How is it that things can hide in plain view?
A friend and I had a discussion today about the subjectivity of time and space. How is it that time can pass so slowly (or seemingly non-existently) when you're waiting for an anticipated event, and yet go by so quickly at other times (like when essay deadlines are pressing). The clock hand moves at the exact same speed in all circumstances. Or does it? And what happens if your subjective time is going quickly, and mine is crawling at a snail's pace....both at the same -- ahem -- "time." Would the two erroneous subjectivities cancel each other out?
And if time is subjective, can space be subjective too? How is that you can look at something right under your nose and just not see it? Is it possible that for a brief moment in time it really isn't there? And then the next moment it returns?
That would explain why my wallet suddenly, inexplicably reappeared in the bottom of my backpack. I looked. Really I did. I looked many many times, and it wasn't there. I emptied the entire backpack, every pocket, every corner. It wasn't there. I swear. And then -- it was.
All I wanted was mushrooms. And I ended up coming home without them. I'm blaming it on a tear in the fabric of the space/time continuum.
Watching: Tales from the Jungle - Carlos Castaneda, on YouTube
Celebrating: The completion of reading for my Kinship essay (YES!)
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