What's the hurry kiddo?

Near the small neighborhood where I used to live is a cemetery, surrounded by green hills, poppy fields, a small lagoon, and old Christian tombstones. In the morning, I would run around the cemetery and climb upon the hills to see the tombs and the names on them more clearly. There are bright sunny days, and there are days when the sky is blue and grey. But the cemetery feels all the same to me. It’s quiet and peaceful, obviously, cause dead men can’t talk. They just watch and listen, and maybe send some signals, through the windy poppy fields.  As I read through the names in the tombs, all the Jasons and Janes, I think of how these people had families. And on visiting days, when the weather is nice, their family gonna come over, put some sunflowers down next to their tomb, and walk over to the lagoon. Then I sort of imagine when the weather is rainy and snowy and all, people will run to their car, and go home. They have a place to go. Everyone, except the dead person. They just gonna lay there, with rain and snow all over their tomb, and no one’s gonna remember to cover their body. It’s just dumb to cover a goddam tomb, and for what? It’s not like they can feel cold or something. But it bothers me, it really does. Then I think of a friend I have a few years ago. He’s funny and kind and never gets mad at anyone. He’s gonna make some ugly faces to make you laugh, and his hair is a whole messy thing. He’s dead now. It was an accident, and he’s 16. But he was there across the room, I saw him with my eyes, I heard him laughing, and I pat him on the shoulder. And now he sort of disappear and lay down somewhere in the middle of the wasteland, among other dead bodies, and people would leave him there to go home.

The funny thing about this, is we weren’t even that close. I gave him some gummy bears once, and he watched me when I shoot the basketball at the playground. Then, I met a girl, she’s a real friend of his. And every year on his birthday, she posts something about him. And when she runs out of his picture, she scribbles him, with his messy hair and crooked teeth and all. It makes me feel like she’s the only one who remembers him. And even I, I forget about him. If not because of those posts, I would forget him. It’s not like he’s important to me or anything, but it was the first time I felt someone, once conscious and being, and now they’re just gone. That’s the only thing annoys me about death. I don’t wanna be forgotten, and I don’t wanna forget things, forget people. And I don’t know you, and you don’t know me, but it still bothers me, it really does.

The winter break is over, and the spring semester at college is already coming. I don’t know how your last semester was, but mine was a helluva a lot. You know, first time going abroad for college and all. 3 days after declaring my major, I looked at the syllabus, and I almost bawled my eyes out. I got sick just from looking at it. I already dropped all my foolish hopes to become a doctor or anything related to health industry, and it didn’t feel right to keep studying Biochemistry. The beans and flies depressed the hell out of me. I thought of finance and business degree, the degree for people who had no life purpose (no offense), but oh boy, the scenery of becoming a finance bro was scary as shit (again, no offense).

Finally, I made a very questionable choice: enrolled in 3 classes from Computer Science Department. I didn’t know anything about programming (I know GitHub and tech influencers tho), I just let my curiosity and spontaneity be in charge this time, cause I seriously didn’t know what to do with my life. Then before school started, I read 2 very cool and beginner-friendly books about computer science, and luckily, I actually grew some interest. Not a bad starting point at all. I survived the first semester, cause I only took 3 classes, and went through a helluva lot of studying. When I thought I was a hot shot already, there always came some goddam things that were so unnecessarily complicated. And people around seemed like they got their shit together already. Some profs are full of themselves. I think they have some god complex. There’s a prof who talks to people as if he won the goddam Nobel Prize for CS. I always know they got paid to do research, not teach, but I’m still stunned when I look at their sloppy and lousy slides and lectures.

Most students at my school take 4 to 5 classes, with a total of 12 to 15 credits per semester. Some of them even have part-time jobs, or other projects and activities. 5 classes per semester are recommended if you want to graduate in 4 years. But, an idea of graduating college within 4 years, or less, isn’t a “want”. It crawls into the heads of 18 and 19-year-old kiddos. Common sense, right? If you don’t graduate within 4 years, have at least 1 internship, 1 part-time job,  founded some non-profit organization, or execute a startup,  then you are screwed in life. Look around, you’re already left behind. I received that kind of reaction when my classmates asked me how many classes I was taking. And some guys started talking about their credit scores and buying cars and houses and all. It kills me. I suddenly have the urge to speed run. But to do that, it also means you gotta give up on other choices.

But the thing is, I longing for so many possibilities. I have this flashy and vanity dream, that one day I’m gonna write a fucking masterpiece of a novel, then win a literature prize, then pack my things and go to Hollywood, to write screenplay for some hot shot directors. I also wanna become a theater actor, and a journalist, then I wanna draw and paint, I wanna make music from my piano and guitar, and I wanna travel, and hitchhike across the world. I wanna make my parents proud, I wanna keep my word to every person I care deeply about, and I wanna be happy. I dwell in possibilities, and I believe that’s what young people do.

But honestly, it’s hard to keep sane in such a pressure-ish society. You have to kill yourself if you don’t get an internship at Mckinsey or Google, that kind of shit. People always have to go somewhere all the time, and where, exactly? That’s another thing, no one fucking knows. But there are some moments when time kinda froze. When strangers mingle on the subway. They all have a story to tell, and even if they not saying anything, you can just see the story. You can feel it when they look out the window all the time. Then I see a man, calling his family, talking in his mother tongue, and there are tears in his eyes. Then there’s a woman sitting on a bench at a park, with her palms all over her face. Then people standing alone next to the station at night, waiting and waiting.

One time, I got trapped on a bus on a very snowy day. Then, the bus slipped down the slope, and no one could get out. There were some Indians, a middle-aged Chinese man, and me. All immigrants. People sit still and stayed calm. Some of them started calling their family on the phone. I wasn’t scared or anything, but I sort of whispered to myself ‘I don’t wanna disappear, please don’t let me disappear, please don’t let me disappear.’ And suddenly, the bus stopped. Apparently, it got stuck on the sidewalk. And people got out, alive. I walked over a few blocks, and I realized the sun was still shining, and people kept walking to places. I almost get fucking crashed, and the goddam sun still shines so beautifully. I’m anonymous to this great big city. It doesn’t matter if I come or go, it won’t stop for me. It was a relief, actually. Cause when nothing matters, you don’t have to care that much.

There’s a forest near my place, and whenever it rains, and oh boy, it rains like crazy in here, I would put on my rain jacket, wear my waterproof running shoes, and go hiking in the forest. Everything is green, and brown, and the land is full of red maple leaves. I sort of wish I would find some magic, something waiting for me, only me, a door, a closet, a shelter that takes me to another world. The forest after the rainstorm feels a little spooky than usual but still peaceful. I almost break my ankles when I tried to climb over a giant stone. I jump right into the heart of the forest, when the thicket and branches crisscross over, like a giant web, to find that magic. But then, I see a goddam empty water bottle some bitch throw away, and it reminds me of the existence of other human beings. But I was so damn happy for a while when I was searching for my escapism. I almost cried and all. When my legs are soared, I sit down under a shady tree, listen to the forest, to the wind, to the squirrel that follows me, and I fall asleep.

There are time when I go to the art gallery. This art gallery I just found is very different to some big ones I have gone to. In big gallery, you see so many phonies in blazers and turtleneck sweaters, walking around like they own the fucking places, and nodding their head about 50 times when they see some mediocre artwork. But in this place, it only has 2 floors, and it is inside a wooden cabin. There’s not much artwork, but they seem like the artists know what they are doing. And the beauty is, there’s no one besides me in the art gallery. When I go upstair, I find another person. He’s sitting silently in front of a short film about a girl braiding her hair in the paddy fields. The film keeps repeating, and he keeps watching. And there’s a fireplace, you can smell the burning wood in the air, with chairs and a table around it. On the table are pencils and papers, to write or draw things. I find a drawing of the cosmos hanging on the wall, and someone wrote under it ‘We are just tiny specks in this great universe, and shall us be forgotten one day.” I guess they’re right. The thing is, when you see life in short term, you find so much negativity. The girl that laughs too loud at 8 in the morning, the man manspreading next to you on the train, the bills are due tomorrow. But when you see life in the longer term, in a bigger scheme, you see how far humankind has gone, and how your problems just turn into dust, like any other thing. Pessimistisim is an easy way out. No shit, it takes so much to be hopeful.

I spent the rest of the afternoon reading “Dear Theo’, a collection of letters Vincent Van Gogh sent to his beloved brother. And the other one was watching that film all the time. No one said a word. The fire burned slowly, the rain splashed outside the window, and we just kept it that way till the gallery closed at 5 p.m. Maybe I’m too lonely, I don’t know. But it’s okay. And if you’re lonely, it’s okay too. It really is.

I have some close friends back then in my country. But we grow apart these days. It’s better that way, cause we just don’t understand each other anymore, and they really give me some pain in the ass, honestly. I mean I love them and all, but I don’t like them, and it’s not even their fault or anything.

I only talk to one friend, perhaps cause she’s too much like me. Bitch keeps horsing around, and only god knows what she’s up to next. And when things are shitty, she gets it, and you don’t even have to say too much. She knows, and you know, and that’s enough. We don’t have a talking schedule. We just randomly call each other at very weird times. She hit me up recently when she was at the goddam airport in Taiwan, dropped out of university in Vietnam, and never mentioned to me anything before. I call my parents too. We try to call every day, not because we are close, just as a way of letting them know that I’m still alive, safe and sound. Mom is nervous as hell, and when I tell her something, literally anything, she always has a full lecture to preach. Everyone agrees that she gotta stop doing that if she wanna keep just 1 person to have a conversation with. Love facetiming you anyways, mom. Dad is alright, I mean he truly wanna listens to me, even just nuanced things. It’s very nice to have someone who wants to listen to you, really.

I do try to make friends here. Moving around experience teaches me enough to blend in and socialize with people. But it is always some endless small talks. No surprise, Vancouver people aren’t too hot shot to get to know you and your culture. They have their life figured out already. And the worst thing about it, is I realize when I’m surrounded by white people, I start talking like a fucking white people. I hate it when I act like that, and I just withdraw from the social setting eventually. The way they talk, act, and think, not much to say. It’s fun to watch Western shows and comedies, but I guess it’s not the case in daily life. Not being salty or bitter or anything, just speaking from my experience.

So yeah, despite the urge to speed run, I end up taking 3 classes this semester. I don’t think I would have time to horsing around, writing, and enjoying any spectacular moment in the present if I take more than that. I just want you to know that you don’t have to be a certain way, or have to do a certain thing. You can be anything you want. I mean, look at yourself. You have come this far, to a whole new place, to be free, and to do things you want. So why limit and project yourself into someone else’s expectation? The world always gonna turn out alright. I don’t know how, but it always does. Remember the last time it got shitty? How’s it now? It’s alright, right? I know the whole peer pressure and FOMO really fuck up your head, but everybody has their own problem. Everybody is trying to survive at some point. We see a tiny good flick on someone’s Instagram, someone we barely know, and we assume that they are living a dream life, a life that we desire. For god sake, social media isn’t real at all.  Day has different flicks, it can be amazing in 5 minutes, then shitty for the rest of the time. You don’t have to be depressed, painful, and tragic in this life. You don’t have to seek pain, and call that’s how life works. It really isn’t. There’s always a choice, it’s right there, you know. If you like me, you can take a gap year and figure things out. You can change your major 4 times, and that’s gonna be fine. Take your time, but don't waste it, is what I mean. Do things that matter to you.  You can take longer than 4 years to graduate from college. Every student has their own stress tolerance. You are not incapable, you just have so much to do, and you are just 18, 19, whatever.

Things are not going anywhere. Your family, your friend, money, fame, love, social status, or whatever you desire. So take your time while you reach there. And for some people, for any reason, you must rush through life, doing a degree that you despise, cause you have responsibilities, and because there is someone that’s dependent on you. Then you have all my admiration and respect. I wish you find own happiness later in life.  You have all the time you want in this world. And for people who can have more choices and options, I hope you slow down a bit, think about other possibilities, and enjoy the present, cause what’s the hurry, kiddo?