Time will tell
If this stream of consciousness will ever make sense.
The scene: I am sitting by the old wooden desk in my room, pillow on my lap to support my elbows. A little maneuver that will prevent me from slouching over and getting too close to my laptop screen. Not two hours ago, I’d just slammed my work laptop shut at this very location, a good way to inspire burnout; not unless writing gives you comfort, I’m thankful for that (although this is not to say that there aren’t any times were I found writing to be more tedious than work). I’ve got my favorite headphones on – the Sony XM5s, a godsent investment I’ve made in recent memory – listening to Hikaru Utada’s time will tell as I type away for this piece. What a gorgeously produced song that is – a seamless concoction of R&B, hip-hop, funk, and jazz that screams 90’s, partnered with Utada’s silky smooth vocals. Perfect for quiet introspection. In this very moment, on a random Tuesday out of work, the confines of these four walls feel like heaven that no vacation home in the South of France could match.
One of the best things I’ve done for myself this year has been to teach myself to be more observant of the present. Whenever I find myself stationary in a place, I’ve grown a habit of slumping back and looking around the environment that is. I’d take a deep breath, close my eyes, and open them again – as if triggering a mechanism in my brain that allows me to fully focus on where I’m at. Exhale. The viewpoint expands one by one, item by item, sense by sense. I try to make sense of the journey of not only the people I see, but the very inanimate objects that make up the surroundings. Where could that group of friends possibly be headed? How did those scratches on that Corolla came to be? What could that expat be possibly talking about on his phone? How much has that tree grown since I last went here? I’d take a photo, maybe, and have it stew on my phone for me to look back to on a rainier day.
Make no mistake though, this new age of observance wasn’t conceived out of an extraordinary, life-changing juncture. It came right from this very room that I’m writing in. As a work-from-home Software Engineer, I typically spend most of my weekdays holed up in my room, carving away at whatever tasks I had for the workday. The ample time that I have outside of work I spend walking, working out, reading, writing, consuming media, and making weekend plans. As someone who’s been a natural homebody for most of my life, this is the life. To build up a routine I can follow – and has produced results – as a freak of order and organization and peacefulness, having a lot of things be to my terms, which is enabled by this remote setup, has satisfied my palate for some time now out of college.
But the routine eats up at you. There’s been many a time where I look out the window and wished I could be doing more instead of just being holed up in a cocoon of comfort. The eternal human conundrum of never being content. To some degree, though, it’s healthy for character development. I used to have big dreams of moving to New York and living independently there, which has since taken a backseat because delusion could only take me as far as my resources can. But having had a dream (or maybe I do still?) of moving all the way across the Pacific and then some enabled me to have enough grit to get to this significant life checkpoint where I’m at right now.
Thse distant dreams that punch above my own weight fuel me to hone in on all this hard work, but dammit, sometimes you can’t help but stop and ask yourself: How soon? Where are we headed? Are we driving the right vehicle in the first place? Next thing I know, I’ve strayed away from the rooted observationalist I’ve become to somebody riddled with anxiousness. I have to give myself a constant reminder that I’ll never know the answer to those questions until I act on them.
And until then, I suppose time will tell. As does for all things, we never truly know what happens until we live them. And until then, it’s about making sure I’ll appreciate the heck out of it and leaving nothing for retrospect to look better on.
When I look at where I’m at right now: having a pretty good night. Making a good decision to get off my ass and write this piece (albeit in a stream of consciousness) and inhale the sonic please of Utada’s time will tell after a day’s worth of good, fulfilling work. I tell myself, I know I’m in the right path, because I’m perfectly happy where I’m at for now. And that’s something I realize I couldn’t say this time last year. Time told.