismatch of clothes. In one hour and a half I am going to meet some of the other assistants for a few drinks, so I should really say g'bye and get presentable. But I have one last thing to tell you.
Also today, I officially started a new project. I will not go into much detail about it, but basically during the last two months I have been evaluating my future plans. I have not managed to think of a career path I would want to take, except perhaps journalism. However, ever since I can remember, I have always wanted to achieve one goal: to write a novel. Therefore, since mid-October I have been planning ideas and writing vague story lines, none of which amounted to much. Finally, I had a breakthrough, and now I have most of the essentials sorted, I have begun to write a detailed chapter-by-chapter summary.
I am going to finish this novel not to become a famous writer, not even to necessarily publish it, but to prove to myself that I can do it. Maybe one day I will be a successful writer or maybe I will fall into a different career that I enjoy. For now, I will merely prove a point to myself. I will prove that even someone who enjoys regular lie-ins and prefers to watch Misfits than Frozen Planet can finish a forty-chapter book.
I do not care how long it takes me; I have turned off my clocks.
DC
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