Small windows of time

12:00 noon.

I’ve been making excuses the past few months on why I haven’t been able to put some words down on paper, my reasons mainly being busy with internship, academics, org work, and part-time work. University is stressful, no doubt, but I think I cannot use this excuse forever. Nicole Gulotta mentioned that writing in the margins is about taking advantage of small windows of time everyday and getting some words down, even if they’re not very good ones. So I guess this is what I’m trying to do. I have fifteen minutes to write my thoughts down. Fifteen minutes from now, I would be showering and getting ready for internship because I missed my morning classes: I overslept.

Lately I’ve been contemplating about life and the future. Not lately, actually, because it’s what I always do. And I keep reminding myself, if I keep being a worrier, I will end up spoiling the present. Which is Now. Which is the most important moment in my life, thus far.

Internship is stressing me out; not the work itself because I’ve met a lot of great people and I always enjoying learning something new. But every day when I get home from school and internship, I find myself collapsing on the bed and falling asleep, having no more energy to do school work or study or write. The daily commute is killing me. And I’ve been waking up early to try get some writing down, but it hasn’t really been working for me, because I am not a morning person. I try to sleep late to get some writing done too, but I end up oversleeping and I really cannot afford to miss my morning major classes anymore, especially since I am also doing my thesis this term.

Regardless, I also tell myself to unwind and take a breather. A few weeks ago I had dinner with my former editor. This editor was my editor when I was a newbie in the school paper. Funny how 2 years later, I am the editor now yet I still find myself running back to him for advice, for conversation, for comfort. And it’s great, because I look up to him with so much respect and admiration, and I don’t think he realizes that, even though he tells me I’m doing so much more than he’s ever done as an editor and writer. I think ( and I don’t think he realizes this or will ever admit it to himself) just how much he has impacted my life.

I am also five months in as a strict vegan and I’ve never been happier. Most people are usually apathetic towards veganism, but I know for myself that I am not turning back from this. I’ve had an eating disorder since 2nd year high school (6 years ago) and it is only with veganism that I find myself not feeling guilty whenever I eat. I have become more social when it comes to eating, even though I find being vegan is harder when it comes to eating out. but I no longer hate myself when I eat, I no longer cry and hurt myself when I find myself eating in front of people. I don’t feel anxious anymore and I actually feel at peace with myself, so I’d like to believe that this is my niche. My eating patterns are still fucked up and I think it would take longer for me to actually fix this, but at least I am actually seeing progress after being stuck in the same hell for six years. I don’t feel angry at myself, and I am trying to look out for myself by eating better.

Of course I don’t go around preaching to people, but I try my best to share what I know when they ask. I still eat around my meat-eating friends, still sit down for Sunday lunch with my family and help my mom wash the fish, even though its lifeless eye stares back at me. I understand that it’s counterproductive to go around preaching, though I hope that someday we, as people, realize how destructive our actions are to our world.

Okay, I have 6 minutes left.

When I got down today for breakfast, I saw my dad smoking by the balcony. And I hate it so much, because my parents have always been smokers. They don’t smoke in front of me to, but do they not realize that the effect on me is psychological? I hate seeing the people I love destroying themselves. My younger brother is also a smoker, and it bothers me so much that they do it. I try not to pass judgment to them and anybody else who smokes, but the smell is vile and the long-term effect to the health is horrible. And I wish people cared more about themselves and their health, but what do I know. We manage pain differently. We all destroy ourselves.

2 minutes in.

I still feel like an impostor. I have been editor now for more than a month, yet I still feel insecure and a fraud. I think my doubts are here to stay, no matter how many times I try o banish them, I think they are never going away. But that’s okay, because Rainer Rilke said we should train our doubts so that’s what I’m trying to do. Whenever I feel down or feel as if I’m not trying enough, I ask myself and I ask The Great Doubt Spewer: Why is it ugly? Why is it bad? Because, I realize, I have to be objective with myself, even with my self-evaluation. And I have to be fair and just, because that is the only way I can get by this life, anyway.

12:15. I have to shower.

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