It’s scary to me how fast time flies.
“Time flies.” The age-old cliché, yes? But even in my insignificant teen years, I can feel it. Time is the snowstorm that slashes through the countryside. Millions of tiny crystals flood the air, one moment after another, piling up in the blink of an eye into a ten-inch blanket. A memory like a fugacious wind, here one minute and gone the next, another felt at another time, but never quite the same way.
I’ve watched my sister grow from a helpless terrible two into a witty seven-and-about-to-become-eight-year-old. I remember one kindhearted, falun gong practicing babysitter after another. Those summer afternoons walking to 7-11 with yeye (grandpa, general term) to pick up groceries, since no one could drive. I remember the countless nights spent watching Chinese and dubbed Korean TV dramas on channels that I’ve somehow lost over the years, and the fact that I am still watching those same dramas, and more, from those distant days. Huanzhu Ge Ge. Qing Shen Shen Yu Meng Meng. Stairway to Heaven. Goong. Full House. I get asked who Time Magazine’s Person of the Year was and the first name that comes to mind is Vladimir Putin. Yeah—news from 2007, when we were actually receiving magazine subscriptions and I was actually up-to-date with life outside my little snowglobe. I pick up my video games from 2006 and back, and I think in bewilderment, Has it seriously been that long? Four years? DEEP RIVER by Utada Hikaru, my first Japanese CD that I still adore? 2002. Eight years.
Holy freaking crap.
I felt myself slump when I checked the county website this morning. It’s a snow day. I should be overjoyed… but I’m not. I needed to take a test today. I needed to get that test over with today. Today will not be spent sipping hot chocolate by a warm fire and curling up with a good book under the covers. Today will be spent finishing my math homework, my chemistry lab report, my history reading, my notes on mammals and hominoids and hominids that I stayed up till 2 AM last night trying—and failing—to complete.
When did I become this way? When did I lose my free time? I read over my old Xanga entries back when that was all the rage, and I am stunned. What? I had so much free time? I had time to be fastidious over such useless things? I was carefree, stress-free, and completely and utterly happy?
Holy freaking crap.
What have I done to myself? Why I have immersed myself so much in—dare I say it—frivolous things such as schoolwork? Schoolwork is my life right now. It’s my lifeline, my mechanism to cope with emotional crap. Normal people talk to their friends about this stuff. But I’m afraid to do that; afraid of opening myself up for tears and hysterics. I feel sad, I do schoolwork. I feel angry, I do schoolwork. Without it, I’m afraid I’ll be nothing. I worry about having free time. I worry about not being productive. I feel guilty when I’m enjoying the free time that I have not allowed myself to have. No time is free time. And there’s something so, so wrong with that statement.
I’m sorry about this completely negative, food-lacking post after my wonderful experience with prayer and love from the blogging community. Gotta blame the snow for this one… I’ll be ready with a peppy, food-loving post next time!
Q: Do you get the “time flies” feeling or bouts of nostalgia? How do you deal with it?