I’m writing this as I’m stuck here due to the necessity of, you guessed it, killing time. I have an hour to wait for something and for the duration of that time, I have nothing to occupy me. You know of my aversion to headphones, so listening to music is out of the question. I usually have a book with me but drat, such is the day. I mean, I could read the ones on my phone but hey, drafting a post for Of Opinions seems more attractive. Gosh, I’ve found a new reason to be grateful for my blog. Who knew blogging could kill boredom?
Actually, that is the reason why most of us blog. I tell myself it is to build my writing career, and though it is significantly that, it is also very much an excuse to fill up time. And as I’ve argued before, isn’t everything we do, what we call culture, just ways for biding time?
I prefer the expressions biding time or fill up time to killing time. I mean, killing time is phonetically pleasant, implies something dangerous because, duh, you’re killing something here. But, because it is only your own time, it is okay. Nobody gets hurt. Of course, a lot happens to you without you being aware of it. Most of all, you age by an hour. All those cells will never look the same again. They will pass, and then another generation of cells will replace them. We don’t notice that, we just notice entire repositories of cells – humans – passing, to slowly give way to newer repositories. But, hey, we’re just killing time.
I wonder what The Doctor from Doctor Who thinks of killing time. I’m sure there must be an episode there about literally killing time in the show’s 51 year history. Knowing him, I don’t think he’d approve of it. And not just because time is “precious,” but because it is our greatest resource. I’m one to say, someone who’s made a cereal out of wasting time. As in, made it the major part of the metaphorical diet of my life. But, I see it now, as I see the regeneration of my cells starting to slow its pace. I used to be able to stare into space for an hour absolutely guilt-free. But now, at least I have pen and paper (which I’m running out of, might have to head to the stationery shop nearby) and most importantly, the will to do something. Don’t worry, my cells are unlikely to regenerate so drastically that I’d stop staring into space altogether. I’d probably die replicating the Le Penseur statue. But, I’m not sure if I have enough energy to kill Time, or just small, insignificant bits of it that make up small, insignificant bits of my life. I’ve decided to respectfully acknowledge its presence, and make the most of its generosity, as much as my lazy self can allow.
Usually, I give the impression of writing in nearly real-time here, which is what I do. Write ’em, edit ’em, shoot ’em off when they are ready, cross my fingers and hope for the best. Firing blog shots, seems like a better image than killing time, don’t you think? But, I’m quietly swearing to myself (and not writing it down because I keep my blog clean) now as I still have half an hour of waiting to do while I finish this, this fine noon. Maybe, I should write another post.
P.S. I didn’t write another post. I went and bought pink flamingo pyjamas instead, except the flamingoes are white in a pink background. Daring, I know. I was also made to wait another 45 minutes, as it is with waiting in general. Grrr.
P.P.S. How do you kill time? Which is better – writing a post or buying pink-flamingo-pyjamas-that-aren’t-technically-pink flamingoes?