Daily Archives: September 1, 2008

It appears my life long obsession with clocks has recently taken on a new direction.
As I mentioned in a previous post, my obsession borders on the insane. I’m like Mel Gibson’s character in Conspiracy Theory. In the movie, he has an uncontrollable urge to buy a copy of The Catcher in the Rye whenever he sees it and as a result had amassed an extensive collection of them. In fact, I think I remember him saying that he had never actually read it. I could be wrong though, it’s been eleven years since I saw its release in 1997.
My Catcher in the Rye is clocks.
Clocks call out to me. I don’t go around buying one of every clock I see, mind you. I can (thankfully) walk through a clock section at a store and not even skip a beat. I do sneak peeks though, to partake in their construction and beauty. Every once in a while though, one will speak to me and I have to buy it; no ifs, ands, or buts about it. I can’t leave the store without it in my hands. I might even be looking at several of the same clocks sitting on a shelf. While that particular style might call out to me, I might pick through them until I find “the one”.
Certain clocks give off certain vibes. Thusly, I can’t just pick one and go with it. Each and every clock in my house is special to me, all fifty-plus of them.
Most are unassuming, quietly running in their little corner of a bookshelf or atop the fireplace mantle or on the end table. My office is a whole other story. Many of the louder ones are in here. They soothe me. I don’t know what it is about that gentle tick-tock sound that puts my soul at ease. There’s no rhyme or reason behind it. It just does. I even have one in my office at work so I can keep that feeling of calm with me throughout the day.
Perhaps I should call my mother. Maybe she believed the old wive’s tale of putting a clock in a baby’s crib to mimic the mother’s heartbeat and keep them satiated. Maybe it does go back that far, I don’t know. I would be interested to find out regardless. I do know my dad’s grandmother had this obsession as well. I was fortunate enough to have known her long enough to see her buried just four short years ago at the age of ninety-nine. I’m guessing it was passed through the blood lines from her and I just happened to inherit it.
It really is an addiction.
Recently I’ve become interested in spending my time creating them. I want to make them. This uncontrollable need has filled me to create. I want to take every day, unassuming objects and turn them into things of beauty, making them the backdrops of simple little clocks. I want to display them and sell them.
That’s where my life is leading me now. I’ve made the decision to start making them and trying to sell them. If I sell them, then great. It’s always nice to be able to make a little money doing something you love doing. If I don’t sell many, then that’s great too. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how you want to look at it, all of the unsold ones will end up in my personal collection.
I would be perfectly content and my life would be on what I feel is the path that I am supposed to be on if I could open a small store and just sit there and sell clocks and watches all day.
I’ve already warned my wife. When we build our next house, I’m dedicating a room solely to my collection. I’ll have to soundproof it. If you’ve ever seen the movie Hook, you know what I’m talking about. Try to imagine every alarm clock you have set to go off at exactly the same time.
From the fifty-plus clocks that inhabit my domicile to the pocket watch I have tattooed on my right shoulder commemorating my grandmother’s time of death two years ago, clocks are forever an integral facet of my life. Without them, I believe my will to live would cease to exist.