Six Weeks from Sunday. . .

Time. It's a funny thing. We waste it, pass it, bide it. Heck, sometimes we even KILL it.

Often, time seems long. When you're eight and waiting for Christmas. At work, when it's only 2:30 PM. Other times, it flies. When you're out with friends and suddenly its 2:30 AM. When you turn 40 and realize according to most actuary table, your life is HALF OVER.

Sigh.

But, FM and I tend to measure time differently. We refer to years by which country we were living in. Which, in our little universe, makes last year pretty much wasted time. And, although I can say I was in Macedonia, Croatia, Peru, Arizona and Vegas (and FM can add Mexico and Columbia), it still feels like we were home most of '09. And we WERE.

Now, It's been a year and a half since Beijing. Three years since Hong Kong. Five years since Rome. Seven years since Chad (shudder). Ten years since we were married.

Damn.

Which means I've been married for 25% of my life. Have known FM for 37.5% (of course, his stats are different, he's only been married for 17.8%, known me for 25%. He started late. . . heehee).

And last year? That wasted year? I was able to reunionize with people I haven't seen in HALF OF MY LIFE. Talk about time flying by. . .

The stats themselves are not important or impressive, just a reminder of how fast time elapses.

In the words of William Shakespeare, "Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, Creeps in this petty pace of day to day."

Petty pace? Often I muse upon the ways I spend my days. Is it a waste of time to do the things we enjoy? Is reading a book a waste of time? Does it depend on what you are reading? When DOES it become a waste of time? When you are doing it instead of something else? Is Facebooking (is that a verb?) a waste of time? Watching television? Sitting on the beach? Taking a walk? What if I decide to not even leave the house? It can assume a petty pace, but tomorrows always beckon.

But, eventually we run out of tomorrow. Sometimes suddenly. Or the people we love cannot count another day.

The passage of time just feels sad. Not only in what it physically does to us, but in the lost seconds, hours, days and years we can never respend.

How do we live in the moment? How do you pass the time? What makes your time "worthwhile"? Being paid? Helping others? Enjoying yourself? All three?

I've been pondering this concept of time. The only conclusion I have discovered is, even if I have a hard time filling it, I want more than what I have coming.

This Sunday, we'll have been in Montevideo for six weeks. A relatively short period of time, but a chunk of my life that has figuratively flown by. And, I kind of want it back to relive and enjoy again. Yet, I also look forward to the next six weeks. And the next.

Time. It's such a conundrum.

Men talk of killing time, while time quietly kills them. - Dion Boucicault.