The Souls of African-Americans

One of the best readings in the entirety of this class was DuBois’ excerpt on the souls of African-Americans. Specifically, DuBois asks questions that are outside the realm of conversation for most of us, including what it means to be African-Americans in a society that doesn’t favor you and what identity means within that characterization. Early on in his passage, DuBois asks a very specific, pointed and frightening question: “how does it feel to be a problem?” Of course, he is not asking this question from his own point of view but rather that of white people, many of whom, particularly in the southern portion of the United States, had their slaves emancipated just years before. This identity crisis undoubtedly played a role in DuBois’ writing.

This writing is so fascinating to me because I have never had DuBois’ experience – that is, of being a problem. My race of people always thought of itself as the “solution” when in reality, it was actually part of the problem. People like DuBois were seemingly tortured, harassed and treated as less-than-equal since the beginning of their existence, and to an extent, they were made to feel as though their complete identity had to do with being treated as the inferior race. This, of course, was by design, and for many years, whites were able to get away with making minorities feel like they were born as a problem. This is why DuBois has to confront this sad reality in his writings; the group of people he belonged to was being treated illegitimately, as the problem.

DuBois also brings up another interesting point, which is the importance of songs in the reclamation of the black identity. This is still true today, as genres like hip hop and rhythm and blues have helped reshape and revolutionize African-American identity. However, let’s remember why music was so important to these people. While whites relied on folk music and oral tradition to reliably pass stories and heritage onto their descendants without incident, African-Americans routinely had their identities questioned by the very people who were supposed to protect them. Therefore, self-identity became an important tool for minorities to reclaim a strong sense of self. In this case, it was no different; DuBois is merely talking about how people like him used music in a positive way. In this sense, though, it was more than just occupational; it was necessary.

Symbols of Evolution

There are some old methods of measuring time, separate from standard clocks, that fascinate me. However, one of them that I had not thought about – and I still don’t know why – was tree rings and dendrochronology. Dendrochronology is the study of tree dating and the growth of rings in trees to study how old they are. Dendrochronologists, according to the University of Arizona, use tree rings to answer questions about the natural world and the place of humans in its functioning. However, this seemingly simple study can tell us a lot more about the natural world than we may have been able to previously imagine.

Around us, every day, we can see symbols of the world’s evolution. Many of these are obvious; smartphones, electric cars, Apple Watches, televisions, etc. However, another clear symbol of evolution, or lack thereof, is trees, which have been around for as long as humans have existed. Dendrochronology can play a significant role in studying this evolution because trees are a symbol of how far we have come. Dendrochronology is also an interesting study because it can tell us things about the environment, like how trees were weathered over time and how external changes in climate have affected the trees’ overall health. With the environment gradually warming over the last 200 years – which also serves as a prescient indicator of time – trees can serve as a symbol of how far we’ve come and how far we still have to go.

In summation, trees can give us a sense of where we’ve been, where we are and where we’re going. An accurate understanding of our past is so important because if we do not understand our history, we are doomed to repeat it. Trees are such an accurate, unfailing representation of our history. It is also fascinating to study these natural phenomena of the universe, like trees, because we can also gain an appreciation for how much different our understanding of time would have been in a different era. If we were born in the 1800s, for example, how much slower would our lives have been? And how much different would we have lived our lives? These are all questions that must be considered, but one of the places we can look to for the answers, believe it or not, is a tree.

The Meaning of America Is Different for Everyone

One of the most interesting readings in this class was one I only got the chance to read after I transferred in: “Let America Be America Again” by Langston Hughes. In this poem, Hughes reminds us that not everyone is free and until everyone is, America is not the land of the free, per se. Thus, America cannot be considered as such until it fulfills the same promise for all of its citizens. This leads into an interesting discussion of time and how different people can have very different conceptions of it.

For one, I found Hughes’ point of view on this subject to be fascinating, considering that he was one of the first popular African-American poets our country has ever had. I also wanted to focus this post on the important discussion of what time means to those who are enslaved. To me, this is similar to the discussion we had with Natalie Reynoso about what time means to those who are incarcerated. These are somewhat similar ideas, even though the scope of slavery was far more drastic, severe and damaging. However, for those who were slaves, time was a very different idea – being owned by someone else meant that you were either waiting for each day to end or waiting for your first opportunity to flee or to try to become free via other means. Significant life events – graduations, marriage, the birth of children – either could not be celebrated like others celebrated them or, worse, could not take place at all.

Worst of all, enslaved African-Americans couldn’t live “normal” life spans, with different phases of life like the ones we talked about in later classes. There were no periods of angst, happiness or restlessness; while these periods occurred internally, they were sadly marked by the ownership of others. I believe that it is very difficult to experience time if someone else owns it for you, and like the institution of slavery, slave masters unfortunately owned the time of their servants. Sadly, like everything else in their lives, their time, both in the micro and macro senses, was owned by someone else with more fortune and privilege. This is America’s ultimate sin, and the stealing of slaves’ time is perhaps America’s ultimate sin.


Time is a fickle creature, that much we’ve all learned from this class. It’s simply impossible to ever truly get the reins on it, on how it works. I still just can’t get comfortable with that. This class has maybe even made me feel less comfortable. What makes me uncomfortable about the ever shifting experience of time is that I feel powerless. I know ultimately we are all powerless, tomorrow I could get hit by a bus, or an asteroid could hit the earth, or someone could walk up to me and give me a million dollars. We can only ever have marginal control over our destinies. But destiny is about the future. What about the past? Is it any easier to control?

I wish. But it’s not. At least, that’s how it is for me. I have a horrible memory. I don’t know why, though I have my theories. But at the end of the day theories don’t mean anything, I just have to live with my horrible memory. I always bemoan my memory. I don’t do a great job of just living with it. I always think I would love a photographic memory. When I say always I really mean it, too. I remember sitting on the rug in the third grade reading Cam Jansen books, thinking, “wouldn’t that be nice.” But is that really a memory? I can’t tell. Is it revisionism? Am I amalgamating a bunch of memories into one representation? A memory that never truly happened, but did happen, just spread out over time. I could have put together a million little instances of reading on the rug and arranged them like a collage in my head in a way that would make sense and be easy to take in. I know that’s a more accurate representation of my memory. Talking about old times with friends is like arranging a puzzle. Sometimes I let them build the border then I fill the inside, and sometimes its the opposite. I like when its the former. I feel more stable like I control my brain and that it’s not the other way around.

You can implant memories in people’s heads. It’s really quite easy. I remember seeing a fact a long time ago (that probably was a pseudo fact but who knows), that said if you adamantly insist someone was a part of a memory that they actually weren’t, their brain will construct a memory and place them in it. That’s crazy! I bet if you think about it right now you can remember a time when you reminisced with a friend about a story, until it dawns on one of you that you weren’t actually there; you were reminiscing about something you didn’t experience. It’s happened to me plenty, but maybe I’m just crazy. Or maybe I have a boring enough life that every event bleeds together. Maybe my whole memory is just one big collage. Maybe one day someone will say to me, “wait a minute, I don’t think you were there,” and all my memories will fade away just like that. The curtain pulled back, they will reveal themselves to be nothing but stories. But is that all of us? Does everyone just have a head full of stories that they’ve collected and retold over time? I’m sure that’s the case. Memories can never be true unless they’re photographic. Even the most vivid memories will have omissions. Think about an intense memory that has a bookshelf somewhere in it. Can you name every book on the shelf? No? Those are all holes in the memory. So if every memory has holes like that who’s to say it doesn’t have many more holes filled in. Holes filled in with your minds inventions. Additions to the story you tell yourself. The story you call memory.

Final Blog Post

When I first registered for this course, I really did not know what to expect. Studying time sounded like it could be interesting, and analyzing its value certainly seemed like it could be insightful and helpful. I didn’t realize how little I actually knew about time until these past three months. Daylight savings made me aware of the fact that time is a social construct, but beyond this, I did not really think of time on a much deeper level. After taking this class, I will never look at a clock, a calendar, a countdown, a timeline, an obelisk, a tree, a rock, space, or any time keeping device for that matter, in the same way that I did before.

Aside from the many timekeeping devices that I now look at differently, my outlook on other major areas of my life have also changed as a result of taking this class. More specifically speaking, this class has altered the way in which I think about God. One belief I always grappled with committing to was whether God could tell the future. I believe God is omnipotent, and so it follows that God would be able to tell the future. I found issue with this belief because it felt like if it was true, then my prayers might not even matter, as if what was going to happen in my life and in the world was already determined. Logically speaking, if the future wasn’t already determined, then how could God know it? After reading Augustine and discussing his work in class, I came to a resolution in agreement with Augustine: that God does not exist within the confines of time but rather exists outside of time. Augustine’s logical explanation made a great deal of sense to me, and has helped clarify one of the major confusions I had about my belief in God.

Through our discussions and readings on timekeeping devices throughout history, I learned about the ways in which different cultures and civilizations kept time, about the purposes time served for these people, and whom in those societies timekeeping primarily served to benefit. I was particularly fascinated by our class’ analysis of the Roman calendar and our class’ dissection of the standard calendar we use today. These discussions subverted the assumption I previously held that calendars were simplistic and easy to understand. Exercises throughout the semester such as this one have indubitably strengthened my analytical skills. I remember on the first day of class when Professor Gribetz first asked, “what time is it?” I did not think much further beyond the answer “11:31 AM.” Now, at this point in the semester, I feel confident enough to discuss the complexities of time and create analogies to help contextualize the way one thinks about time (e.g., by relating time to trees).

One of my favorite aspects of this class was reading about the viewpoints and perspectives of some prolific writers and thinkers, and then taking those viewpoints and perspectives and discussing them with the class to see what we all agreed and disagreed on and found most intriguing. I felt that these dialogues were particularly insightful and often broadened my horizons. For example, I can remember having my perspective on the distinction between work and rest changed through one class discussion: I previously believed that the two were basically mutually exclusive, that anything laborious was work even if it was relaxing in some way. Devin’s explanation of how he finds writing to be hard work, yet considers it to be leisurely and rejuvenating was what ultimately changed my perspective.

I think it’s apparent after reading my very first blog post that I, like many others, am anxious about making sure that I spend my time properly. This has become even more relevant as I have only 16 days left until graduation at the time this post is due. Throughout this semester I’ve gotten to explore topics relevant to me and my family and reflect on personal experiences regarding time (e.g., waiting for decision letters from law schools). One of the reasons this class has been so interesting is because we get to experience exactly what we study while we study it. Nonetheless, the fact that some of the questions we posed in class are still at large speaks to how intricate the study of time can get; in particular the question regarding how if all the change happening in the universe just stopped, does that mean time has stopped? Has this phenomenon happened to me while writing this post and I’m just not aware of it? I have yet to make up my mind about the answers to these questions and other questions similar to them. I look forward to continuing my journey on the exploration of time, figuring out how best to utilize it all while being cognizant of all that I’ve learned during these past three months.

I Guess It’s About Time

I won’t beat around the bush: the title to this blog post is an excellent pun. It covers my graduation, the topic and culmination of this course, and the slight misdirection it seems this course has taken. At the beginning of the semester we were asked, “what time is it?”, “what is time?”, “what is your relationship to time?”, and then more extensively, “why does any of this matter?”. I remember the vast feeling of uncertainty I felt when walking into the room on the first day of class. I remember realizing how vague these questions were meant to be, and I was certainly uncertain with how I should be moving forward to answer them. When the class was asked “what time is it?”, we gave multiple rows of columns as a response. We had a lot to say. Usually, when someone asks “what time is it?”, they demand an ultra-specific response. If they don’t get the exact one they want, I can guarantee they will ask again, and maybe even get mad. But, it is, of course, all situational. In fact, we can take comfort in knowing that there are so many ways to clarify the time.

At the end of the semester, I can confidently say that I have more clarity on the subject. But, time hasn’t become any less vast, if anything it is more vast. Only now I have become more comfortable with the vastness. I am more comfortable with the endless answers to “what time is it?” and I am more comfortable knowing that this is how it is meant to be. One of the most impactful readings this semester, and one I have beaconed back to many times, is Einstein’s Dreams. Having this reading early on was extremely beneficial to my framing of the class. While much of the book featured fantastical representations of time, it really did pound home the idea that time really is relative. Even during class while we were accumulating lists on the board, every once in a while someone would bring up a topic or a facet of time that was not even close to my radar. Time has proved itself to be so immensely personal, and the deeper we dived into the course the more apparent that became.

While it could be frustrating to contemplate what time really means, it was comforting to read how philosophers like Seneca also struggled with the questions of “how to spend time”. Knowing that even the greatest thinkers in history would sit around struggling to contemplate how to manage their time is both scary as well as comforting. This made me realize that time really isn’t supposed to be understood, but it is instead meant to be studied so that we may be aware of it in whatever capacity it is needed. I found it particularly interesting whenever the terms “spend time” or “save time” came up. We all are constantly “spending” our time. Whether we are spending it wisely, well, or not, we are spending it nonetheless. With this constant outflow of time, there is still, somehow, room to “save time”. Usually it is brought up that we can “save time” by taking faster transportation, or we could “save time” by online shopping, or even by using a microwave to cook food. The connotation is that we are saving the time from doing something bad with it to doing something good. There are uses of our time that we value less, and therefore would rather allocate to other tasks. These seems like a very simple concept, but what is the use in “saving time” microwaving when the person loves to cook? What would be the use in “saving time” by flying somewhere when the person loves to drive? 

What we have learned here in class is that time is a currency that stems from nature, embedded in our own biology, and then put to work by our minds. We looked at how time is layered in the earth itself and in our universe, how the development of our world is dependent on time, and how we continue to measure time looking at the smallest moving parts of our natural world. Time is rooted in our world, as well as rooted in all of us. It only makes sense that it is up to us how we spend it. Like all things, there will be trends associated with how we spend our time, as well as the personal decision, and inherent repercussions, on how we are spending our time. So then, when asked “what time is it?”, “what is time?”, “what is your relationship to time?”, and “why does any of this matter?”, we should view these questions as the journeys that they are, instead of digging through our skulls for the perfect answer. 

All I can be assured of is that this class has been time well spent. I will miss it and the lessons we exercised each class. I do, however, take solace in the fact that at any time, I can go back to explore our syllabus, and spend some time looking over some past readings to always keep my new found knowledge of time refreshed and ready to go. But, if I truly took the readings to heart, maybe I would understand that it is best to move on. Thank you again, class, for providing me with the time I needed to help me with my time management, my time tolerance, and my time awareness. I just hope I am forgiven the next time someone asks me “what time is it?”.

Queering Time and Final Thoughts

In the throes of graduation and during this awkward, liminal period—in personal growth, in academic and vocational career, in my life in general—I was struck by, What’s That Smell, the article from Halberstam. His exploration of prolonged adolescence as a subversion of heteronormative culture and its time is so beautifully illustrated through music and queer subcultures. The pressure Halberstam puts on the binary of youth and adulthood not only calls into question the conventional narrative of human life and reproduction but also questions gender binaries and power structures. Halberstam creates space for a more expansive understanding of temporality; space to consider unlimitedness within conceptions of identity, time, and their interconnectedness. 

During my sophomore year of college, I took a class called Women in Early Modern Drama. It focused heavily on Shakespeare and his contemporaries and viewing them with a feminist lens. I wrote my final paper around the idea of eternal girlhood, which I described as kind of extended youth for femmes. I thought of it as a rejection of the social prescriptions for women and womanhood and an indefinite period of living and lively girlhood— a queer state of existence with innocence, with riotousness, with restlessness and whimsy and anger and fiery love and community. 

Halberstam’s article brought me back to this idea and this period and made past current, already doing what it discusses—queering time. I thought it acted as a really useful nightcap to the semester; it brought together so much of the theory we discussed and exemplified ways time shapes identity. One of the primary things I took from this semester, in fact, is that expanding our comprehension of time is a way of expanding our conception of identity. In this class, I was forced to reckon with all of the ways in which individual concept of time is acutely local. From our exploration of how incarcerated people experience time differently, of how timely expectations vary across the globe and between cultures, how interaction with time changes for those with PTSD, how the 24-hour day or 12-month year arent’ innate organizations of time which have always existed, and so on. I realized truly how much of human temporality is diced up and divided by human constructions. 

I believe that the project of understanding time is becoming knowledgable about time—in its glittering kaleidoscope of complexities and loops—so that we may queer time, queer history, and disrupt oppressive, congested normativity. This confluence of deconstruction and expansiveness erodes white, Western, patriarchal, heteronormativity. It is a project that resists reductive understandings of temporality and identity and, to quote Halberstam, “disrupt[s] simple models of continuity and linear understandings of cultural influence.” 

What I fall forward with, from the knowledgable nest of our class, is a broadened interpretation of human temporality and identity. This intellectual asset harkens back to my sophomore literature class, and to almost every class of my college career—which so imminently comes to a close—that at the core of many fields is an interrelating thread of the drive to make sense of human existence. That is, indeed, what time is: trying to organize and make sense of our being. 

Devin Dyer

Final Reflections

Starting this assignment, I’ve realized just how much we’ve discussed in this class, how many different topics we’ve covered. It’s honestly quite hard for me to narrow down what I’ve learned and to summarize it. It’s not because I haven’t learned anything, it’s because I learned it in such a different way. When it comes to learning about time in this class, it feels like we took the scenic route. At the beginning of the semester, I was focused on the route, but by now I’m focused on the scenery. Because of the unifying theme of time we’ve studied history, theology, literature, sociology, and more.

One of the more interesting revelations I’ll take away from this class is the realization of the uniquity of our time. By our time I mean really the last hundred to two hundred years. Time today is a science, more so than any other time in history. Someone researched the atomic clock for our second essay, something I had heard about but never really thought about. After our presentations, that changed. In a way, the accuracy of the atomic clock and its sheer existence baffle me. It has made time seem iron-clad—constant—definable. It has removed some of the mystery, some of the magic, from time. It runs in opposition to one of my biggest takeaways from this course; that time is in many ways undefinable. No—undefinable isn’t the right way to describe it. A better way would be to say there is a myriad of definitions, and they are in a constant state of flux. What is true about time one day is false the next. Some days feel like years and some seconds. Our bodies clocks can be thrown way off by even simple changes in our surroundings. And time is such a personal experience. It means something different, moves differently, for every person. Yet modern science has negated that. It’s told us it’s the same for each person, but I just can’t believe that anymore. Not after this class. If you asked me at the beginning of the semester; “what is time”; I’d like to think I would have a firm answer. It might be tricky to word but I’d get there eventually. If you asked me today the best I could do is shrug my shoulders. That’s not because I haven’t learned, but because I have. I’ve learned that time is such a huge concept, a huge force, that it is just as hard to properly explain as would be the total order (or disorder, depending on how you look at it) of the universe or the entirety of human history. Time simply cannot be wrapped up nicely in a bow.

Time’s conceptual illusiveness both frightens and excites me. It excites me because it is a concept that constantly begets more questions. There are no firm answers and thus there is no end to questioning. I love being a student, so a truly inexhaustible subject excites my desire to question and to learn. But, there is also something very frightening about facing a concept that you can hardly understand. It takes a certain kind of humility to accept that the forces around you, that shape you and everything about you, can never truly be understood. There will always be questions left unanswered, and most of us like things to be understandable and explainable.

If someone were to ask me to impart to them a lesson from this class I would say this; the things you see as the smallest parts of your day, or even your personality, are really the biggest things. The way you allot time to yourself, the way you reflect on time spent, your proclivity for punctuality, all of these aspects of daily life carry with them fascinating revelations waiting to be experienced. I would tell this hypothetical person to simply question. To try and locate the most mundane aspects of your life and dissect them. That process will always lead to great knowledge not just of yourself but of the world around you.

On the Eve of Our Little Apocalypse

During this class, I have learned that time, while inescapable, is vastly changeable. I have always thought of truly effective education as increasing the student’s freedom, and this class has done exactly that for me.

When I arrived in Duane this January, I knew enough about time to feel trapped by it. Like many other students, being a young person in New York City often made me feel as though there were not enough hours in a day. At other times, those hours felt stretched far beyond their limit, to a point where I was sure to snap if I tried to practically utilize every single one. While college life affords the freedom of an unorthodox schedule, I felt married to mine. Appointments and deadlines felt immoveable. While this was not a bad thing, and I was reasonably happy operating under these circumstances, I now realize that the chronological claustrophobia I sometimes felt was an indication of feeling trapped in my time. The learning given to me in this class has helped me to step outside of ‘my’ time.

Prior to this class, I had played with my language surrounding the time I had to increase a feeling of autonomy. Instead of saying, “I don’t have time for that,” I substituted, “That’s not a priority right now.” I made choices and sacrifices of how to utilize my time in a way that felt in line with my identity. But still, rather than feeling like time was a limitless expanse that I had the freedom to organize in any fashion, I felt like I had been dealt a hand of 24 hours and told to use them as effectively as possible until they ran out, only to play the whole game over again. This is not a terrible way to organize time, but it does place a focus on utility above all.

This course has given me the tools to organize my time around things other than productivity – things that at times matter more than productivity. Some days, I choose to organize time around my body, listening to its inner clock rather than the watch it wears on its wrist. I eat when I feel like it, sleep when I need to and organize what I can around those needs. Other times, I organize my time around memory, placing what I feel will be a memorable use of my time over what may be considered the most productive or valuable. This class has empowered me to do that, and I am better for it.

It has also led me to place higher value on time we keep together. The ways in which communities organize time are one of the most powerful community unifiers, and I now factor that in when discerning which communities I would like to be part of, and how to make my own communities more inclusive. This class has shown me that time is an inescapable fabric, but despite this, we are free to tailor it into any fashion we wish, and it is important to keep in mind the ways in which we can tailor it for further equality for others and betterment of ourselves, or stifle the freedom of others and ensnare ourselves in an unhappy existence.

When we spoke of how to use our time, we referenced Seneca’s “On the Shortness of Life,” in which the philosopher contends that any amount of time is enough if it is used well. We talked about the tragedy and injustice of a life cut short in reference to this text. Despite this, I would like to think Seneca is right – that while we may want more time, and in some tragic cases deserve more time, we can view every life lived well as enough time to do good work that touches many. This has changed the way I view my own death, and also the tragic deaths that I have come into contact with. While Seneca may not have agreed with the way the time was utilized, I look at those who have passed and left behind beautiful memories as having enough time to touch many despite deserving more time. This class and Seneca’s thought has allowed me to focus more on the value in life rather than just the void of where it ends, and in some cases is cut short. It has helped me focus less on the places where people were cheated of more time, and instead all the time they took and compounded into the world.

This class has been an exercise in changing my perspective on whatever moment I happen to be in in order to make that moment more mindful, effective and inclusive as opposed to merely practical. So in terms of what time it is right now – it is the eve of the end of the world, of this world in our Duane room. We have been patiently preparing for this apocalypse, and we will have a final discussion and celebration tomorrow evening before this community ceases to look the way it does now. Things will be different after. Some, including myself, may wish we had more time, but the time we held together contained infinite value and therefore was enough.

Final Blog Post

I remember being so stumped at the beginning of the semester about what time actually meant, and I can say that after a semester’s worth of work that my conception of time has been expanded so much.  At the beginning of the course, time was something that I relied on as a sturdy, unquestionable standard in my life.  Thinking too hard about time’s passage, aging, social change over time and the experience of time was always very stressful to me, so I chose to view time as an objective reality without giving myself much space to question it.  Very early into the semester, when we read Einstein’s Dreams, I already felt my old ways of thinking about (or rather, trying to avoid really thinking about) time slipping away. Reading all of these different versions of how time could work made me realize that my conception of time is neither objective nor unchanging.  There is nothing naturally right about the way that we have decided to break time down into 365 days in a year, 24 hours in a day of 60 seconds in a minute. Lightman really challenged my limited conception of how time is structured. 

One thing that I was very curious to see pan out over the semester was how theology was going to tie into theme of time.  I had no idea that there were discourses about God’s time or that monasteries were one of the earliest time-keeping spaces.  Furthermore, even after hearing about God resting on the seventh day for all my years of Catholic school education, I had never done a close read of the actual passages in which this is said.  I thought it was really interesting how this idea of God resting on the seventh day tied into a discussion about what the difference between resting and abstaining from doing work means, between leisure and free time. 

My biggest takeaway from the class is how time functions differently for different groups of people, such as the incarcerated, black Americans, those with trauma/PTSD, and queer individuals.  At the beginning of the class, I recognized that time was a construction, but I had never really grappled with all the ways that the experience of time is different for so many groups of people.  I loved our session on serving time, and I feel like I learned so much from our guest speaker about what the experience of time is like while incarcerated.  The way that I think about choosing to spend my time is a perspective that those incarcerated aren’t granted because of their highly regimented schedules.   The Du Bois excerpt from The Souls of Black Folkthat we read was also one of my favorites because it challenged the evolutionary, commonly held belief that all things naturally progress for the better with time.  For those who suffer from severe trauma, the entire conception of past, present and future that I relied on as being very objective is not relevant at all.  And finally, for queer individuals, the socially expected timeline of marriage, reproduction and death doesn’t fit.  These lessons specifically were the most thought-provoking for me.  I think that if I were to pass on some information from this class to another person, it would definitely be about the ways that time functions differently for these disenfranchised groups.  When you read the personal experiences of what it is like to make sense of time as an individual with PTSD or a person who is in jail, it’s clear that time is much less objective than I thought at the beginning of the semester.