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Ashley Burrup
Mrs. Jackie Burr, Instructor
Section 7, English 1010
6 October 2016
Peculiar Clocks
I often catch myself looking up at the clock in class, wondering when I can escape,
looking toward what I need to do next, wandering into the world of my own thoughts. Every
minute seems to lengthen into eternity; a never-ending struggle towards the next second, inching
along in an excruciating suspension of time. And yet, I experience those short-lived days where I
fly by the seat of my pants, having the time of my life, floating along in a stimulating suspension,
or in some cases dissipation, of time. Those days, no clocks exist, or they only linger for a
moment and then disappear. As I cruise along at a leisurely stride, I find myself becoming
absorbed in the people and atmosphere around me. Taking in the scenery slowly, bit by bit, I
enjoy every second.
Clocks are very peculiar things. They keep us in a constant state of movement and action;
a constant state of looking forward, progress, and development. This can be a good thing, surely,
because it keeps everyone on the same track, at the same speed. Clocks have become a
companion, a necessary companion. Needed in the world today, punctuality is such a highly
esteemed value in a variety of circumstances and occasions. Times, instances, and activities
expect us to be on time. So clocks must become a companion, an acquaintance, perhaps a friend.
Yet clocks abruptly interrupt a moment. They swiftly take focus from one thing and put that
focus elsewhere.

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Mr. Thorpe, my choir director, impressed this consciousness of clocks upon me. Last
year, the clock in his room hung in the front of the classroom, on the wall to our right. Seeing
every glance towards the beckoning clock- every flicker of eyes in that direction- made him
extremely frustrated. Every time he saw this gravitation towards the clock, he showed his
frustration because we werent completely present and focused. Completely focused attention
requires no thought in mind except the action on which we concentrate our attention.
This experience heightened my awareness of time. When I am constantly glancing at the
clock, I am not fully present, whether in a conversation with a friend or in a class at school.
Talking with my friend in the hallway in between classes a few days ago, I found myself looking
at the clock on my phone. I was innocently wondering when I needed to get to class, but as soon
as I looked at that clock, I felt an immediate disconnect from the conversation taking place. That
clock took my focus away from my friend and thrust it elsewhere. That pleasant conversation
with one of my best friends then began to stretch and stretch into an incredibly, almost
unbearably, long two-minute conversation. This is not because I didnt like the person I was
talking to, but because my mind was now fixed on what I needed to do next.
Likewise, I have had amazing days where clocks barely exist. I had one such day just last
week. My friend and I went horseback riding for hours on end, but it seemed like only a moment
in time. Riding through the hills on our horses, with the wind blowing across our faces and the
smell of the recent downpour, clocks ceased to exist. Time, pleasant and refreshing, passed by in
the blink of an eye. Finishing riding, we went to Nightmare on 13th, a haunted house downtown.
As we escaped the terrifying monsters, it seemed that we had been in the haunted house for
perhaps a total of 10 minutes, maybe less. My clock indicated otherwise. We had been in the

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frightening haunted house for forty-five minutes. I realized, after we had gotten back to the car,
that I hadnt even looked at my phone, or my clock, for hours. How strange that hours can seem
like minutes and minutes can seem like hours. How curious that any thought or feeling of time
can disappear, yet other times it pulls me along at an alarmingly rapid pace.
Time is a fascinating anomaly. It always moves forward in a perpetual state of motion.
Sometimes it can feel as if it has stopped and become suspended in midair. At times, it seems to
be pushing me along at every twist and turn. Then there are moments when it seems like a
companionship. Me and time, time and me, moving in tandem, walking along at a steady pace
down a dusty dirt road.
A few years ago, when my brother was born, I held him for the first time. Losing track of
time, I wasnt thinking of the homework that I needed to do or where I needed to go. I looked
into his little eyes, the finger curling around my finger, and got lost in that moment. Clocks
dissipate for that single, suspended moment where the seconds lengthen and stretch into an
eternity, and it seems like you could stay there, frozen, forever.
I remember talking to my grandfather and grandmother about their lives. We asked them
a variety of questions about themselves to put together a little documentary- so that we would
never forget. We asked them the traditional favorite questions: Whats your favorite color?
Whats your favorite movie? Whats your favorite song? For practically every single
question, they didnt have an answer; they didnt care about those things. However, when asked,
Whats your favorite memory?, they expounded on amazing, sentimental stories. None of
these stories were about a job or school, or material things. They were about time spent with
people, with family, with friends. They were about time spent living. The things that we

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remember in life are the ones where time disappears. Clocks deteriorate, leaving only the
moment that is left behind.