I grew up in a home where everything needs to be done the right way at the right time, where things need to be put in their proper place and where you should look for things with your eyes and not with your mouth.
Since I started schooling, my mom posted a schedule at the back of our bedroom’s door. My day was timed from the hour that I need to wake up until the hour of my supposed bed time. All activities like fixing my bed in the morning, watering the plants in the afternoon, doing my assignments, a little of recreation and cleaning my usually messy room had a corresponding time post.
That training I think made me a very deadline-oriented person. Being late is a failure. If I remember, I never passed a school requirement late. Besides, my journalism training caught me even more on deadlines. Being a journalist, deadlines are actually dead lines or your career is dead. You can not get your article on print if you submit it late. I was trained to always work on a tight schedule especially that I had so many commitments aside from school or work.
I was about to turn 20 when I started working with an educational publishing company. I was the youngest in the team of seven writers and two supervisors. I did not opt to work with a mainstream media outfit because of that very tight schedule that might have affected my other commitments.
At the same time, when I started working, I was elected as the national education department head of the youth organization of our church. I also wanted to enroll for a master’s degree but since it seemed that I can not balance my time among the three, I kept my job and my being a department head. Both required a lot of creativity.
Almost all days are full of activities — weekends are devoted to meetings, weeknights other meetings and workshops; and a lot of thinking and planning. Most of the time, I have grown nocturnal, working to the best of my strength. I could stay up all night layouting papers then go to the office during the day. Loads of coffee keep me going but my eyebags usually bulge and my heart and muscles palpitate. After all such busy days, I could feel that I am almost dying. Most of the times, the only thing that gives me another batch of energy to move on is the feeling of being accomplished.
Days, months, years, my life was confined within the world of tons of activities that sometimes drown me to the neck. I have always been working with the same people, only different activities or organizations. My home computer, as well as that one in the office, could almost break down. Many times, these computers are my best company aside from coffee of course. If only they could shout at me, “stop abusing us!” they might say.
“Get some rest dear,” my mom and boyfriend always remind me.
