Time

Whatever happened to time? When you're a child time seems infinite, school drags on forever, Friday night feels miles away from Monday morning. As you get older, you wake up, make breakfast, eat it, watch TV and suddenly it's night. And I'm not just saying that from a TV addict's perspective. Whilst, yes, I do get lost in television's radiant, plasma-fuelled glow for hours on end and never want to unplug it because it's my bestest friend in the whole wide world who I know will never ever leave me, even putting Scrubs repeats on (because Friends repeats now belong to subscription telly) for an hour or so seems to drain the day away.

Of course, it could just be the simple fact that it's still Winter and our top half of the Earth gets fewer hours of sun exposure than them southerners (*shakes fist angrily and mumbles 'grr Australia'*) that makes time feel fleeting. Statistically, we get approximately an hour and a half of daylight now and things will remain that way until mid-May. (Actually, we get more like eight hours, but with our adult perception of time it feels like a mere ninety minutes.) I suppose this is what makes me so glum every this-time-of-year-again. We're so engulfed in darkness that moods have to, by law, be lower than a Jamaican limbo champion competing on the seabed. Because of this, I start making a list of things I should do, things I need to do, things I want to do, and  things I know I'll never do - all such things appear in all of these lists - in an attempt to make me feel better about life. But that fact that I'm hypothesising about doing things and not actually doing them makes me feel bad about myself, even though I'm very aware that there are practicalities as to when and where I can do certain things and whenever I do have a chance to get on with something the motivation glands within me go straight to sleep the moment it turns dark, making it so that after 4pm I essentially become a brain dead moron with my head tilted to one side and a drooling tongue lolling out the corner of my mouth as I sit staring at a blank wall. Either that or a television.

The good thing about keeping time though is that I get to memorise the schedules of certain programmes that will televisualise themselves onto my eyes and ears and make me want to live, at least until the end of that particular episode, which reminds me, Scrubs is on again in a bit.