A few months ago I heard something really inspiring during, of all places, a TV commercial:
“Time is infinite and yet we’re always running out of it.”
It’s quite a paradox. Time is perhaps the only thing that is guaranteed to go on, and yet we constantly feel as though we never have enough of it. It is inevitable, unchanging. No refunds, no returns, no exchanges.
I guess— hold on to your hats, I’m going to get a little theoretical here— time itself is one big paradox. It is infinite to the grand scheme of things, but very definitely finite to the individual. We created something that is completely out of our control.
Ever since I first heard the quote, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. It’s constantly hammered into our heads: how many times this week have you heard about our “fast-paced, modern world?” Embedded in our culture is speed and convenience, instant gratification and immediate results.
Unfortunately, I can’t remember what it is they were referring to in the ad. The marketers were probably trying to get me to feel like I needed some new time-saving product right away. (“But wait! If you act now…”) How could I have lived so long without it?
I am very guilty of feeling like I never have enough time. Monday unfailingly comes much too soon, June approaches before I have a chance to talk to that person in class, and I am very rapidly beginning to fear the arrival of an age that doesn’t end in “-teen.”
Of course, if it were up to me, I would commit to ten clubs and take thirty credits and work at my favorite record store. Oh, and there would be at least three more hours every day that I could solely devote to reading.
I guess there are two ways of thinking about time. On one hand, you can think of time as finite; you never know how much time you really have, and the freedom to wield it is a gift. You have to make the most of every moment and make sure you are squeezing as much out of every second as possible.
This was definitely the mentality of last year, my senior year of high school. It felt like every time I went somewhere or talked to someone, there was a chance it would be for the last time. It was undeniably the end of an era, and everyone around me was feeling it too.
Most of the time, I have a countdown going on my phone, letting me know how many days are left until the next big event, like a break or concert or holiday. It also keeps track of how many days it has been since prior events, which can be an equally emotional revelation.
I’m learning that this can be a dangerous mindset. To think of time as ours to waste is reckless.
Since beginning the semester at UD, I am (grudgingly) learning to relax. As a freshman, I’ve adopted a new mantra: “You have time now. Make the most of it.” Something I’ve definitely learned in my first semester is that making the most of time doesn’t necessarily mean doing as much as possible and being as productive as I can humanly achieve at all times.
Another outlook: you can think of time as infinite. You don’t have to be and do everything all at once; you have your whole life ahead to figure things out. This new mindset, sort of a glass-half-full approach, is definitely helping me to stress less.
I think the key is making a choice, weighing my options. What is the most valuable thing to do right now? In this moment, what will I get the most from? Sometimes, the answer is saving that math assignment for another day, to relish in an extra hour of sleep. Sometimes, it means saying no to that invitation in order to get a head start on a time-consuming essay.
It’s all about baby steps. I’m deleting the countdown app, banning myself from checking the clock in class and remembering through the stress that these are four important years to make the most of.
Say it with me: you don’t have to be everything and do everything all at once. You and I have just as many hours in a day as any other human (even Beyoncé).
