Friday, December 12, 2014
We are in the middle of a hysterical discussion here at Type M. It's about time. It started innocently enough with our faithful blogmeister, Rick Blechta, suggesting that we give a little thought to our scheduling. By this he meant instead of scheduling our post for 3:00 am (or just whenever) schedule for the earliest time, which is midnight. He could not understand the reasoning behind the strange variations.
I led off with an immediate frantic response that I didn't know when midnight was in military time. Actually Type M schedules on normal time and 12:00 a.m. has never seemed right to me when it's dark as the devil outside. So I always schedule my post for 12:30 a.m. which seems safer. When I blog for Poisoned Pen Press, it's on military time and 12:00 a.m. (midnight) is expressed by 00:00 which to my thinking is no time at all. It's free time. Time that isn't going anywhere. Meaningless time. Don't you agree? I mean, all those zeros.
Donis chimed in next that she was on AZ time which agrees with the rest of America most of the year but stubbornly refuses to cooperate with daylight savings time. I never know what time it is in AZ. I always ask Google before I call anyone in that state.
We have a number of readers around the world. Heavens! The day isn't even right with some of our posts. Much to our delight we have very supportive readers in Russia. I'm not even going to go there in my time calculations.
Aline Templeton lives in Scotland. She said she doesn't know what time it is either. She always posts at 6:30 a.m. because she knows America is six hours behind. Besides, she always thought 12:00 a.m was midday.
I will post this blog for 12:00 a.m. and see where it gets me.
Time has never been a stable commodity. An older lady told me once that when they put lights on tractors, it ruined time and everything else. Before that, farmers could only work from sunup to sundown. With lights on equipment they could work half the night if they wanted to. Time no longer followed the sun. Previously, the womenfolk could tell with a glance when the men would be coming in from the field. Hard telling when to have supper on the table after the arrival of lights.
This year has defied every natural law of the universe. Time spun out of control. Were there actually twelve months? January changed to June and then raced on to December. No wonder we poor bloggers with our over-developed right brains are looking shell-shocked.
And behind time, I might add.