It seems that as I grow, the number of years matter less and less.
My sporadic passions can be much like ocean currents carrying jellies, taking me across vast spaces with potential to travel a thousand different directions. At any given time, at least three or four or ten different projects are circulating through my head. What kind of article should I write this month? Where would I want to travel next? I should read more. What can I paint next on my wall? How can I connect art and science and share it with the world?
I often find myself proceeding as if I’m running out of time, especially when at school. I stride across our massive campus between classes, learning new music lessons as I walk. I screen my radio show playlists as I do chemistry practice problems. I read magical realism on my way to volunteer at the aquarium, and I sketch trees, flowers, and everything in between over a late lunch. I skim research papers, semi-purposefully throw paint at various blank surfaces, and melt into the ocean, letting the waves brush against the edge of my clothes that house stray chalk dust. My notebook absorbs me as I scribble in its dotted pages in my best attempt to capture it all.
Every time I see a documentary about human evolution in the grand scheme of the planet’s development, I remember how years can be reduced to mere seconds in proportion. This time is a fraction of what I have– yet, somehow, the start of college last year feels miles away.
I try to commit to everything I do with all the energy I can muster, but I often wonder if this is sustainable. I have no idea if I could ever harness my interests to one post, covering all of them under a single umbrella in the long run when it comes down to finding a career. My laundry list of running projects seems like it will require many years and several industrial-sized washers to tackle.
But as I grow, the years matter less and less. What matters more are the moments of happiness and pride within them.
Happy fifth birthday, Wordy&Nerdy. Looking forward to more seconds ticking by.