Tuesday, 15 March 2016

Worry-ship?

4 post-it notes are placed orderly on my table, one after the other, just like they would've been in my dorm room back in Calvin College. There's a stack of Post-it notes sitting right by my bed too and the top one is filled with a list of 7 things I need to do by the end of this week. 

So far, two items are crossed off the list, and I may just add more things later.
Copies of these Post-it notes sit in the Notes app on my phone; I open and check it at least three times a day to see if I managed to accomplish anything today or if I need to add anything else to these lists. 

These lists consists of things I have to do immediately (from assignments to buying mobile phone top-up vouchers to laundry to planning for spring break) and things I anticipate (from summer internships to buying flight tickets back to the States to cancelling my Amazon prime subscription).

2 schedules are pinned on my board - one of a general timeline of my semester in York, and another of the itinerary of our trip to London. I'd glance at the schedules and Post-it notes from time to time, roll my eyes up, and wonder what I will spend the rest of my day doing.
 
Suffice to say, I'm having quite a busy week. Between assignments and activities to preparing for spring break, I am rather stretched out. I would much rather toss everything aside and take a nice, long nap.

Or do I?

Sometimes, I wonder if, at the back of my head, I am secretly worshiping the idol of busyness. That somehow, in a perverse fashion, I am deriving pleasure from being busy - so as to make myself feel valued. As if the worry made me worthy. As if I am important because I have so many "important" things to do, but in fact, most of the time, I put things on the list just so that I could have the joy of crossing them off.  

One thing down, infinity to go!
As I cross one item, two more items take its place. When will I ever run out of things? When will I ever run out of lists? When will I rest?

"Maybe I'm just too forgetful," I reason with myself.
These lists are just helpful tools to aid my forgetfulness; I'm not obsessed with them. 

While I'd like to think that I put all of these up because they help my forgetful mind remember things better, somehow, I also feel like these things are the cause of my forgetfulness. Perhaps, I've learned the "art" of forgetfulness by being too reliant on these lists.

Maybe it's just the situation and conditions that I am in that force me to be busy. Perhaps. But should I go as far as to take the slightest delight in being busy? Or let it rule my every thought throughout the day? Or let it fill my lips that I should constantly complain about my busyness? 

And then, the stress rolls in and I wonder why this happens. Why do I get stressed so easily?
Funny, because I know darn well that I am the one stressing myself out, and I choose to do nothing about it. Because stressing out about things keeps me on my toes, makes me responsible to keeping my tasks, and fills the void of my time and, unfortunately, my purpose.

A day without a list of things to do is a day without purpose. It is a waste of time, and just like how I would get mad after waking up from an unnecessarily long nap, I am angry at myself for wasting my time. 

Funny, because God is never on my lists. I obscure his presence by crowding my thoughts and my room with a hundred things until I am forced to face him.

To insult God with the scraps of my time, I must be out of my right mind. 
It's time I learned to put aside my idol and be idle.

Or maybe I'm just too busy that I am procrastinating by overthinking things.
Who knows? But it's definitely worth giving it a thought.

I have a hard time deciding if I am ruled by busyness or laziness.   

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