Each week in 300 words

This week

Time is strange. In some occasions, time will drag forever, and every moment feels longer than the moment you had to endure previously. Other times, it speeds through like a linebacker and before you know it, you're in the endzone. This week in particular has been odd in the sense that I feel like the weekend JUST occurred, yet another one is already upon us. However, during the week, each day felt like a year, especially during useless sections where you go over the homework piece by teeny tiny piece and it's completely unnecessary if you've done the homework right. But of course, I digress once again.
Today, I'm thinking in particular of a scene from Waking Life where Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy are talking about dreams, and Julie mentions that oftentimes she'll waken, look at the clock and it'll say for example, 10:12am. She'll fall back asleep and have these "long intricate dreams that seem to last for hours" and she'll wake up again, look at the clock and it's only 10:13am. It almost seems that in dreams, our subconscious has no reference of time and can change our entire perception of reality. I mean, when you dream, it feels incredibly real, even the ones where you wake up, recount it to a friend and realize how utterly silly the plot really was. Does our subconscious always suspend logic and disregard what we know to be realistic and what isn't?
In case you're wondering how any of this has to do with English and classwork, all this came to mind when I was reading Frank O'Hara's Ave Maria. Naturally, I started thinking about what I'd be like as a mother (a frightening thought for sure) and how I would likely reminisce about my younger years, wondering where the time had flown. And, of course, what the hell my kids were up to. The poem reminded me a lot of my relationship with my parents - probably more my dad than my mom - but even so, I wonder often whether I'll become like them someday, embodying characteristics of them I swore I'd never have.

posted by Debbie @ 2:30 PM