And it’s relative because… well, we humans created it. We took a perfectly well structured universe that has continued on for billions of years using its own special order for certain events and decided that we’d rather deal with the tedious minute to minute things instead of the big picture of life. Then we became obsessed with our version of time.

We deem people inadequate if they show up to a job interview at 2:01 instead of 1:55. Judge those who wake up at noon and go to bed at 3:00am. Impose weekly and monthly deadlines on artists and writers whose muses sit in shock while their pupils throw away their dreams for short-lived pop-culture sensations. Students rush to finish their Bachelor’s degrees in 3, sometimes even 2 years, cramming for exams and choosing a 4.0 GPA over sleep.

What is 2 years in the sense of the world? Our small planet revolves twice around a lone star in one of the infinite amount of galaxies across the universe. Yet we focus all our attention on the 24 hours we’ve allocated to each day. When did 21 become synonymous with “old” and “midlife crisis” became mandatory to get through your 40’s? When did our desire to meet deadlines trump our desire to relax and enjoy life?

With the knowledge and technology we have today living to 100 isn’t just a possibility, it’s pretty much a guarantee. Of course there are things we choose to do to shorten our life – smoke, drink, tan – but for every one of them we have cures – diets, rehab programs, doctors… Still, I find many people dreaming about how they’ll die in their 50’s after the kids are off to college and they’ve collected their early retirement money. Where are we all rushing too?

This is the way I’ve always seen it, yet still sometimes forget as the whirlwind of our society engulfs me: We are given this one life to live in our physical body. (Whether you believe in reincarnation or not, no life is the same either way) We are all born to look different, given different parents, homes, cultures… different minds. No human being is the same as another. No one thinks the same or acts the same. We’re all on this path to grow our souls and understand a little bit more about God and the wonderful world he has created. It’s long and somewhat difficult, but we have enough time to make our mistakes, to learn from them, and to move beyond the mundane material things; beyond the time restraints that we have created for ourselves.

So this is where Day 4 of my self-induced rehab has brought me. At 21, being able to out-drink most girls and even some guy-friends twice my size every night of the week doesn’t make me an alcoholic. Trying most mainstream drugs at least twice, or eight times – weed, coke, boomers, X, acid, even K – doesn’t make me a drug addict. Surviving a whole semester of school on adderral with a B average and no sleep hasn’t made me crazy. (At least not more crazy than I already was.)

Yet since I’ve had my mini-nervous breakdown, dropped out of classes for the rest of summer (with every intention to come back for the fall semester), and decided to sober up cold-turkey, the world has once again become an open book. It’s slowed down drastically. My dreams are more vivid than they’ve ever been and you know dreams tell a lot about life. They show you what you truly want, help you make important decisions, alleviate your fears and sometimes create new ones. And the philosophical, spiritual, big picture outlook on life has come back while disgusting cigarette smoking habits fell away. The future looks bright with the light of wisdom and joy, and really that’s what all of us are looking for when we get lost in the labyrinth of illusions which our cultural poisons leads us into.

There’s this wonderful person that I recently got to know on a very intimate and spiritual level. He told me that I was the most intriguing person he’s ever met. He thinks I’m insightful and open minded and weird. He told me I speak of things that others are afraid to even think about. That I see the world the way he does and that I realize how much more there is to life while the masses run from job to job, bar to bar, watching God’s wonders pass them by.

I’m always told I that I can’t take a compliment, and true to my nature I’m incapable of accepting this one. I know what I am and I know what I’m not and I know that there are dozens of people like me out there: those who think about the same things I do. Some know more, some know less. The longer I am on this path, the more of them I meet, my friend not being my first or last.

So here comes the part I’ve been dreading all day. They say that to write a blog, you should choose what you’re most passionate about; the topic you understand the best. Some say that the best way to start a blog is to pick a project and record its progress daily while strangers read about your struggles and successes. I can’t really pin point what my material passion is and definitely can’t think of anything I’m exceptionally good at. I love reading, writing, discovering. I love philosophy and spirituality. Sometimes I love watching the news and sometimes I hate it. I don’t know much about car engines or tech gadgets or celebrity gossip or cooking recipes. I major in business, but that doesn’t make me an expert.

I love talking about what I’ve learned though, and love giving people advice. I love showing my friends or even just random strangers life from a different, sometimes bizarre, perspective. I love hearing other people’s views. See where they’ve been in life and where they are now. I like to help people. Sometimes I lead people to fix their life. Sometimes I fail and they walk away barely remembering my name. This new friend of mine has finally pushed me to stop and think – why can’t my obscure opinions and outlooks be used by others. Maybe I can inspire someone I’ve never met. Maybe someone out here in the world wide web will find my crazy disorganized train of thought useful. He has.

– Ms. CleverClocks