Alert the physicists!

 Michael Chandos

Alert the physicists! Time has changed. For me, at least. When I was a kid, sometimes time dragged by. Now, with me over 70, time flies by.  WHY?

When I graduated from college, I was in the Air Force. I traveled. Started a family. Bought cars and a house. Took the equivalent of online schools. Started a Masters program. But I still found time to write.

Strictly an amateur, I wrote for fanzines and online blogs, before they were called blogs. One was a Star Trek-inspired writing club organized like crew members on an Enterprise-type ship. Each contributing writer developed a character from Star Trek, complete with a bio, an image (which a talented member drew to our specification). I was an Andorian security and intelligence officer. A Redshirt. Then we picked a theme or mission scenario to write stories featuring our character. The "Captain" pulled the stories together into a spiral bound anthology for the members' enjoyment.

I started collecting background data on mystery and SF subjects, stored in boxes that I dragged through four successive house moves. Apparently, filing was optional. I still have a couple of the boxes of articles, pictures and notes. There's gold in there.

I left the service for the aerospace industry. I still took classes, but now I added live theater. I moved twice to new-to-us houses. I started Vintage Racing in a 1964 Formula car. I still wrote. I researched, wrote, pitched and sold a volume of military history. I sold my first SF story for 10 bucks.

I left industry for Federal Civil Service. More classes (Air War College), lots of travel, a new house, still racing, still doing theater, at a higher level, took college and professional theater courses. Got an agent, did commercials. Sold several mysteries, even one SF story to a Scottish publisher. Finally, retired from the 9-5.

Started a business, a private investigations LLC, just me. Was very busy. Licensed in two States. Sold the race car. Theater and travel tapered off. Bought a buy & die house that took a year of my time. I had my first professional sale to a mystery anthology, then 12 others, joined groups like the Mystery Writers of America.

Finally closed the business. 

Oh Boy! I was unburdened and had loads of time to write. Except I didn't. 

I was busy doing "stuff", like painting and repair. I did housework. Days passed like telephone poles seen from a train. I had to ask people or look at my phone to make sure I was aware of the day of the week. I didn't have a solid fix on the month or hour either. I did less writing. Less writing. Less sales. WTH.

I am sure some evil experiment or geophysical anomaly has altered time.

Anyone out there in contact with Einstein?