Time.

I’ve been thinking about time today.

Why does it pass so slowly, and then so fast?

Why is time so important to us? We care for it as we care for our most cherished memories or most loved people. We spend the beginning of our lives dancing around it hoping that it will move a little faster only to get upset by the way it ages us. We give up on things because there’s not enough time to pull through, but time sometimes is the reason we do pull through. We calculate and recalculate time down to the second.

I guess time is just like a secret that no one can keep.

All this thought of time has gotten me to think about what I am doing with my time. Am I doing my self justice? I’m a using it wisely?

I wonder if we are each given a certaint amount of time and if there is some sort of time keeper that sits upon our shoulders with his pocket watch in hand timing us. Maybe if we use our time right he may give us a few more seconds to do what we please with. I wonder if he worries about or welfare or if he is just counting the seconds until our time is up so that he can move on to some other persons shoulder who may give him a better altitude. And does altitude change time? If I were in outerspace and watching the earth spin around and around like it always has done would time go faster or slower or be the same? If it went by slower would people be more prone to the idea of living on a space center that’s overlooks the earth just because they would have more time? But we would most likely age the same… right? When asked what is most important to a person I would bet that most people would say their children or spouse or parents or other significant people in a persons life. But actually underneith their stament of importance they are really saying that the time with those significant people is of up most importance. We are a world not ruled by kings and queens, presidents, the law, or other hiarchies. We are ruled by time. It is the one thing that keeps moving even when everything else stops.

I believe I have gone too far with this thought of time. Carli

A Box For Thinking.

I sit in a cubicle eight hours a day. Looking at the blue desktop background of my little out dated Dell computer. When I get tired of that view I lift my eyes to the grey wall of my cubicle. Sometimes I poke my pencil into the dull fabric that makes up the cubicle wall, pretending that I am trapped in a box and need some air to pass through those holes into my lungs. Sometimes I draw. Then get annoyed at the fact that my attempts at drawing a beautiful women fails misribly. I them take these pictures home and hang them above Courtneys bed and make fun of them with her. Some how this corrects the sorrow I feel for those drawings. That those sad people I draw will never be looked at as beautiful.

But in this small lonely cubicle I make plans. I dream big. Make decisions. Learn new things about life. It is a place for thinking.

This is the only time I have to really sit down and think. Plus I’m getting paid to do it.

I feel some sort of anger towards the people who pick up on the other side of the phone line. Those people that are too busy to answer a few quick questions. Those who are to private to share their beliefs. Those who are to brain washed to be realistic. Those who are too sad to be kind. Those who are to passionate to be humble. I talk to so many people who feel like I’m an intruder into their lives. Maybe I am. But I feel like they are intruding into my life with their snide comments and unfair judgments. I’m just an honest girl doing somewhat unhonest work so that I can someday live a life that I have been and now am working towards. Isn’t that what we are all doing?

That’s all for now. Carli