What dashing prince will save us from the speeding train of time?
Time is out of control. I don’t know who’s going to step up and do something about this.
I said a thing in this column about a year or so ago, which seems like only five minutes ago, about how time feels like it’s going a lot faster now that I’m a parent. Not long after saying so (a couple months in calendar speak, but only a few seconds in my perception), I was having a beer with the mastermind of this newspaper, Matt Bunk, and he told me about how he and his girlfriend also had noticed that time seems to have sped up in the last several years.
And so, there you have it. Proof positive that the time-space continuum is torn. Because, if it’s going to happen, you know we’re going to be the ones to report it first.
Here’s the thing: I like time. Quality magazine, solid backing band for Morris Day and a hamlet in Pike County, Illinois. Let’s keep time going. Yes, it’s the singular reason for why I keep getting older, slower, grayer, fatter and wrinklier. But it’s also the big reason that I can move, talk, walk, think, breathe, chew, write, annoy the “friends” I don’t like on Facebook with my repeated status updates, etc. Time does everything. It will eventually kill me, but still, I want to keep it.
But slow your roll, time. I need a chance to enjoy the stuff I’ve got going right now.
I’m a father of a super stellar kid, who says awesome stuff like, “Cars all done sad now” on a regular basis, and I enjoy every minute I’m in her presence. Even when she’s throwing toys at me and screaming, “Go away!” But, each minute of each day, she just keeps getting bigger, older and she’s changing, from my little baby to a grown-up, and I just want a little more of a chance to process it and enjoy it all.
I’m happily married. That’s pretty spectacular. But, even though I can’t imagine life without my sweet Annette, it kind of feels like I just met her last month, and we’ve been together for five years now.
I’ve got at least four jobs that I enjoy for the most part. Drive a pretty decent car. We’re building a new house, at an address none of you needs to know. Everyone’s healthy. I just downloaded a Simpsons game for free on my iPad that’s pretty fun. Life is sweet.
And all of it is rushing past in a blur. I can’t keep it straight.
When I was a kid, time moved by at a crawl. I distinctly remember sitting near the back of a mostly empty school bus, driving through the countryside on our way home, and thinking to myself, “How long am I going to be a kid? This is taking forever.”
You know how long I’ve been an adult? About two months, I’d estimate. Someone hit the fast-forward button. It’s not fair.
My best guess is that the scientists working on that Large Hadron Collider particle accelerator somehow managed to screw up the universe at a subatomic level, and now the rest of us are zooming through time at a few thousand miles per hour.
I’m going to be 80 sometime next week, and that makes me really sort of angry.
So, here it is, in writing yet again. Time is speeding by too fast. Slow it down, time, or I am going to unleash Prince and his New Revolution to defeat you at the Battle of the Bands at First Avenue in Minneapolis.
-All seven, and columnist Kelly Hagen will watch them fall. They stand in the way of love and we will smoke them all. He can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org, or follow him on the Twitter machine, www.twitter.com/kellyhagen.