Time Passing 2
Because tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day to the last syllable of recorded time.
The previous piece was woven around the passage of time and the journey of quality rather than the destination of quantity. Today, it occurs to me that Bard Bill foresaw a time where the recording of time, nearly every moment, would be its measure.
If I don't take a picture and post it somewhere for others to verify and validate, it didn't happen.
I get to work alongside a small team of 30-year-olds who assist youth in building skills, resources, and experiences through significant supportive dialogue and coaching. Our location is a phone-free zone, but when we discuss phone safety and social media savvy, we hear that many are opening Snapchat and tik up to 500 times a day. They record themselves in every situation and feel compelled to share with and anticipate feedback from as big a circle as they can possibly create—the more posts, the more peeps, and the more time passes, pleasurably, until it doesn't. When positive feedback turns, time passes grudgingly and dangerously. The recorder, unfortunately, continues to post in a frantic attempt to change the trajectory.
I have a vivid imagination and can capture images and essences of incidents that have occurred or are happening in my temporal space. Recently, I recognized that these precise memories may be more precise than accurate. I have recollections that I am no longer sure happened, but I am sure they are true. https://fadedrecollections.com/2015/01/19/a-knights-tale/
Telling stories is our way of processing the unknown, communicating where logic fails, and wrestling with fears and friends. Nostalgia, naivete, and nervousness are the palettes I use to protect myself when I am the narrator.
I don't know what point I was making, other than the recording of my milestones are the chisels that make the story and the memory permanent.