What's the Rush?

Six months passed.

Six months to go. ( Well so at least almost five months to go)

You ever had a feeling things you planned haven’t been working out? Like how you graduated from college a year ago and all the efforts from the stretch of four years haven’t really been paying off? How you go to bed night after night unsure of a happier tomorrow? And then you wake up the next day to the scent of an unproductive morning? I should know, I’m going through it too.

I keep asking myself what happened to myself.

And then it sank in- quarter life crisis.

This was and is difficult. I had nowhere to go and yes I am going nowhere; I wasn’t even starting yet.

This is how the story goes..

Four years in college finally ended. The graduation felt rushed, the Pinning Ceremony days after that felt even worse. Two months of review blew in and next thing I find myself sitting in a random room, in front of some pieces of filed papers, taking my board exam. Another month had gone by and then there was I, catching a flight, going back, to my home town.

Somehow, it’s legal to say it felt wrong. Read it again, it felt wrong. Like really WRONG. I surpassed four years in a huge city almost by myself and then I was going back home. You’re not suppose to come back, when you already left the nest (movie: POST GRAD).

Moving along, I had no choice. Dad had me financially captivated (or so to speak). Although I could have had many other options in staying in the big city but I had to deviate from my graduated course. Then I thought doing such could be a risk I’d regret. I was positive it could’ve been regretful. I went back home. Followed Dad’s orders of looking for a local employment (though it’s really more of volunteer stuff) for my profession. Six months passed, I realized I used up all my time either in a coffee shop, dreaming of my future with all my decked-out plans or out at night, clubbing to Rihanna’s latest beats ‘til dawn just because it felt so great to go out with much of the people I know around the city.

Real life is hard. This was it. I was on my own and I was panning my own way to real life.

After six months of the bum life though, I found myself a slot in the local city hospital as a nurse trainee. No pay, no compensations or fancy schmancy benefits; just me giving pure labor and service.  Although sometimes, I honestly hated it. I went home tired and uncompensated. Dad too, hated the idea of providing me everything I wanted. Just maybe, this was one of his ways of making me strive even harder. And so I did.

I had a list of plans and I still have. Some though, have been kicked to the bucket. It felt so bad at times knowing I’m working really hard and then I set-up a couple of plans show case them to my boss (Dad) and he gives me a NO. It’s crucial shit- seeing my dreams blown away by reality.

And then it hit me. In the face. I was in a hurry. I had a list in a paper- it was all too tangible. No wonder I was in a hurry. I realized the faster we run after our dreams, our goals, the faster we get hit by disappointments and frustrations right in the face when at the first place, what’s the rush? and most of all, why not take our time?

Six months passed and I’m almost done with my volunteer contract from the local hospital. After this, here I will be again, standing in this point in my life, very unsure, but very calm.

I still have a couple of things I want to accomplish though; I would try my hardest to have them done but I won’t confine myself with a deadline just because I have all the time.

Before this year ends, I still have six months.

Six months of taking my time. ;)

xx,

ria, batteries not included.