I've always thought of time as an anathema. It's a cage that we have created for ourselves. A cage constructed of minutes and hours, and locked with months and years, as the microseconds tick away. Time is relative to the task at hand. Sometimes a day at work can feel like a week, but a week in the Caribbean can feel like five minutes. We have to be at work on time, and some of us sad sacks have to actually punch a clock...metaphorically I guess, although many of us feel differently. There is never enough time for the pleasures in life...or is there?
If we created time, then we can flex time and shift it around. That"s my theory. The true talent would be learning how to slow time down during those most enjoyable and memorable moments. One's outlook on life has a great bearing on the movement of time. I can guarantee that. Years can go by in a dark blurry haze, until the light of day is glimpsed once again. Life is not easy, but it is what we make it, at least in our perception of it.
Ah work. Ah, the Tuesday 2 to 10:30pm shift. One of the only benefits of this shift is not having to actually work until 10:30. Once those store doors are locked, it's pretty easy to get out of there in ten minutes. If I was the kind of person to hang out in the pub and drink my way to closing...well, that would be a different Mark wouldn't it? That Mark might even spell his name with a C, as in Marc. That Marc goes to Mardi Gras every year with a different skank, and only has a few billion neurons left to extinguish with foamy alcoholic beverages. That Marc does not have tax problems, or two ex-wives. But that's a different Marc, as I said. The C probably stands for cocky.
It's too damn nice of a day to be going to work, but I'm not that other Marc, so to work I must go.