I don't know how it got to here but I can't help myself. As I lie sprawled on my couch watching John Oliver on YouTube, guilty thoughts seep into the front of my mind. "How many push-ups have I done today? Did I write any code today?... I need to look for jobs....when was the last time I listened to a Mandarin podcast in full?" Ok ok, there's only 5 minutes left in the video. The right corner of my screen an some quick calculation tells me that by 9:40 I'll be off my computer and on the ground doing a set of push-ups.
The video is hilarious. John Oliver is on point, his deliberate Englishness belying his astute understanding of America. Time for push-ups because I want to be a better athlete, and because I've never really had sculpted pecs and now I don't have a gym membership. As I get up I see my bookshelf and the unread half. There's McCarthy's Bar, a novel about drinking in Ireland that my mom got for me that I haven't read. The book on Chinese wind energy that my professor wrote that I need my full mental effort to crack, and may be irrelevant within 2 years. That teen romance book that my aunt mistakenly thought would make a decent present. That book on choice that caught my eye at Eslite, I really thought I'd have read it by now. That book about the history of trade - actually read that one. And then there's the huge hardcover about mathematicians that all my guests notice but I've barely opened. When does life have time for these? They're more fixtures of my interior design than published media.
I break my gaze away from the daily reminders of stuff I haven't read and get ready to tackle the daily exercise I haven't done. But as my hands hit the floor I'm not even sure what I want to do. A full set of normal push-ups? A set of 30 clap push-ups to get more explosive? Or finger push-ups til I drop to make my flick huck stronger? I opt for 100 of the traditional and push my way through, digging deep in the 90s. Getting up I can barely raise my arms as I go wash my hands. Staring into the mirror, my reflection tells me I need to do sit-ups as well, and work on my obliques and lower back. And now that I think about it, I should be doing calf raises to help this ankle heal.
Back on my laptop I close YouTube and see another 10 tabs to manage. The article on big data in the smart grid that dad sent, the Wikipedia article I wandered to on a Hungarian polymath patriot, the CodeAcademy course for Python - and of course my blog. Without even realizing it, I've put on a podcast on sports that I've already listened to.
When did my apartment become a repository for reminders to be productive? Do I live in a one bedroom rental, or a terribly inefficient factory manufacturing Cal's life? Maybe my ADD is feeding off this place. Maybe it's the busyness of Hong Kong that has removed any sense of calm from my life. Or maybe this is me working hard to be the best person I can be. In fact, I would say that much of my happiness this past year has been derived from satisfactory productivity.
And this is why I can't stop. There are so many things I want to do and even more things I think I ought to do. My life has devolved into an ever-evolving to-do list which has made the time go by way too fast and left me often tired, but I guess I kinda enjoy it. I tie so much of my self-worth to my athletic, social, professional and miscellaneous advances. I can no longer even understand how people can be happy just being. Every workout that leaves me sore, every new recipe satisfactorily executed, every job applied leaves me a little more hopeful for the future, and don't get me started on how I feel when I finish a real book.
I open my fridge to get a drink of cold water. Bending down, I see the literal overriped fruits of my ambitions, purchases made in the pursuit of balanced vitamins but forgotten in the pursuit of everything else. It's somehow already 11:30. I'd set a goal to get to sleep by midnight, which means I really shouldn't do sit-ups now. I still have 11 tabs open because the internet has made it easy to find all the tools to finding everything you ever wanted to learn, but hasn't really made it all that much easier to learn it. I miss my midnight bedtime by an hour and a half.
The video is hilarious. John Oliver is on point, his deliberate Englishness belying his astute understanding of America. Time for push-ups because I want to be a better athlete, and because I've never really had sculpted pecs and now I don't have a gym membership. As I get up I see my bookshelf and the unread half. There's McCarthy's Bar, a novel about drinking in Ireland that my mom got for me that I haven't read. The book on Chinese wind energy that my professor wrote that I need my full mental effort to crack, and may be irrelevant within 2 years. That teen romance book that my aunt mistakenly thought would make a decent present. That book on choice that caught my eye at Eslite, I really thought I'd have read it by now. That book about the history of trade - actually read that one. And then there's the huge hardcover about mathematicians that all my guests notice but I've barely opened. When does life have time for these? They're more fixtures of my interior design than published media.
I break my gaze away from the daily reminders of stuff I haven't read and get ready to tackle the daily exercise I haven't done. But as my hands hit the floor I'm not even sure what I want to do. A full set of normal push-ups? A set of 30 clap push-ups to get more explosive? Or finger push-ups til I drop to make my flick huck stronger? I opt for 100 of the traditional and push my way through, digging deep in the 90s. Getting up I can barely raise my arms as I go wash my hands. Staring into the mirror, my reflection tells me I need to do sit-ups as well, and work on my obliques and lower back. And now that I think about it, I should be doing calf raises to help this ankle heal.
Back on my laptop I close YouTube and see another 10 tabs to manage. The article on big data in the smart grid that dad sent, the Wikipedia article I wandered to on a Hungarian polymath patriot, the CodeAcademy course for Python - and of course my blog. Without even realizing it, I've put on a podcast on sports that I've already listened to.
When did my apartment become a repository for reminders to be productive? Do I live in a one bedroom rental, or a terribly inefficient factory manufacturing Cal's life? Maybe my ADD is feeding off this place. Maybe it's the busyness of Hong Kong that has removed any sense of calm from my life. Or maybe this is me working hard to be the best person I can be. In fact, I would say that much of my happiness this past year has been derived from satisfactory productivity.
And this is why I can't stop. There are so many things I want to do and even more things I think I ought to do. My life has devolved into an ever-evolving to-do list which has made the time go by way too fast and left me often tired, but I guess I kinda enjoy it. I tie so much of my self-worth to my athletic, social, professional and miscellaneous advances. I can no longer even understand how people can be happy just being. Every workout that leaves me sore, every new recipe satisfactorily executed, every job applied leaves me a little more hopeful for the future, and don't get me started on how I feel when I finish a real book.
I open my fridge to get a drink of cold water. Bending down, I see the literal overriped fruits of my ambitions, purchases made in the pursuit of balanced vitamins but forgotten in the pursuit of everything else. It's somehow already 11:30. I'd set a goal to get to sleep by midnight, which means I really shouldn't do sit-ups now. I still have 11 tabs open because the internet has made it easy to find all the tools to finding everything you ever wanted to learn, but hasn't really made it all that much easier to learn it. I miss my midnight bedtime by an hour and a half.
Part of this lifestyle is to be blamed on my values. I should know better. I know that none of this stays when I die, that knowledge gained from the books will be buried with me, that lifeless lips don't speak any language. Jesus conveys this message and I think I really do get it. But when I apply it to the society I'm living in, I really think I can cheat the system - I'll work so hard that I can leave something eternal behind. But as soon as I type this, I know that nothing humans create is truly eternal.
2 comments:
LOVE this post. Story of my life regarding books and open tabs, too!
Great post Cal. I totally relate. I think you can't really enjoy relaxation/vacations/leisure unless you are otherwise busy and hardworking, and you can't really appreciate work if you never take breaks, so yeah, you're doing it right.
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