I did not have a 28th of September. At some point either the day before or the day after, the ship crossed the dateline, and we arbitrarily skipped this day (just as we saw signs telling us to put our clocks back an hour on certain night, on the 27th we saw a sign instructing us to set our calendars a day forward that night). It seems strange, but the logic works – if I and the friend who dropped me off at Union station in DC counted the exact number of hours we have since been apart, we would find that we have lived the same number of hours. However, where that same friend to call me in China and ask me what day it is, he would find that we are separated by a one whole calendrer day, and that I am living (jokingly) in the future.
Another interesting point is this; if you were to ask me what I did on the 28th of September 2015 I would have to reply that I did nothing. But this wouldn’t be the same nothing as a lazy college student or a millennial with a hangover (where ‘doing nothing’ means waking up very late, eating food in bed and then watching various TV shows on a laptop all day) – I literally did nothing on the 28th of September, 2015. I did not read, I did not watch a movie, I did not talk to a single soul, and it is an interesting point to ask if I even existed on the 28th of September[1]. I did nothing, and I challenge anyone reading this to do less on any given day.
But I also feel cheated somehow. Because I didn’t get my September 28th. I can only hope that nothing fundamentally important was meant to happen on that day (of better yet, that something terrible was meant to happen to me on that day) Let us imagine a version of myself who literally never moved anywhere. Born in Arzignano, he and his parents loved it there so much that they never moved, ever. Let us also suppose that we are later reunited and upon this reunion, executed at the exact same moment (because thought experiment). Now, if someone were to review our diligently kept journals, they would notice that I am missing an entry for the 28th of September, 2015. But the two this is odd, because I was born and killed the same day as this other version of me.
Well, this would be solved depending on how what direction I took to get to the reunion with my doppelgänger in Arzignano. Should I return by going eastward, again across the pacific and then over the US, across the Atlantic and onto Europe, then I would gain a day when crossing the dateline, I would make up the loss of my September 28th, 2015th with an abundance of, let’s call if December 5th, 2016. I would have lived that day twice, which would have made up for the lost September 28th. But what if, for the rest of my days, I only ever travelled westward. Then where would my September 28th have gone? Well, if you have been paying attention to these journal updates, you would have noticed the ship instructing us to set our clocks back an hour periodically. Although I have not checked, I would assume that once I have gotten back to Arzignano I would have had to set my clock back one hour 24 times. So in a respect, I have chopped up my September 28th and fed it to other days[2]. One wonders which of the two methods of getting back to Arzignano is worth it; whether it is better to have have 24 days that are an hour longer, or two have one whole extra day somewhere in my life. It is a silly question of course; it depends on what you do with the time.
Another interesting point is this; if you were to ask me what I did on the 28th of September 2015 I would have to reply that I did nothing. But this wouldn’t be the same nothing as a lazy college student or a millennial with a hangover (where ‘doing nothing’ means waking up very late, eating food in bed and then watching various TV shows on a laptop all day) – I literally did nothing on the 28th of September, 2015. I did not read, I did not watch a movie, I did not talk to a single soul, and it is an interesting point to ask if I even existed on the 28th of September[1]. I did nothing, and I challenge anyone reading this to do less on any given day.
But I also feel cheated somehow. Because I didn’t get my September 28th. I can only hope that nothing fundamentally important was meant to happen on that day (of better yet, that something terrible was meant to happen to me on that day) Let us imagine a version of myself who literally never moved anywhere. Born in Arzignano, he and his parents loved it there so much that they never moved, ever. Let us also suppose that we are later reunited and upon this reunion, executed at the exact same moment (because thought experiment). Now, if someone were to review our diligently kept journals, they would notice that I am missing an entry for the 28th of September, 2015. But the two this is odd, because I was born and killed the same day as this other version of me.
Well, this would be solved depending on how what direction I took to get to the reunion with my doppelgänger in Arzignano. Should I return by going eastward, again across the pacific and then over the US, across the Atlantic and onto Europe, then I would gain a day when crossing the dateline, I would make up the loss of my September 28th, 2015th with an abundance of, let’s call if December 5th, 2016. I would have lived that day twice, which would have made up for the lost September 28th. But what if, for the rest of my days, I only ever travelled westward. Then where would my September 28th have gone? Well, if you have been paying attention to these journal updates, you would have noticed the ship instructing us to set our clocks back an hour periodically. Although I have not checked, I would assume that once I have gotten back to Arzignano I would have had to set my clock back one hour 24 times. So in a respect, I have chopped up my September 28th and fed it to other days[2]. One wonders which of the two methods of getting back to Arzignano is worth it; whether it is better to have have 24 days that are an hour longer, or two have one whole extra day somewhere in my life. It is a silly question of course; it depends on what you do with the time.
[1] Point- You could have call me up on that day and asked me if I was around (and therefore existing) and I would have to answer with yes. Counterpoint – from my point of view, you would be calling me on the 29th of September.
[2] I would love to see the math on this regarding the friend who dropped me off in DC and then called me when I am in China.
Locus Horribilis 