Tag: essays

Is it alright if I run away for a while?

Today’s news are devastating. When it comes from our closest ones, it’s stressful and saddened. When it comes from the media, it’s confusing and biased. Social media, where it’s usually a place where people showing off their happiness, is showing more obituaries these days and isn’t “strong” enough to show the fake happiness. It used to be laughs, inspiration, pride or maybe envy at the least, but never too much of sadness like these days. So, what should we do?

I don’t know.

People are forced to focus on those devastating news these days. So when it comes to socializing, everything feels different. I just had a reunion with my high school classmates last weekend. Online, of course. The main topic was of course, the pandemic. How half of us were either currently affected or just survived from the virus. No fun topics, not much on some nostalgias, all was about how we tried to listened to those who’s affected. Not that it’s bad. I feel sorry and pray for their recovery. But, is it wrong if, just for awhile, we swift our mind to something less terrifying?

I’m not sure.

But I think that’s what I’m doing right now.

I wrote before that I’m currently somewhat obsessed with musical, especially when it comes to live musical performance, such as Broadway, West End, or anything. Not only I watch it over and over again, I listen to its albums, memorize my fav lines by heart, even spend a lot of times for belting out my fav songs. It’s totally okay, indeed. But there’s actually a reason why I keep staying in that obsession for more than 1 year : none of my friends or family shares the same obsession. It feels like I’m totally alone in this world where I can pour all my emotions without anyone hears about it. It feels like all the laugh, joy and happiness are only for me, not anybody else in my circle. Yes, it feels good to have all the joy for me and myself only. Sounds selfish? Yeah, I know it by heart. But, I really need all the happiness to be absorbed by my soul. I just want to enjoy something by myself. So, I run away to some fictional beauty that only I can enjoy it.

I also found myself into writing. Just small notes about a small fictional words. Not even part of the story in the book I’m currently writing. Just short notes, stories or thoughts of what-if. Mostly I found myself writing it on the break between meetings or before starting the day. Not that I’m gonna explore all those thoughts to be a story. It just feels so good to take a break from a reality. MY reality. I let my mind wanders. To a new world. Or to some other existing fictionized words that I change or add a bit parallel universe from it. As much as I can do just to spend times not staying in current reality. Yes, I run away from my real life. For a while, it feels so good.

Well, I don’t know if it’s actually helping my anxiety or it’s just a false hope. Or, purely a selfish act. Sometimes I feel bad about it because I realized I know little about my surrounding. It looks like I become ignorant to any kind of news. Or, even worse, when I know there were some of my friends affected by Covid-19, I didn’t do much thing. I only asked how they were doing, said a necessary pray for them to get well soon, but doing nothing to help them get through it. Not even checking them on in daily basis. There’s a thought in my mind that saying “I’m exhausted and stressful enough. I can’t even help myself. How can I help others?” It feels wrong, but I just let out a shrug and continue to do what I do in those fake happiness.

But, is it really fake if I really feel it?

Why it feels so wrong these days to let myself enjoying something I can only enjoy?

Is it wrong to run away from all of this? It’s just for a while, though, I promise.

10 Points for Reading Book! How Many Scores for Writing One?

I never thought keeping score would be this depressing. I even never thought that I would be keeping score for everything I’ve done during my break. Welcome to so-called “New Normal” my version.

I don’t know when it all started. I was a super flexible person. Go with the flow. Even when it comes to traveling, I only make lists for the places I’d like to visit. I’m a very punctual person, but I never arrange my day to day in a neat scheduler (except for meetings in work of course). Until recently. During this never ending pandemic/quarantine/stay at home time.

Somehow, there’s a slight anxiety or a terrible feeling when it comes to time for myself. Say that it’s weekend, or even in the evening during weekdays. I’m so scared that I would be doing such an “unproductive” things. I don’t even know what those things are, because, even worse, everything feels so wrong.

I started to make a mental note. A mental list on what I should do during the free time. The list always revolves around my hobbies or things that I love to do. Because I thought it will simply give me a content feeling. Like I’m progressing in something or achieving something. Like I can show to the world, “Hey, do whatever your want to do! But you can’t fuck with me!” The list also revolves around what thing I can learn during this stranded time. Or “produce” something. Like a page of coloring book, or a simple small painting, or a song to be mastered. So, every weekend, starting Friday night, I make a list. How many pages I have to read for a book I currently read (or maybe even finish it during the weekend), how many blog posts, how many TV series/movies that I could watch so I can take it out from my watchlist, how I should spend time for rearranging furniture/bookshelves, how many hours I should spend to play games in PlayStation, what kind of recipes I should try to learn, which songs I should learn, and so on, and so on.

Soon, it became like a chores. Something that if I didn’t do, I would blame myself. I always feel a regret every time I took a nap during weekend, because 1 hour nap could equal to 60 pages book read or 1 song to master with my Ukulele. I hate myself just for laying in bed for hours because my mind is just to tired with everything. What makes it worse, I curse myself just because I watch too many shows or play games longer, instead of reading books or writing. It’s getting difficult to enjoy what I used to enjoy because there’s a race in my head. It’s like I’m keeping score for all those activities I should just enjoy. How many scores you should give to read a book? is it higher than watching your fav show? or is it lower than writing this blog post?

Not to mention how time flies unusually fast these days. I can’t just believe we’ve been in 2nd half of 2021 and 2019 feels like decades ago. Every day is just another day with the news of your closest friends being affected by Covid-19 or your loved one passed away. I woke up quite early everyday, never past 8 AM. But before I’d done anything, suddenly it’s past midday, and there goes the guilty feeling. “How come I haven’t done anything? Why did I spent another 1 hour just to watch YouTube? Why didn’t I start on writing my book instead? Why should I feel tired all the time? I don’t have time to feel tired!” These train of thoughts haunted me as the time passed. There’s a very big temptation to list down what I had done in a day. Just so I can assure myself that I don’t have to feel like a piece of trash laying on the ground doing nothing. It’s harsh, I know. But It’s true. And It’s getting harder every time.

I don’t know how this happened. Or why. Or how to stop it. Or should I stop it or not. Everything is so biased right now. We don’t know which information is right or whom to believe. It feels like we’re on our own battle and this kind of thoughts is enemy against the anxiety war. The war that everyone has on their own. Will it be over soon? Or does it normal to feel like this during this “new normal”? Because if it does so, then I don’t know what “enjoy” means anymore.