I should be writing my paper right now, but instead I spend time putting this thought down. Recently I haven’t been very productive, actually have I ever been? Everyone who knows I take only 3 classes this year always responds in the same way: “You must have a lot of free time on hands”. I’ve never been terribly pleased to hear that. You know, one reading course can be counted as two regular courses; besides, Im taking all 4th year classes, and of course one 4th year credit is much more intense and difficult to earn than one 1st year credit. Just pure fact, no more arguing!
However, I haven’t done much these days, if “doing something” is defined as finishing a project, producing something or just progressing to a preset end. Honestly, I haven’t read much, haven’t written much, haven’t earned much, haven’t made a single move in my job-searching, haven’t participated in much social events, haven’t been around people much, haven’t talked with my friends much. To make matter worse, Im fully aware that I have all the available resources to accomplish these things, but day after day, I live in an obsessing guilt that “another day has just been wasted”.
Especially when I look around and amazed at how much people around me are achieving and can’t help but feeling angry at myself.
But hey, where does that “my life must be productive” come from? Since when is the usefulness of a day ranked according to number of pages read, words written, relationship strengthened, new lessons learnt, email sent and received? Since when do I force my life into separated pieces and value them by number of products made (money earned, ladder climbed)? Since when do I learn to be satisfied or distressed with myself on the basis of progress made by the end of each chunk of time?
How capitalist am I, to organize my day in terms of productiveness and feel guilty to not like others, who I also value by what they accomplish. Be it intensive traveling, accumulated wisdom, rich experience, intelligence, social network, still I admire them for what they have done, what they are doing, rather than who they are and who they will become. Sounds wrong, doesn’t it?
While cooking, I swept aside the nauseous guilt and anticipating anxiety about the haven’t-started-yet-paper-which-is-due-tomorrow-morning, and thought to myself: love takes time, too. How much time should I plan for love? Can I put it into a schedule; make it into a chunk of time, like today I’ll spend 2 hours to love, and 5 hours to study? Love needs time to grow, just like any other tasks we must do every day. Time to talk, to laugh, to share, to reflect, to miss, to imagine, to dream, to cry, to get mad and to comfort each other. Time is real, and if love is real, it must happen in real time, too. That makes it cut into other allocated time for productive activities, and leave me guilty for not doing those things.
Hey, what do you feel if I tell you Im busy these days being in love?
Do you think, like I do, that Im only making excuse for my laziness and terrible self-discipline?
Or do you think we should all enjoy the right to love and forgo work for a while? Because love is a human need, and just like the famous motto of communism: "From each according to his capacity, to each according to his need".
What if I say my need is love and all I ask for is time to satisfy it? Will there be any society humane enough to be willing to provide for someone like me?