The Hours : A Time Frame That Is Changed With The Speed Of Sound Essay

In a Tale of Two Cities, famous author Charles Dickens stated, “These are the best of times; these are the worst of times…” Being a teenager in today’s society, it is really easy to apply that quote to my personal feelings on this time in my life. Teenage years, also called adolescence, is a generally confusing time filled with many ups and downs. These ups and downs represent what is described as the best, and the worst, times of our lives.

Seconds gave birth to minutes and minutes to hours, yet my concentration remained resolute. Despite the daunting nature of the task, I remained determined in what I had to achieve. For the first time applying some rudimentary scientific ideas I managed to build an intricate model of a toy car. “You shall grow up to become an Engineer one day,” my father exclaimed gazing at my laudable piece of creativity. I was only eleven and yet those prophetic words unknowingly chartered my future course for me.

Teenage years are, without argument, the most confusing and difficult years of a person’s life as they

Who knew High School would be over in a blink of an eye? Four short years and a whole chapter of your life is over. The goal everyone was striving to achieve was completed, yet an even bigger thing was approaching “Life”. All 365 of us would venture out into the world and start new journeys hundreds of miles apart.

No matter what changes in your life you still go to school and you are still dependent upon your parents. You continually go to school, but it changes because every year you go to a new grade. You are constantly getting older, so that remains the same, but once you hit a certain age you can start driving. The driving part is new, so because you kept growing

There’s four main seasons that occur throughout the year. I’ve always loved the saying “like the seasons we change.” When I hear this saying I like to think of a tree; how it can go from being a little sprout, to small tree with only branches, to being so full of life with colors and leaves everywhere. This tree withstands the scorching hot summers, the brutal cold winters and all of what is in between. This tree stands strong and continues to grow and mature through it all. I would compare myself to this tree as I have grown, and matured as well. Throughout my four years of high school I’ve changed just like the seasons.

sat in my 8th hour room, staring at the clock, waiting for it to finally hit 3:05. After what felt like an eternity I heard the ring of the bell and a wave of students rushed out into the summer air. Summer was finally here and I couldn’t be happier. I had a whole three months to do whatever I wanted. No homework, no tests, no teachers. I hopped on my bus that would drive me home and deliver me to freedom.

The most critical time in a person’s life is their teenage years. It’s the time where you truly find yourself and become the person you envision yourself to be. Being a teen is some of the best times of your life, but also the hardest. You are caught in this awkward in between stage where you are stumbling towards adulthood and all you want to do is be taken seriously, but you are also terrified. You are confused, just trying to figure everything out, and society expects you to make decisions that will affect the rest of your life.

.“Getting here from where I was as a child wasn’t just handed to me,” he explained, “It took a lot of hard work, dedication, and sacrificing not only time, but my energy, and everything that I lived for.” Growing up was one of the most difficult times of his life. On one hand, he had to deal with his alcoholic father. And on the the other, he had to manage never being able to see his mother, who worked 14 hour shifts daily. But, this absence of his mother actually became one of the biggest

As the moon casts its light through the wooden blinds, at almost two to two after midnight, the flickering shadows and boisterous snores of twenty other individuals, who share my room, keep me wide awake. Eventually, I close my eyes, only to open them a few hours later. The very roommates who kept me awake through the night, now ruin my sleep as they scramble to get in line to take a shower at the only bathhouse in the tumbledown structure where I lived. I shake the rheum off my eyes and head toward the bathhouse. It’s still dark outside but the sporadic cock crows remind me it’s morning. After showering, I eat a light meal and begin my thirty-minute trek to school. My day had just begun and I am already exhausted. Under these stressful conditions, I forged a resolve to shape my future and improve the lives of others who find themselves in similar conditions. Thus, in every area of my life, I endeavor to go the extra mile and strive for success.

Finally and, somewhat miraculously, we made it through to the middle schooling years, those years where our future plans were wrung from our tenuous ‘maybe I might like to be a …… journalist……no, wait a minute, an architect…….. no, OK, I am sure this time that I want to be a juggler in the Cirque de Soleil. By this time too, our friendship groups had probably shattered, been pieced together again and then morphed again as old friends and new ones redefined our social relationships. These years are one of the most memorable moments of our lives, because these were the years that things started to get real. We had just that little bit more freedom and sass to boot. We were finally able to choose our subjects that we wanted to do, such as choosing

Time and time again, I find myself sitting, thinking, and letting my mind wander wherever it takes me. In the most intricate trails of thought, I am able to bend time. My thought processes carry me into new grounds–uncharted territories–that in no way, shape or form represent the mechanical ticking of a clock. What is felt to be hours of deep concentration about inventions, ideas and far-away places that–in reality–consumed just a few brief minutes.

I still vividly remember the late nights of my sophomore and junior years. A typical day would start with going through all my classes at school, followed by either football practice or lifting weights. Then finally getting home at around six to seven and starting a long night of homework. The days were long and stressful during this time. It was definitely a challenging part of my life having to balance all of my obligations during the school year. Another part of being a teenager that can be difficult is change. There are many childhood friends that I still have a great relationship with, but there are also some who I have not talked to in years. Not only did my relationships with others change, but my outlook on the world and society changed as well. I began to start to see the problems that we have as a human race. It was a hard pill to swallow realizing that the world is not how I thought it was when I was younger.

Time always seems to change. 10 minutes in the dentist’s waiting room could fell like an hour and 10 minutes with friends and family could fell much less than it is. How we interpret time in most cases or not the same. The way we feel and age differentiations express how we view time. Time seems to wheeze quicker and quicker as age develops. Obviously age doesn’t give people the ability to change the speed of time. Psychologist William James marked the reason why humanity perceives time differently is because we continue to gain less and less experiences. Experiences such as memorable actions and the first time doing something (first time skiing, first time working, first kiss, etc.) as we start to lack new “memorable actions” the “days and weeks [to] smooth themselves out…and the years grow hollow and collapse.”

A call came that I needed to come home, if I did not come now I would regret it. Ohio bound, the next flight out, luggage packed, and tears streaming down my face. I prayed that time would be on myside. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. Why is time so stagnant? Years have passed since I have been to visit. Walking along that old beat up fence on a brisk autumn day a tear rolls down my cheek. The beautiful old oak tree seems frail and withered. More leaves have fallen since last I have been here. The branches have been stripped bare exposing more of the bark that has faded to ghostly shades of white and grey. A light breeze stirs the leaves causing the rope swing to sway back and forth. The last few leaves are barely holding on. Sitting beneath the tree my tears create a small puddle upon a leaf. Rippling across the top a reflection appears, but not myself as an adult. A small child with flour upon her cheek, her tiny hands