I hate cleaning my room

Burara kasi ako. It simply means my cage is too messy that cleaning it on my own would take at least 2 days to finish, no matter how small it is, with less than 3-single-bed floor capacity. My window is facing the polluted street of Sto. Tomas, so I could plant any rootcrop in my room after months of stagnation. And as I age, my trash multiplies and ages with me. What I hate the most is my unreasonably dragging attention to my trash.

Over the years, it has been my room-cleaning tradition to browse through my old and new trash for a very long time and judge whether to keep or discard them. This time, my trash included handouts from my college and masters classes, not to mention my college books and high school materials that I kept over the years, if not decades (They're trash in a sense that they're unorganized bulks of paper scattered all over my room). I remember every detail of what the materials remind me of - from Public Health subjects to our fieldwork report (that kicked asses by the way) to Epidemiology courses and outbreak investigation.

They were good memories so vivid that I started to smile. Actually, I was starting to forget that I was a public health worker and an aspiring epidemiologist, with all these grudges with my current work and my attention given to music as a course. Then this...

I also saw some newspapers from my grade school and high school years, but not college newspapers when I made good in journalism. Perhaps I intended not to keep them, sparing me from another cause of anguish.

All these remind me of my current status in life - free of choice. Before, I had to accomplish compelling requirements, such as finishing high school and landing on a good university. And my previous thinking was I must finish whatever course I took in college, then get a good job. I did all that. In fact, I have a good job now, only to find myself itching to get out of it, during the times of global crisis. In other words, I can do whatever I want with my life now, without boundaries.

Once I wanted to be a doctor, then an epidemiologist, now a musician. It made me sad. I feel that I am irrationally leaving a big part of who I wanted to be, wasting all my knowledge and skills I gained for a very long time, just like that. And aside from making myself a one-of-a-kind freak (a public health musician, who would have thought..?), it made me stay out of focus on my future.

I hate cleaning my room because it takes me back to the past, remembering and digesting what I have done over the recent years.

But still I'm cleaning, and will proceed in my day two - probably the last day.

Kung may katulong lang ako...

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Yum-in-a-box

An Af-fur to Remember

Self-contempt at Its Peak