Our perception of time is incredibly malleable — no wonder the pandemic upended it.
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There used to be this thing called a party. The concept was simple — gather a bunch of living, breathing bodies in the same place at the same time and just see what happens. And if my friends wanted me to be on time to a party, they’d lie.
I wasn’t proud of my reputation with time. Once, someone was describing their color blindness to me and it reminded me a lot of how I feel about time. How I know that 3 pm and 3:05 pm are technically different, but I personally don’t perceive that contrast.
I tried my best to banish those thoughts. I bought clocks and set them to five minutes early. And I was finally closing the gap — becoming one of those people who holds the reins of time. And then — the pandemic happened.
And suddenly Tuesdays were Thursdays were Sundays. The whole world joined me in temporal disorientation — even my punctual superiors were at a loss. They knew how to arrive five minutes early — not how to repeat the same five minutes 43,854 times.
Maybe we’ve all been too fixated on keeping track of time when what we need most is vocabulary to describe the new colors of time.
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