Hi, it is Nhi.
It has been a while since I last posted my blog post. I miss Worldlittlelights and the WordPress community a lot. Sometimes, when I found some free time in my hectic schedule this semester, I would briefly get on it to see if there were anything new and immediately feel guilty about not being able to post anything.
This semester is truly crazy.
I flew back to the States in August, started school with five classes, an internship that takes from me 20 hours per week (not including long hours of commuting), a club board position and other small roles in at least two organizations. Before taking on things, I told myself, “Let’s just try this for one semester. It is not like I will die.”
But things do get too much to bear at times, and that’s why I am here, writing about questions and thoughts that I had because maybe at the next moment, I will find myself running on the street and worrying too much about the future to care about the present.
It is Nhi from Boston. I am sorry that I stopped writing two days ago. I am currently at the bus station, waiting to get back to New York in one and half an hour.
It seems weird, but I think I have forgotten what I wanted to write about two days ago. I remembered having mixed emotions and a tremendous lack of sleep. I remembered wanting to write and share and wait for comments. But I forgot what was in my head.
That’s one thing about my life right now. I don’t seem to live in the moment like how I always want to. I don’t see my planner filled with personal notes from each day because I am too fatigued to scribble down any words. Time to pick up a book for my own pleasure lurks in a parallel universe. My life is measured by how many tasks I am able to cross off the list, and how many tasks left to do. Then, I also can’t invest quality time on each task, because of deadlines and my lack of sleep. Terrible, isn’t it?
But on the bright side, I am physically tired, but not mentally. I don’t find too much time to take things personally, feel sad, agonize over a small problem and overcomplicate things. It is great to be busy, especially in this case, I am busy for many good causes.
Is it right to take on as many things as I am able to right now, so I can shorten the time it takes to find my passion, calling, that one thing that I really love to do?
I am sorry. I couldn’t finish my post yesterday.
I am on the subway again, trying to fight back the tears brought over because of my own discomfort and anger. A teenager from a privileged family just texted and wanted me to come tutor him, not paying attention to whether I have plan or not. He just said: “Come”, not even asking if I could. Yet, because I want to earn some bucks that will certainly help my studies in future, I said okay, leaving what I was doing to run to the train station and preparing for the one hour of commuting.
Only at the moment I sat down, did I get angry. No matter how many times I had told him , “It is not easy to travel in New York. It takes me at least an hour to get to your place”, he still notified me of the changed plans at last minute. What is worse, he wouldn’t be able to understand what the struggle is as a commuter when all he used is cab. He insisted, “I took the subway once. Nothing ever happened. There was no delay. I don’t understand why you are late.”
That’s the thing about privilege. He doesn’t know that he has it. He gets so overprotected by his parents that he has no idea how to be considerate of other people’s feelings. Teaching him is difficult, not because he is slow in processing the information but because he doesn’t want to study.
I am on the subway back to my dad’s apartment so that I can have dinner with him. It will make my life a lot easier to go back to my own room near the school, but I try as much as I can to spend sometimes with him. Living by yourself can be difficult and lonely. I don’t want that feeling to get to him, so I do my best, even when that means less two hours of sleeping.
My writing skill truly sucks. Sometimes, when I read works from others whose dreams are not even to become writers, I feel embarrassed about my own dream. I would wonder, “What if I were born in an English speaking environment and got to read as many books in English as I did in Vietnamese from childhood, where would I be right now?”
My internship environment isn’t a vicious one, but one that makes me feel pressured, dumb and not belonged. A lot of it has to do with how I am a part-time intern, so I don’t have as much time as others to bond. And I should have done more research about the philosophy of the organization that I was planning to work for.