I got back from vacation last night and so, today, between my days off and being back to reality, I have been living in a daydream. I’ve been sitting on the couch for the past hour, neglecting all of my “back to routine” responsibilities (laundry, gym, cleaning, groceries, etc), in favour of thinking about what could’ve, should’ve, and might be. I can’t help but feel like I am not where I am supposed to be.
It isn’t really that even, it feels more like I am not who I’m supposed to be. I’m going through a bad phase with social media where I look at other people’s accounts and compare my own and I feel like I look so incredibly superficial and boring. There’s no real content to my life. I worry that this speaks to a deeper level of dissatisfaction from the superficial happiness I have been experiencing.
I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it though. Go do what ought to be done, to start (laundry, gym, cleaning, groceries, etc), and then maybe work on re-prioritizing. But also remember that social media is not an actual representation of the ways in which people are living and experiencing their lives.
My house smells of coffee in the mornings now. It never did growing up. In one of the small sacrifices I can see now, my dad didn’t drink it because my mom didn’t like the smell. He would buy a coffee or get some at the office instead, never complaining. She eventually bought him a k-cup when the conversation came up of how much money he was spending on coffees, though she insisted on taking it when they separated a few years ago. It sits in a cupboard in the apartment he pays for, just like the elliptical she demanded to keep, which is buried beneath boxes and knickknacks in her study. It wasn’t the hill he wanted to die on though, so he obliged, not the last of his many sacrifices.
It took me a long time to warm up to coffee and I am still not a habitual drinker, though there is a pot made every morning and it’s aroma fills the whole house. It reminds me of my grandparents house, my mom’s parents. Their house always smelled like coffee in the morning. I don’t understand where the disconnect is between them and her, but there is one.
It isn’t just about the coffee.
I think about the way that I am, or is the way that I choose to be, and wonder if I will ever be okay in my own skin. I feel too much, love to deeply, but approach the world with a bitter indifference. Don’t let them see you cry. Stiff upper lip. Continue reading WHO AM I?!
From the moment we are born our life’s clock starts ticking. From the very second we start something, it is one second closer to ending. I have been overly aware of this reality lately, feeling constantly and obsessively like time is running out. It is not an awareness that I am incredibly fond of. Living with a perpetual timer in my head has the effect that all I do is tainted by the fact that everything ends.
This isn’t meant to be a comment on our human condition or some sort of metaphysical discussion of our immortality but rather a reflection on how difficult it is to live in the moment. It’s all just grains of sand slipping away before our very eyes, and there is absolutely nothing we can do to stop it. I’m not sure how to make that sound less bleak than it is.
We can pretend that we will seize each moment and live each day to the fullest, but laying awake at night there is the crushing sensation that there is so much more left to do and not enough time. There is the overwhelming knowledge that we have not used our time well and that we are not where/who/what we thought we would be by now.
It is said that time is a mere human conception and that it is the reason for mankind’s worry. So how do we do away with the calendar and clock and live a life that is more intrinsically connected to desire and fulfillment? How do we let go of counting minutes and focus on what is truly important- the things that fill our time and make the hours disappear?