The Construct Of Time

Day 151: Every year at this juncture (and again in late autumn), I find myself puzzling over humanity's innate masochistic tendencies. Governing bodies seat themselves to debate whether or not Daylight Time should be made permanent or abandoned altogether, all the while knowing full well that again they will come to no resolution, wasting the very thing under discussion along with another of Mankind's constructs, the taxpayers' money. Time and money have caused more problems than any other matters except perhaps religion, all three being totally artificial constructs of society. I must note here that there are some cultures which do not acknowledge the Western concept of time; enlightened people, these, who spare themselves being regulated by ticks, tocks, and lighted displays. The duration of daylight is not affected by Man's intervention. It is simply reallotted. All our efforts to gain control of the situation are futile, and yet we continue to bang our heads against the wall as if we believe we can manipulate the universe to our will. Life would be so much simpler if people would just get up with the sun and go to bed when it gets dark. They might find they didn't have time to stir up trouble about Time.

Contrary March

Day 147: Just as battle lines are drawn between political parties in an election year, the institution of Daylight Time separates modern Man into discrete and highly combative camps. I'm on the left with my fellow "morning people" who gladly exchange darker mornings for extended evening hours. I get up in the dark regardless of the season. My body's alarm clock is naturally set for pre-dawn. On the flip side, the autumn reversion to Standard Time invariably lowers a cloud of gloom over my head. Where did the lovely light go? Damn, I'd better get off the Mountain before it's too dark to see the trail. Is it bedtime yet? Homo sap is influenced by diurnal rhythms than he may care to admit; after all, we've supposedly cast aside the animal instincts which tell us to sleep longer in the winter, and to be most active during the long summer days. That said, the seasons exert pressures on us as well, and this morning's burden of snow shocked a vividly purple list of profanities from my lips when I threw back the curtains with plans for a nature walk in the forefront of my mind. As I stepped out to feed the birds, the chill cut through my jeans. I don't do cold as well as I did when I was younger. I beat a hasty retreat back to the blanketing warmth of a large, fat cat on my lap. Even as I write this, well past my lunchtime, the snow has not gone from the shadows and hollows of the yard. Daylight Time? What about Summer Time?