I received a lot of nice compliments about my post that I wrote last week. People saying it was really funny or brilliant or whatever. So thank you for all that. I also heard people say that it was really sad and that they feel bad for me. And that's okay, I guess. But there is something that I thought was fairly interesting. Normally, for whatever reason, I write about something that is somewhat serious, and I put a lot of thought into it and try to make it good. And every once in a while, someone will say, "Hey, I read your blog, and I thought it was really good." But when I write something completely ridiculous, I get more comments than about anything else I have written in my life. So maybe I should stop writing about worthwhile things, and start just commenting on all the unfortunate aspects of my life, because I guess people really like to hear about that.
I really don't have much to write about right now. Things at school are going pretty well, but busy, and I've been in the library a lot. It's becoming very dear to my heart. I may just set up a cot in the periodical section and stay there. And every night, before I go to bed, I'll read a few articles of the Evangelical Review of Theology or something. And everyone on campus will be talking about the periodical hermit, and they'll come look at me from a distance and make remarks about my long dirty hair and the burlap sacks that I wear for clothes.
But putting all jest aside, there is a thought that I've had for awhile, and I've shared it with a few people. It's not very interesting, and I'm sure it's not original, and there's definitely no application point to be gained from it. But it's my theory about how time works.
Today is November 15. I have only two more weeks of regular class, and then finals, and then the semester is over. At that point, I will be halfway done with my college career. And it feels like just yesterday, I was setting up my dorm room my freshman year and eating chicken parmesan for my first meal in the dining hall. All the time, I hear people saying things like, "Man, this semester has gone so fast." And it's true. Every semester, every year, seems like it's shorter than the one before it. What causes this phenomenon? Does time actually accelerate?
I think that the reason each period of time feels like it's shorter than the ones before it is because, as we get older, that amount of time is a smaller percentage of our lives. Think about it. When you're five years old, one year is twenty percent of your life. And so a year feels like a pretty long time. However, when you're twenty years old, one year is only five percent of your life. So it feels like it's a lot shorter.
Really, none of us is able to gauge any amount of time longer than our own lives. Someone can say, "This happened 100 years ago" or "This happened 2000 years ago." And I suppose I can cognitively grasp this difference, but not fully. It's all pretty much the same to me. I have no reference point for any amount of time beyond 20 years (almost 21 years; buy me presents).
If there's anything to be gained from any of this, it's that time really is going faster as far as you're concerned. So make the most of it. I imagine that when I'm 80, each passing year is going to seem like it's nothing at all. And it's probably a shame to have to look back and think, "Man, I really wasted my time sitting around reading meaningless blog posts." So you may now move your mouse up to the little X in the corner and close this. After all, time is flying. So try to keep up.