I’ve been busy working on my prototype since March began. Every weekday I wake up around 7am and work till evening. It raises a lot of interesting questions for me, such as motivation. I look forward to waking up to work on it.
I thought I would need to install some discipline and schedule to work regularly on it, instead I have the opposite problem. I am prone to migraines and painful eyes if I get exposed to the screen for too long, so I have to be disciplined about not overworking. I haven’t been very good about it though, because I think about it even when I am not working on it.
It has gotten to a stable state, so I hope I can instill some balance back to my schedule. I have lived long enough to know that extremity is expensive, it will cost me some way or another if I am not careful in the long run.
The past few weeks have been one of the most fulfilling periods of my life. I am happy just to be working on my projects and spending time with my loved ones. Once again I am reminded I don’t need much. I don’t even want much. I am uninterested in what people deem as achievements or progress. I have come to a point where I don’t even envy people’s lives anymore (like I used to). I am satisfied with mine the way it is. If I can have a little stream of income to fund my projects and maybe a trip/gift or two, I’ll have enough.
However my savings are not infinite, so I’ll have to get a source of income some day. I’ve become zen enough not to worry too much about what I can’t control or predict in the future – my own life has taught me that variables change very quickly. I’ll cross that bridge when it comes.
But I do ask myself: what if having a source of income means falling back into deep depression all over again? What if trying to survive monetarily makes me hate life, myself and humankind? What if I become an unkinder person because I have to deal with the stress that comes with it?
This is life, you might say. But is it? Do we accept that we have to be anxious, stressed and unfree because we need money to live?
What does living mean? Why does being born into life make me bound to participate in this system that makes me feel dead inside?
I don’t know what the future brings. But I’ll take now. Whatever comes I know at the very least who I can be when enough space is given to me. For now I’ll try to make the best of it.