Time, Life, Acceling

Time, Life, Acceling
January 15, 2002
By Peter Stair

I wake up this morning and have only five minutes to get where I’m going, so I don’t want to be where I am.

I throw off the covers of my nicely warmed bed and throw my notebooks into my bag, which I toss over my shoulder, and then jump onto my bike and race to class. I sit down in class just after the professor starts and settle down from my momentary frenzy. I slept only six hours last night.

So my head nods as the teacher drones about some new set of observations and connections humans made not long ago. He’s pretty excited about all the stuff we’re learning so quickly in his field these days. He makes a joke about an ignorant conception of the world that people used to have, and I’m temporarily jolted out of my daze. I don’t get the joke, because I haven’t been paying attention, and I didn’t have time to drink my coffee this morning, so I’m too slow for him. I’m not going to understand much today, so I just want to get through this class. So, when I hear the professor wrapping up, I start packing up, and the professor is like, “one more minute,” but I’ve already decided that he’s finished, and when he does stop speaking I’m the third person out of the room. “Hi,” I nod to someone I know from my freshman dorm. We haven’t actually stopped to talk all quarter.

So I’m on my bike again and I’m going to my next class, which is far away and was scheduled so that I have only seven minutes to get there, and I don’t recognize anyone I know until it’s too late to say, “hi.” I get upset with the slow walkers spread out in front of me and at the guy who’s recklessly weaving around people on his bike. And I just don’t understand why other people have to be such a problem.

So I get to my next class, and I snatch a seat. It’s another class that’s only mildly interesting. This is one of those classes where I really respect the professor, but I don’t have time to do all the reading. I think I miss a lot.

I sometimes think about living on campus without all the deadlines and pressures. I could just learn what I want to learn, hang out with friends, go skiing and visit all the other interesting places in this area. But I really shouldn’t be upset by my life. This is the best time of my life, after all. I think I like it here. I like it. Actually, I know I like it. A lot.

The professor finishes, and I jump back on my bike and go back to my dorm, but I forget to stop by the Bookstore to buy new batteries for my alarm clock, and so I rush back to get them. But I can’t stand lines, even though I have to.

I know that I’m going to be late to lunch with an old friend I haven’t seen in a while. Luckily I know she will be late also. We grab food and talk to each other. I’m so impressed by how busy she’s been.

But she has to rush off to a meeting, and I have to go to another class. So we agree to meet again sometime.

After class, I bike back to my room. I haven’t checked e-mail all day! But it’s just announcements for events I don’t have time to go to. I start catching up on my reading, but I realize that I need to exercise. The gym is crowded, and my favorite machine is broken, so I try out a new and unfamiliar machine. It feels strange, but, hey, change is good. Then I notice that I have only 45 minutes before dinner, so I try to work extra hard, even on my strange machine.

I make it back to dinner in time to get some of the good food! But I don’t stay for long, because I need to do some reading. But it’s hard to stick with, even though it’s about dinosaurs and a meteor and the scramble to survive. I’m not understanding it.

So I check e-mail again and get a really long and thoughtful e-mail from a friend on the East Coast. But it’s too good: I don’t have the time to respond properly right now. I really like this friend.

So my attention wanders, and I pick up my stuffed dinosaur. Here’s one that didn’t go extinct, I think cleverly. But he doesn’t look like a survivor at all. He’s goofy-looking and soft, and he looks like he’d be really slow. And, though I’ve only had him for a little while, I’ve used him enough that he’s already old and I should get a new one. But — ahhh — what am I doing? I don’t have time for this.

I do the reading for another class, but I don’t do as much as I need to. I start responding to my friend’s e-mail, but I don’t want to send him a 20 page e-mail, so I have to think about what I want to say. I’ll finish it later.

I continue my reading. I’m catching up. I think this is progress!

I decide I’m going to go to bed a little bit earlier than usual today. So I move some piles around in my room, and get into bed. Another day over. But I start thinking about all the things I still have to do, like that application, and solidifying my plans for spring break, and deciding what I’m going to do this summer, and getting my brother a birthday present, and I’m still way behind on reading. Damn! I didn’t do anything today.

I’m sick and tired of doing so much, I think. But it’s not that bad. I like being busy. I think I might be getting a little sick. Hopefully just a little, though, because I don’t have the time to be sick. I’m sick of being sick.

Peter Stair is a junior studying human ecology. He wants to pay tribute to Jorge Luis Borges for his brief profundity, and likes the movie “Koyanisquatsi” (“out of balance”). “Make Haste or you will become Waste,” his grandfather always told him, or something like that. He likes when people take the time to send him comments at pstair@stanford.edu.