Time is an illusive thing. Now you have it. Now it's gone. They say that time is money. I think they're right.
What has greater value than time? Think about it. What are the most precious moments and memories of our lives? The time spent with the ones we love. Our life's work, which we spend hours, days, months or maybe years on, be it for a functional project, or just to show it off and be proud that we did it. The precious items we hold dear? If it is an heirloom, then it shows the time that someone else spent earning it, just to end up giving it to you. If it's something special, made by your own hand or purchased from a store, it is by your own time well spent that it is yours.
Someday in the future, when I'm a rich genius, I'll invent some funky gadget that can give one person's time to someone else. Imagine what some people would pay for a few extra hours of time! I could charge a hundred bucks an hour and take just forty percent for myself, and sixty for the man who has time to spare. While other people's work days drag by like a snail chained to a rock crossing a tar pit, it would be over instantly for the employee. He'd arrive at nine in the morning, bottle up eight hours or so, and walk right back out only what seemed to him like five minutes later, at five. Side affects may include but are not limited to longer life span for employees and slightly accelerated aging for buyers. (obviously there are some flaws, but then again they'd only be shortening their life spans by eight hours at a time)
Actually, maybe it'd be funner to be an employee, rather than own the business. Then my career wouldn't wear away at my life until it killed me, as so many other people's careers do to them. I would never be tired after work ever again. Of course at times I might find myself wishing I could have some of my time back... but then again I'd barely have to work at all, considering what time probably sells for.
Time is money. It's true! But it is part of everything else, too. It's what we buy and sell, it's who we love, it's what we do.
Nothing is worth anything if it doesn't take time.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
A lazy afternoon
I found myself observing the rather famous painting, Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte. Never before have I been impressed by it. I had always found it boring. Oh, look! A park! My, you never see paintings of those! So rare and original! Pffft. Not hardly.
Of course, that was then and this is now. As I looked at it, the teacher's voice blended into a mumbling background noise pointing out the use of shape and line and vanishing points. I saw a shadow I hadn't seen before that put everything into a new perspective. I imagined someday making a movie, and in that movie having a scene that copied the positions of people and water and trees in this painting. There was beauty and interest there that I can't put into words. Suddenly this simple, over-publicized painting was as fantastic as it must have always been. If only I'd seen it sooner.
I sat in a room full of people that seem to be from every walk of life, to a very ridiculous scale. Really it was truly amazing to see the large variety of people that take the early morning classes at a community college.
We have true to the 'T' starving artists, lazy college students that need a fine art credit (how such a species manages to get to school so early is truly a mystery to me), a druggie or two, a hippie (different from a druggie- he's a druggie with class!), a pretty Belgian transfer student, about three to five attractive guys from all different genres of macho male (ya know, gear-head, jock, rich kid, musician, et cetera) that all took turns hitting on transfer babe, Belgian transfer babe's posse composed of the remaining top 5% most attractive women in the class, a couple of those who love art and like to think of themselves as art buffs but really couldn't do anything artistic well enough to save their own lives, one handsome and inspired Mormon, and me.
Out of all of us, which ones looked up at the famous painting on the overhead and were truly impressed with what they saw? I always wonder, when I see a piece I'm not impressed with. Who likes this? And why? Are they seeing something that I can't see? Are they better artists than me and that's why they see it?
Or do they just look at it long enough to finally see its genius?
Of course, that was then and this is now. As I looked at it, the teacher's voice blended into a mumbling background noise pointing out the use of shape and line and vanishing points. I saw a shadow I hadn't seen before that put everything into a new perspective. I imagined someday making a movie, and in that movie having a scene that copied the positions of people and water and trees in this painting. There was beauty and interest there that I can't put into words. Suddenly this simple, over-publicized painting was as fantastic as it must have always been. If only I'd seen it sooner.
I sat in a room full of people that seem to be from every walk of life, to a very ridiculous scale. Really it was truly amazing to see the large variety of people that take the early morning classes at a community college.
We have true to the 'T' starving artists, lazy college students that need a fine art credit (how such a species manages to get to school so early is truly a mystery to me), a druggie or two, a hippie (different from a druggie- he's a druggie with class!), a pretty Belgian transfer student, about three to five attractive guys from all different genres of macho male (ya know, gear-head, jock, rich kid, musician, et cetera) that all took turns hitting on transfer babe, Belgian transfer babe's posse composed of the remaining top 5% most attractive women in the class, a couple of those who love art and like to think of themselves as art buffs but really couldn't do anything artistic well enough to save their own lives, one handsome and inspired Mormon, and me.
Out of all of us, which ones looked up at the famous painting on the overhead and were truly impressed with what they saw? I always wonder, when I see a piece I'm not impressed with. Who likes this? And why? Are they seeing something that I can't see? Are they better artists than me and that's why they see it?
Or do they just look at it long enough to finally see its genius?
Friday, October 3, 2008
The crimes and punishement of being late
Whoops. There I went and did it again. No. I've never messed with your heart. I was talking about being late. Again. I'm late for life. Is that gonna affect my final grade? Because I've already got a pretty solid D-, and I'd rather not push my luck.
Although it may have taken your grade down a letter or so, I doubt lateness at school is going to affect your quality of life in general, in the end. Really it's what you do in your life, and with it, that will affect your "grade" in life.
Grade is really just another word for "judge", isn't it? Rather, I think judge is a bit better, when discussing your life and eternity or lack there of that you may think comes afterwards. Perhaps your destiny might be based on how you judge your own life in the end, once all is said and done. What if you find yourself lacking?
What kind of scale are we using, anyway? One to ten? Can we choose someone else to judge us? What if we're too hard on ourselves? What if we have no conscience but we're actually a psychopath? What then?
It is easier to believe that there's someone bigger who knows better.
Or maybe it is easiest to make sure that we are satisfied with what we did or didn't do with our life as we go. Do what you'll be proud of later. Yeah, that's even easier than a scale from one to ten!
Although it may have taken your grade down a letter or so, I doubt lateness at school is going to affect your quality of life in general, in the end. Really it's what you do in your life, and with it, that will affect your "grade" in life.
Grade is really just another word for "judge", isn't it? Rather, I think judge is a bit better, when discussing your life and eternity or lack there of that you may think comes afterwards. Perhaps your destiny might be based on how you judge your own life in the end, once all is said and done. What if you find yourself lacking?
What kind of scale are we using, anyway? One to ten? Can we choose someone else to judge us? What if we're too hard on ourselves? What if we have no conscience but we're actually a psychopath? What then?
It is easier to believe that there's someone bigger who knows better.
Or maybe it is easiest to make sure that we are satisfied with what we did or didn't do with our life as we go. Do what you'll be proud of later. Yeah, that's even easier than a scale from one to ten!
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