8:54 p.m. this Monday night, it’s post-shower and I’m slathered with skin-so-soft, sprawled out on my bed like a beached porpoise.
Despite an unfortunate interruption of my shower — suddenly no more water from the showerhead, or the faucet, or in the other bathroom, OR THE KITCHEN SINK — I was finally able to rinse off some of the suds by emptying out my water filter. I guess all the effort put me in a contemplative mood.
The brief period of mourning over losing my friends is coming to an end and I’m starting to get busy again. I realize that my habit of wanting to do everything (KAPE work, BSDA, this new American club, photography, cooking experiments, parties, travel, blogs, emails, reading tons, figuring out what to do with myself post-December) often means the peanut butter gets spread too thin. I, for one, HATE my bread with too little spread. Yet (to draw out the analogy in an agonizing fashion) I not have figured out how to achieve a balance — more peanut butter (energy! motivation! passion!) spread over a smaller slice. (I could go on to talk about cutting empty carbs, but that might be going too far).
Writing seems to be essential to keeping my sanity; emails, to keeping my connection with the outside world. KAPE work’s necessary for the salary, plus the experience I’m now getting with the video stuff. Cooking/travel/hanging out/taking pictures/reading are all just fun.
But where am I supposed to fit in my “life’s work”, my big project that will define my life and change the world? I’m always taking on these new small projects: Learn Khmer, make a video, keep a record of the books I read… but I seem sort of short on the follow-through. My attention span wavers after about 3 mos (maybe 6 mo to a year for things that are less monotonous) and I’m on to something different. I’ve been searching for something to inspire me, so I can dedicate my life to its pursuit, but it seems to me that life is just so full and varied that I’ll always be distracted by something new.
Not that I pretend these feelings are original, I know a few 20somethings of my generation with similar angst, but that only makes me feel marginally better.
In this respect, seems like I need to lock myself into some pattern (med school?) that forces me to stick with something for awhile. Perhaps passion at first sight of my true life’s path is a bit much to ask and I need to stick things out a bit more rather than hope for an instant “click” and quick gratification.
On the other hand, what better time to explore than when you’re young? I only feel like I’m losing time — like I should have done more exploring and less “achieving” when I was still in high school and college. Alas, something to think about when I have children of my very own.’