The moment I got home after hearing the news of schools being closed, I sat at my desk and produced a pen and a piece of paper from the drawer. I knew there was no time to waste.
As there’s never any time to waste, obviously.
On the blank sheet I listed the things I were to do every day for the next few weeks, which turned out to be months.
The reason I did this was to prevent laziness. Or, should I say, lack of control.
Since I came back from my summer stay in England in September 2019, time flew in a blink of an eye. Routine, they say.
There’s nothing wrong in routine, don’t get me wrong. Actually, it has a myriad benefits, as I’ve learned myself.
Gradual and systematic steps lead to a desired long-lasting outcome in the future.
The power of habit.
Yet, that high school day-to-day schedule wasn’t what made me tick, what turned me on. And I thought that was too bad.
Too bad, because I want my life to turn me on, excite me, give me goosebumps. Every second is to be cherished and every moment exhilarating, since once passed – it becomes one’s past.
What I did as a senior was take as many responsibilities as I possibly could – to keep myself going. And I loved it.
Sleep deficit is totally worth the benefit of living.
And there I was – my right hand making agile moves, ink leaving swift marks on the white sheet. I wasn’t motivated to get somewhere, inasmuch as I was sure where I didn’t want to go.
Being a teenager for quite some time now, trust me – I know the traps.
The humongous, hungry monsters, lurking in the shadows, waiting for you to lose track of what you were doing and devour your time by the hour.
In my case, as in many a youngster’s, the internet posed a serious threat.
The ditch of constant satisfaction, hiding behind colorful, semi-minimalistic logos of social media companies, was counting down until I trip and fall into the abyss.
This, I’m sorry to admit, had happened more times than I’m able to count.
Security and prevention methods – predicting where things can go terribly wrong and ensuring my concerns won’t materialize – was my way of getting a grip of myself before it was too late. Some drastic (yet necessary) steps were undertaken.
Limiting screen time on my phone was no use. ‘Uninstall these apps, you don’t need them!’, ordered my internal critic.
And the bastard was right, so I didn’t oppose.
With the thought of originality at the back of my head, being strongly determined to create, and to learn, and get the most out of isolation, I cut myself off any external influx.
There’s no doubt that I am a bit uninformed – I don’t watch television, no radio, and social media are of any use only when it comes to sharing, not absorbing content.
Still, calling it ignorance would also be an overkill. My dad seems to feel obliged to tip me off about the newest numbers, statistics, and predictions.
I do let such raw data in, acknowledging it, nevertheless I reduce the emotional message they might convey.
This strategy turned out to be extraordinarily efficient, despite frequent clashes between my id (who really hates waking up at half past four) and my superego (who’s an early birdie, apparently).
In the end, there’s me, somewhere in the middle, feeling alright.
Maybe more than just “alright”?
Stuck in my little suburban cave, away from the world, writing.