Despite fear of being ridiculously cliché, I spent my drive back to campus reminiscing. Could I help it? Possibly. But I’m not sure that I think so. In just about 2 months, I’ll be starting my final semester at UOG (God, I hope) when just three years ago I was starting my first. Just last week, I applied for graduation and right before I finalized my schedule for my final fall.
And still, I vaguely remember where I was three years ago. I was riding to school with two of my best friends. At least once a week, we’d leave early and stop by a bakery where we’d eat breakfast — mine was always a bagel with cream cheese. At lunch, I’d meet more friends and take something from the Von’s (yes, we had Von’s) counter, usually a bento box if I wasn’t feeling particularly like chicken. At night, I’d retire to some conversation with someone I cared about and eat and do homework and probably watch something I would cry about later. Every Wednesday, I’d have friends over for tea and board games and just life. Every Friday I’d read a book or go to Buddies to read a book. And on an occasional Thursday, we’d go to a midnight premiere that none of us would remember we saw the year later.
Sounds nice, once you disregard the painful tears, the spiteful words and the heartbreaks that took place all at the same time — just so we could remember that it is an unavoidable part of life. But it was. Since then, I’ve gotten on and off diets, started and stopped running, hurt and gotten hurt, and have fallen apart and put myself back together more times than I would care to count. Hearts have broken, friendships had drifted and there seems to be less and less hours in the day to do anything.
Today, I sit alone (not for any reason other than my friends are eternally occupied and there’s not much time I have to spare) in the science building, waiting for my next class to come because I’m really trying to graduate this fall. More often than not, I am tired and hungry and altogether not sure how to breathe regularly. I get calls in the night and in the middle of class for requests to do this or that. My job, it doesn’t sleep and a huge part of me likes it that way because I always have something to do with my hands. I have dinner once a week with some of my closest friends, I rehearse and shoot with for Siha monthly, and I run the fun ones when I can. There is less time for books and tea and netflix, or making sure I eat every meal. My life is stressful yet rewarding. Still, I find myself craving for more time to eat or sleep or work and I wish I weren’t in such a position to do so.
I’m happy, despite the momentary break downs and crises, believe me but there is always something that could be better. (What I call “the curse of the eternally unsatisfied human”).
To finish, here are 10 of things I’d like to keep in mind for the days to come; so when I take my 3 year reflection (assuming this becomes a thing), I would be a little more proud of myself:
- Be a little more mindful of how you spend your time and money. Okay, maybe a lot more mindful.
- Eat better. Pretty soon, you’ll have more time to not be a fried college kid. Hopefully, you’ll have more money too.
- Write more and more and more. You used to journal. No shame in doing that again. It keeps you sane and you tend to remember a lot more when you do it.
- Find the time to chip away at unfinished projects. They are good ideas and worth it, even if it’s just for yourself.
- Take your daily dosage of deep breathing exercises.
- Finish the books on your side table.
- Remember your ultimate wish. And become the example of it. Do not become the eternally unsatisfied human. Love yourself, your life and your loves.
- Forgive, forget and do what you can to prove you deserve to be forgiven.
- Do it now because you are never guaranteed tomorrow. Leave nothing too open. Sensibly, of course.
- Hold on to love — in all forms — and do your best to fight for it like hell because at the end of the day, that’s all you want and that’s all you’ll care about. And love hard because that’s the only way you do.
Ruzelle Almonds 