Day 98

I think I have something of a time obsession. One time in middle school, during the course of a normal conversation, I must have checked my watch an inordinate number of times, since it prompted one of my friends to ask me if I have "some sort of watch-checking fetish or something."

Well maybe I do. If I ever happen to be wearing an analog watch, I find something oddly soothing about watching the second hand make its endless circuits around the face of the dial. If I'm in the right mood, I can get engrossed enough where I start to lose minutes from my life without noticing. I recently purchased such a watch for this very purpose, among others. I chose a design so nondescript and utilitarian that my inner German could only approve ("Alles muss praktisch sein" is a saying that means "Everything must be practical").

As stupidly self-evident as it sounds, it's difficult to believe that 98 days have passed since 98 days ago; that so much could happen in such a span of time that it feels like it's been a year that passed by in a moment.

I guess the comfort of watching the seconds hand comes from knowing that things aren't moving any faster or slower than they ever have been. It feels like something akin to taking a deep breath. It's a kind of reassurance. Sometimes, when I am stressed, I look at the sky, just to make sure it's still blue.

I don't think that a digital watch can comfort me in the same way an analog can, oddly enough. The reassurance that comes from analog watches just isn't there when I look at the angular numbers on a digital watch display. Every time I check my digital watch, the time seems to mercilessly jump ahead without my knowing it. I get antsy and wonder where the time went, whether I used it effectively, whether what I was doing was worthwhile. This only makes my time anxiety grow, and pretty soon, I'm checking my wrist every minute. That's no way to live.

I think a lot of this has to do with scope. On a digital watch, all you ever see is the second you're in right now. And now. And now. And now. There's this disjunction from one moment to the next. In contrast, the sweeping movements of the hands of an analog watch acknowledge what has come before, and what is yet to come. The circular dial visually reminds me that there's a past and a present, that I don't exist stranded on the point of an icepick.

Wow, that got angsty in a hurry. Good thing I caught myself before making an ass of myself with a Faulkner quote*. That sure would be embarrassing.

* Misattributed to Absalom! Absalom! Quote is actually from The Sound and the Fury. Trying to read either will frustrate you to no end.