Calendar: Depressing Distance Markers

Time really freaks me out. I can’t even begin to comprehend it, yet it governs almost every (if not every) aspect of my life as a human being participating daily in civilization. Obviously, as this is late, I’m horrible at managing time. I sleep odd hours, eat intermittently, am often late to work, and stay out through all hours of the night. Most of this can be attributed to the fact that I’m 21 and have a lot of friends, but when I sit down and think introspectively, as Calendar made me do, I realize that time blows my mind. Hours pass and sometimes feel like minutes, sometimes like an eternity. Memories of years ago feel as close as yesterday, but the future seems like a different lifetime. I’ve said before in a state of melancholy that the days of the week are just depressing distance markers which I don’t really pay much mind to, but really who can keep track of days without the calendar we accept as a “truth” from birth? Bedtime, nap time, lunch time, breakfast time, bath time, time-out, time to open presents, time to get on the bus… Learned from childhood, time punctuates our tumbling through the ebb and flow of life. Calendar forced me to look harshly at how I mark time, and I realized that I don’t consciously. The use of different film effects (handheld camera as opposed to a steady shot indoors, etc) helps to mark different times in the film, as well as photographs on a calendar. I feel as if the different mediums help to distinguish between different eras well, as they’re supposed to. The time marker of when our main character pours his date another glass of wine as her queue to get up and make a phone call is also interesting because it’s the main character controlling lengths of time actively. I feel like this ties in closely with memory as discussed in Sans Soliel in that time is just a concept as is memory. Time juxtaposes memory alongside “progression” or “change” that we define and measure in “time”. To put memory along a linear path such as time is interesting because I guess it’s our only way of distinguishing between what is happening and what has happened. But if you consider a text such as the Vonnegut novel, Slaughterhouse-Five, in which time is analytically analyzed as something manmade, it’s weird to consider what if memories are only as close as they feel? My childhood memories occasionally feel like just yesterday and are powerful enough to elicit the same feelings I felt when I was living those moments, so why is it that time attempts to put such a distance between me and them? I think the director hits this spot on when the main character is reminiscing and demonstrates that he feels strongly about his past, and torn from it by the passing of time.

Works Cited (consulted, but not enough room to directly refer to without going into excessive detail)

Robinson, Anne. “Travelling eye: the elusive digital frame and the elasticity of time in art.” Journal of Media Practice 11.3 (2010): 215-229. Communication & Mass Media Complete. EBSCO. Web. 9 May 2011.

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