waiting in an airport.
So I'm sitting here in the Los Angeles International airport. I've been here for about five and a half hours, and I'll be here for another two. I came here off a three and a half hour flight from Calgary, where I spent two hours in the airport. But for the life of me, I can't figure out where this time has gone.I've spent the vast majority of my time just sitting around, staring out into space. It seems as though my mind has turned off. I can recall events: I slept for about an hour, I finished watching Watchmen, I ate a pizza, I walked around the airport terminal, I went through security twice. But all the events that I can recall add up to about two hours, three hours tops. So where did the rest of the time go? Obviously the time happened. I did something to fill up that time. But even now, I can't figure out what I've been doing. A while ago, I learned about how the brain sometimes can't recall events that it doesn't deem as important. But that usually happens after your brain has time to actually go through the day and sort out what's important and what's not. I think at happens during sleep. But is it possible that at some parts, instead of recording memory and deleting it later, the brain just doesn't record? Could it be that, during most of this day, my brain just thought: "fuck it, I'm not even going to try with this"? I'm no neurologist, but it might be a possibility. And if that's the case, what is my brain going to sort through when I go to sleep? It has a lot less data to go through. Here's an example: I'm sitting here at gate 132. For the last couple hours, however, I was sitting in a booth in the food court. Although I know that I came to this spot about fifteen minutes ago, I don't remember actually getting up and walking all the way over here. It's crazy to think that I can't remember stuff that happened less than an hour ago, just because it's so benign that it's not even worth creating a memory of. Or maybe I'm just sleep deprived. My next flight should fix that. I have 16 hours to kill once that giant tube of metal decides it wants to just be thirty thousand feet above anything that can be considered a surface. There's not going to be anything to look at out the window (the only thing more interesting than staring at endless ocean for hours is staring at endless ocean in the middle of the night. Fun, fun, fun. Obviously, I brought stuff to do: I have Machiavelli's The Prince to read, along with the entire Song of Ice and Fire series, or I could watch season four of Warehouse 13, I have a various podcasts to listen to, or I could draw, or I could sleep. Seeing as I'm flying from 10pm today (Sunday) until 6am Tuesday, I should spend my time sleeping. It's really just an obese night and should be spent thusly. I am tired now, and should promptly fall asleep once in the air, but I can safely assume that I'll only sleep for three or four disappointingly short hours. After that: "hello Adam Todd Brown." After those sixteen hours (eight hours?) if I'm not sufficiently fatigued, I have the option of starting off a brand new, Australian Tuesday. Fun, fun, fun. The sun's setting now. I woke up when the sun rose this morning, and my journey will finally be over when the sun rises on Tuesday. These two days feel like one day, even though it's some grotesque, 30-hour hybrid. And none of this would have happened if scientists could have just let well-enough alone, instead of resculpting the Earth from it's flat, center-of-the-universe self to it's globular, spinning-millions-of-miles-per-hour-around-a-giant-burning-ball-of-gas-that-itself-is-spinning-bajillions-of-miles-per-hour-around-an-even-more-giant-burning-ball-of-gas-that-is-only-an-infinitely-tiny-speck-in-the-entire-existence-of-everything-spinning-and-burning-all-around-everything-else-and-is-probably-on-the-back-of-a-turtle self (it's turtles all the way down, man). The long story short is that things move fast, and yet it seems to take forever.