dazed and confused: Time

Hello, my name is Dazed and Confused, and I AM a time-aholic. I HAVE to know what time it is. It doesn't matter if I have to be anywhere, or nowhere. I must know the time, at least approximately. I find myself checking my phone at least 50 times a day. I own no watches. If I did, I would check my wrist as well. Nothing drives me crazier than forgetting my phone on the charger. I hate it. The day goes by so agonizingly slow until I finally traipse my way through the door to my room, and I am finally able to slide my crappy, old, decrepit POS phone into my pocket. Now, some of you are wondering, "Why this rant? Why now? What brought this about?" Well, I shall answer those questions for you, in the order you put them to me.

Because I need to get this out.

Why not now?

The price of time pieces. Now I know I totally lost you in that last answer, so let me back up in my day and clue you in. Actually, I will back up a couple of days. Chad in his last blog caused me to comment about before mentioned checking of my phone for the time. Since then, it has haunted my sub-conscience. Questions have rattled around in the very empty space between my ears. Remembrances of Calvin and Hobbes dissertations have promptly followed. Why is it that good times go by so quickly, and yet hard, depressing, distressing, painful, and uncomfortable times drag by as if each second is a year? Why does this week seem to be dragging by, and yet the months are flying? Why are some of us given such short, empty times here on earth (cue my friend’s funeral last week) and yet others are given such long, filled times (cue everybody’s loved grandparents)? And finally, why is it that someone's social status is indicated by an instrument that measures those relentless ticks to the grave? I don't know. Those are definitely going to be some of the questions I pose to God when I finally see Him. I have a feeling it is going to take about half of eternity for my thick head to grasp those concepts. But honestly, what social status do you automatically think of when you read the words Rolex, Timex, Tagheuser (sp?), and Porsche? Upper-class, middleclass/poor, upper-class, and elite; in that order. You might wonder what Porsche is doing in that list? I will tell you, they make watches. Maybe "they" don't, but their name is on the case.

I was walking through one of the malls here in Dallas and saw a little shop called "Porsche Designs." As I walked in, I noticed that both sales reps were wearing three piece suits. My money sense started to tingle. "How much are these products going to cost?" immediately became the litany in my mind. A short perusal of the merchandise gave no clue, since there were no price tags on any of the watches, pipes, cigar cutters, glasses, attaché cases, back-packs, or doo-dads. When I finally worked up the nerve to ask the all-important question, the man helpfully informed me that the one watch (on the shelf) was fifty-one, and the other was fifty-four (cue mumble here) hundred dollars. Since I didn't quite catch that last bit I asked him if it was $51 and $54 or $5,100 and $5,400. As I asked the question, my brain is going, "$51 isn't too bad for a watch. I was expecting $100 or so." You can imagine my surprise, my gut-dropping, throat-seizing surprise when he clarified it. These watches did not look that impressive. Brushed titanium bands and body, date window, and three to four hands. That's it, and yet they cost almost as much as both of my vehicles put together (original buying price, not market devalued). Later that day, I stopped for directions at a clock shop. Inside were beautiful grandfather clocks, mantel clocks, wall clocks, and ordinary run of the mill cheapo looking clocks. As I was leaving I decided to find out the prices of a couple. I stopped at the first price because it was sufficiently pricey to almost give me a heart attack. The grandfather clock right by the check-out counter was a "steal" at $10,000. Yep, that one clock was worth more than every...single...possession...I...own...put...together. The craziest part is that some people would put down cash when buying it. Do you know anybody that carries ten thousand dollars in large unmarked bills? One or two of the drug runners I ran into in Mexico maybe, but that is it.