My Time Conundrum

Commencing the eighth week of 2024 means there are only 44 weeks left of this year. Time flies like an arrow, and fruit flies like a banana. Never in a million years would I have suspected how much my perception of time would change over the years. But it did, and I still need to figure out how. When I was a teenager sitting on those uncomfortable wooden benches at grammar school, I always thought time stood still on several occasions during the day.

Interestingly, I wasn't alone with this impression, as my peers had similar experiences, especially during those terrifyingly boring subjects whose teachers were so annoyed by teaching us that their disgust was written all over their faces. I remember looking at my watch, and the second hand wouldn't move. It quivered and shook as it tried to continue its dull routine. It stood over one of the notches and wouldn't go any further. I silently screamed at those occasions when an hour seemed like a whole year.

Contrary to these early incidents, this perception has undergone a dramatic metamorphosis over the past three and a half decades. Even though I'm aware of the fact that 24 hours are still 24 hours and the Earth needs 365 days to circle the Sun, a month seems like a second. (Atomic clocks are the proof of the consistency of the length of a second, so nothing deviates from the usual.) In other words, we are just coming to our senses in January when we realise that it is actually February.

Although the weather doesn't corroborate the fact that officially, it's still winter. The April-like temperatures suggest otherwise, completely disrupting our winter-weary bodies. This early spring fatigue has a detrimental effect on everyone. This is probably the main reason why we cannot sleep through the night without interruptions or wake up earlier than usual. Nevertheless, we may sleep as usual, but our corrupted perception of time suggests otherwise.