Posted by: joha5 | May 12, 2010

Father Time vs. The World

I have a very curious relationship with time.  In all fairness, I don’t actually know anybody who has a good relationship with it.  We always wish we had more when we are busy and less when we aren’t.  We want to be older when we are younger and younger when we are older.  We watch the clock when we are bored and ignore it when we are having fun.  It’s impossible to go forward and envision the future but so easy to look back and reflect on the past.  Time simultaneously plays a fundamental and a non-existent role in our everyday lives. 

So why the hell am I always late then?! 

Alright, I shouldn’t say always.  I can be on time when I make a conscious decision to do so (ie. to work, an interview, a meeting, an event, etc.) but for some reason time really causes me a lot of unexplained anxiety.  It is like by setting a deadline of when I have to be somewhere I start a race against the clock and I am the odds on favorite to lose.  It doesn’t matter whether it is 3 days in advance or 3 hours in advance.  I always seem to push the clock as far as I possibly can and I have no idea why I do this to myself. 

I have read a number of articles saying that being late is a subconscious way of attempting to control your environment.  I have also read things that say it is a lack of self-discipline, that it demonstrates bad habits, that being late is a way of sabotaging one’s self, and that being late is a way of defying authority.  All of these may be true and none of these may be true.  I don’t really know.  All I know is that I push the envelope with Father Time and I don’t always win.

Oh my God! I'm Late!!

When I play against the clock and I win, I feel amazing.  However, when I play against the clock and lose I not only feel stupid but I look stupid and irresponsible to everybody else.  I’m sure that everybody else out there with a routine knows these times as well.  I know exactly what time I have to leave my house to get to work on the dot in good traffic and in bad, I know exactly how long my showers are, and I know exactly how much time I need between waking up and walking out the door.  I really have no excuse to ever be late.  But I am and I hate it.

I hate having to rely on green lights, good traffic patterns, and weaving back and forth strategically between cars to get somewhere on time but for some reason I always end up doing it.  More so, I only seem to do it with people or situations that I feel comfortable with which must irritate the hell out of people when I am late.  But what they don’t know is that I become even more irritated with myself than they probably are with me because I know that I could have been there on time.

As a result, I hate time.  I hate having to look at the clock and count down the minutes and seconds in hopes that I won’t be late.  Ironically, this only ever serves to make me later than I would be if I did look at the clock and count down the minutes and the seconds sensibly in the first place.  I never wanted to pick this fight with Father Time but this is what he gets for not making up his mind about time playing a fundamental or non-existent roles in our everyday lives in the first place.  I just wish that my lateness reflected more poorly on him than it does on me. 

Father Time, can you stop for a second please?!?!



  1. What time’s your bus? 3:30? — No prob, we’ll leave at 3:27.

    • HAHAHAHA!! I actually thought about that specific instance when I was writing this post. However, that challenge to Father Time was a victorious one for both you and me. It was unbelievably close. But it was definitely victorious.

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