Author: Fallton Havenstonne

Tangents can lead us astray. They lead us down a series of seemingly random thoughts, and like cobwebs, they expand in all directions without rhyme or reason. Tangents can pull us away from our day-by-day routine, and take our mind down a road that’s obscure and dreamlike.

But tangents are not so random after all. They are products of our subconscious, inspiration tucked away and forgotten about. They exist to open our eyes to see things in new ways, to look at the familiar from a new perspective, an oblique angle.

Tangents help us to see new possibilities. They can flash in our mind like when we have that a-ha moment and make a discovery about something. They open doors, invite us to follow them to the unknown. But when our mind lands on a tangent, it’s so easy to shrug it off and think that it was just nothing.

I remember working at an office years ago and thinking how slow time used to tick by. It moved at a snail’s pace, and to keep from boredom, I’d challenge myself to not look at the clock on the wall every ten or twenty minutes. Even when I was tempted to, I’d tell myself to wait, that the next time I looked at it, it’d be lunch time.

This was when smart phones didn’t exist yet, when most of my workday involved handling papers and folders and desktop computers and CRT monitors were still a thing. The days seemed to drag on as if they would never end. Yet, here I am, over ten years later, and those days at the office are like a blink in my memory.

In those days when I didn’t have a smart phone to check my email or open up apps, I had to dwell my thoughts, dwell on what I had been reading or on something I had heard on the radio. I would dwell so deeply that I often began to forget about time and became fixated on a singular thought. Those countless hours past a little faster, and each day became a challenge to busy my mind with what I considered creatively or intellectually stimulating.

In hindsight, those countless hours were merely a reflection of my perception of time. Time is experienced based on how much we participate in an event or how little we do. When we’re bored, we’re waiting for something to happen: waiting to be entertained, engaged, or to react to whatever comes our way.

An hour can feel like a full day when we have nothing to do. But when we’re engaged or working on something that’s new and challenging, an hour can feel like a few minutes. In that moment, time is less thought of, and the moment itself becomes paramount compared to the seconds that tick by.

Technically speaking is another way of saying, “Well, actually . . .” Or to put it another way, giving the exact value of a figure or estimate.

A driver might say that he/she drove the speed limit on the highway. But the passenger might say, “Well, technically speaking, you went over the speed limit by 5 to 10 miles per hour a few times.”

So why is it that we generalize or round up or round down when we talk about numbers rather than give the precise value?

Perhaps the “technical” answer isn’t as exciting, or maybe it’s unnecessary to read it out every time. For example, when we talk about salaries, we round up or down to the thousands place or ten-thousands place. We don’t read out every single digit (i.e. the average salary is $50,689.19 at so-so company). Instead, a general value provides the idea we need for the discussion without overcomplicating it. It gives a rough “stat” of the figure rather than to have the listener process every single digit, and thus, to lose their interest or attention.

It’s the same when talking about statistics, such as the average or the median. A number might be 6 or 7 digits long or have four decimal places, but we round to simplify it, to make it easier to grasp.

So although “technically speaking” might give us the accurate answer, it misses the point of the conversation. It’s not about the specs, but about simplifying a value into an idea that comes across with ease.

Our stamina will eventually run out. We only have so much during the day. Just as we can only stay up so long before we fall asleep, we can only work so long before we burn out.

But we treat stamina as if it’s an unlimited resource. It’s why some people overwork themselves or push beyond their mind and body beyond their limits. Some might even put off taking a break, or having food and water to replenish their energy. They’ll keep going and going like the energizer bunny until they can barely stand or stay awake.

It’s as if they’re sacrificing their stamina for the sake of getting everything done. But at what cost?

More things get added on their to do list.. And to finish them up, they will sacrifice their stamina again. They’ll tell themselves that they will take a break once they’ve finished the last item. But first, they need to finish up work, then finish writing their emails, then finish their errands, then finish . . .

But it doesn’t ever end. They’ll drain their stamina again, and again, until it is all gone.

Time flows differently when we put all of our concentration on a single task. It could be a book we’re writing, a meal we’re cooking, or when we’re building something. It’s as if only the goal before us exist, and time can place no limits on it.

We only become aware of time when we think about the time we have left. Time doesn’t tap us on the shoulder and tell us to check on the clock. Rather, it is the habit of schedules and deadlines that reminds us that time exists.

Of course, night and day make us aware of time. When it’s dark out, we know that we’ve come to certain hours of the day, and the same is true with daylight. And in between night and day, the world follows schedules that effect how we go to work, when we leave work, when the street lights come on, how long stores are open for, etc.

When we lose track of time, schedules cease to exist (at least in our mind). We might be in the zone, or we might be focused on trying to get something done before we eat or go to sleep. Losing track of time can be a benefit when we need long hours of concentration–hours of non-distraction. But it can be detrimental on a busy day, a day where we have many things to do.

And then there are those days where we lose track of time because we’re simply not cognizant enough to keep track of it. This can happen when we’re tired or burned out. Maybe there is a time limit to time. Perhaps there are times when we need not know of it.

They’re not in your pockets. Not in your jacket either. You know that they don’t have feet, can’t walk off on their own. But it’s like they did. Doing that just to annoy you, to make your life more stressful, complicated.

You check the nightstand, which is where you usually leave them at. Right beside the silver-colored lamp. They’re not there, and you don’t have time to find them. You have to head out to work now, but you can’t drive without the car key. Can’t lock the front door without the house key either.

You frantically search for them, scouring through the bedroom, the living room, under the sofa, through the pockets of the pants you wore yesterday. Everywhere, it turns up empty.

Ten minutes past. You’re late for work. You know that traffic gets worse the later you leave. It’s like a mathematical formula: each minute you’re late adds four minutes to your trip. Your heart’s racing, your breathing is tense, nonstop. You feel like you’re going to lose your mind. All because of keys!

As you retrace your footsteps from that morning, as well as from yesterday evening, you suddenly stop. You realize it’s hopeless, that maybe you have to call in sick. Take the day off to find them. Waste precious energy to find something that should’ve been . . .

A light bulb goes off in your mind.

You storm out the front door and run to your car. You stop at the driver-side window and gaze inside. There they are–resting on the carseat. They had been there all night, quietly waiting for your return.

You pull the handle, but it’s locked. How are you going get in? Where is the extra car key? Where had you left it?

Trying to maintain the appearance of normal can be our own worse enemy. It’s like trying to keep the facade nice and shiny, when inside (spiritually, psychological), things are deteriorating, falling apart. There’s that saying: keeping up with the Joneses, even though that might not be where we’re supposed to be. Isn’t everyone in a different spot, in a different stage of life socially, financially, and experientially?

Normal is the average, the middle part of the bell curve. But life isn’t static. We move up and down the curve depending on the changes that occur throughout the months and years. We might suddenly decide to change jobs, move, go back to school, work longer hours, or have unexpected emergency bills.

When the weekend comes, we think we have a reprieve from the work week, from all the effort we put into having things appear as normal. Instead, we catch up on all of the things that didn’t get done during the week, or catching up with family and friends when we attend dinner or social events. See. Everything is normal.

Next week, the bustling starts all over. Week after week, month after month. Does it ever end? Does it only end in retirement?

Maybe it never ends. When we’re retired, we’ll be beset by new challenges, new dilemmas. Health issues, financial ups and downs–whatever. Perhaps the problem was trying to maintain the appearance of normal all along.

Maybe each day isn’t supposed to be normal. Maybe life is about the unexpected curve balls, fast balls, and slow balls that come our way, and swinging (or not swinging) accordingly. Each day isn’t a static routine and experience like the law of gravity. We treat it like is though. Maybe that’s the problem.