time

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Funemployment

Iowa. That’s where I was the last week and some change, combined with a little Tri-State visitation. I’ve been loathe to make contact with people electronically, either via email or here, for reasons I’m still not quite sure of. Possibly the fact I was fired (or the kinder euphemism ‘let go’, reflecting the economic reasons behind my dismissal) right before the holidays might have something to do with it.

In any case, I’ll certainly have more time for typing here, though whether I’ll be able to is another matter. Currently I’m sitting in one of our lovely public libraries utilizing their wifi, as the server at home appears to be on but not feeling like connecting to the internet today.

I must admit I was disappointed being let go, though it wasn’t unexpected in the least. I saw it coming a mile away in the form of losing large accounts over the months prior, and up close and personal the day before: 2 people in the art department were let go in the most awkward way possible Monday morning. Monday morning! You come in after your commute, settle in with a cup of coffee, get called into the office and find out you are no longer employed and have to clear out within 15 minutes. Nice! That doesn’t even win for Most Awkward and Abrupt firing- a fellow coworker was called up WHILE ON HIS VACATION and told not to come to the holiday party at the end of the week. When asked why, they said ‘oh, because you’re being let go’. Huh. It says a lot about my job satisfaction that my deepest regret was also losing the opportunity to attend the holiday party. That there were only 2 more days to go was the harshest blow.

But all is not gloom and doom, despite the fact I know exactly 5 people out of all my friends currently employed. I’ll hopefully figure out what I’d rather be doing than office work, and waking up at the kindlier hour of 9:00am has done wonders for my attitude. Sure, in a few weeks I’ll begin fretting about money and the like, but for now, I’ll enjoy the ride.

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Pins & Needles

This was rushed over three evenings, as the free trial for FrameThief was about to run out, and goodness knows I’m nothing if not cheap. So, wires and strings visible, poor lighting, shaky camera, additional self-deprecating comment, blah blah blah.

I nearly garrotted myself on the ‘invisible’ fishing line I’d set up between my desk and closet for the pins; in my morning sleepiness I’d forgotten it was there. I also put a hole in a perfectly good ironic t-shirt, which I wanted solely for its appearance in “I Married Marge”. C’est la vie.

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These images make lovely use of high-speed photography. An interview with the artist is available here. It’s a bit pretentious, but what do you expect when you’re being questioned by someone named ‘Rosecrans Baldwin’? I wonder if, like his namesake, he suffers from a feeling of marginalization and predetermined existence? He is the editor for an online arts magazine.

I remember on a long car ride with my dad, we got into a discussion about the nature of reality as pertains to time, in the form of someone taking a picture of an arrow flying. If you used a fast enough speed, the arrow would appear to be still. But then, how could it be representing reality, when the arrow was in motion? Is all time just a series of interconnected still moments, and the passage of time an illusion of human construct? How then to explain the difference between a photo of the arrow in flight and a photo of the arrow stuck in the target? Were the images interchangeable, merely states put into sequential order by our limited 3-dimensional perception? As I was eight at the time my arguments were weakened by sudden distraction at the sight of a field of cows.

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Thirty days hath September,
April, June, and November.
All the rest have thirty-one,
Except for February. The freak month.

With the arrival of the New Year comes reflection on the old. I find myself wondering not so much about how the days were passed but by the concept of ‘days’ itself. We’ve chopped up our time into wildly varying units and seem pretty comfortable using what in fact is a bizarre and superstitious system of time.

The days alone are filled with pagan revelry- from Woden’s Day smack in the middle to TGI-Freyja’s, the week has a sharp Nordic flavor about it. I was particularly fond of the latter’s traditions- on Friday women could ask men to marry and act with impunity, since it was their goddess, their day. Moon and Sun day are pretty standard around the world, with other countries filling in the rest of the week with literal translations based on astrological/numerical readings. The Japanese hand out paychecks on ‘Gold Day’(Friday)not because it’s the end of their work week, but because it’s the appropriate day.

Our months are Roman with a dash of Greek; both gods and emperors are represented, along with some Roman practicality. Alas, the shifting sands of time left the names of September and October intact while stripping them, now the 9th and 10th months, of any logic. Ancient Egypt gave us 12 months and 24 hours with their duodecimal counting, the Babylonians with their base-60 gave us the seconds and minutes, Hindu astronomy gave us the week. You’d think this numerical melting pot might create confusion, beg a more orderly system- this is not the case.

Robespierre’s attempt to change the calendar over to Vulcan-like logic resulted in the ‘Thermidorian Reaction’, a revolt against the excesses of his Reign of Terror, and a great name for a math-based prog band. Sure, other factors helped pave Robespierre’s way to the gallows, but changing all units of time over to metric turned fear into loathing. We get 6 firkins to the hogshead and that’s the way we like it.

The experiment was an interesting one for the years it lasted-the French Republican Calendar had 12 months divided into 3 ten-day weeks called décades. Each day was divided into ten hours, each hour into 100 decimal minutes and each decimal minute into 100 decimal seconds. So an hour was over twice as long as a regular hour; a minute was a wee bit longer than a conventional minute; and a second was slightly shorter than usual. Confused yet? Imagine if you were an illiterate peasant. The months were renamed to banish any trace of pagan pageantry, focusing instead on potential weather. Thus ‘Winter’, running from Dec. 21 to Feb. 19th, held the months Snowy, Rainy, and Windy. The same treatment was given to the days, switched over to Latin numerical names like octidi (eighth day). Even in tearing down the old ways Robespierre kept to them- instead of just abolishing saints’ days, he replaced them with representative animals, tools, plants and minerals. I was born on the Day of the Forest. Those lucky few born on Oct. 2nd can revel in their patron plant, the Potato.

Time passes, regardless how we parse it. I suppose it gives us some comfort to have a measurement, perhaps for a feeling of control, however slight.

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