Adulting:
the practice of behaving in a way characteristic of a responsible adult, especially the accomplishment of mundane but necessary tasks.

The blazing sun wakes me up around 6:30 am through the crack of the window curtains. My studio glows in the sudden burst of shining light that I wish it stays in forever. My condo studio sits on the top level of a fancy neighborhood. The birds chirp around that time, I slowly open up my eyes to see my favorite water glass reflected onto the wall. Flower-shaped carvings that are slightly pulled to the right or to the left, depending on where the sun comes from. Waking up has been an effort these days, to say the least. Still is. Despite the annoying alarm on my phone, I still manage to sleep through it, almost missing the time to get to work. My effort to get more sleep combined with the effort I put to stay in my bed shows the level of commitment I have with being late. Every time I want to be early is my worst nightmare. Sorry, I’m late, I didn’t want to come. I gulp half the water in the glass, sit and close my eyes. I go back to bed. I wait until 7:01 or 7:05 and continue to tell myself a lie about getting up in 5 minutes.
I have to go take a shower, put on something, brush my teeth, fix my hair, put on makeup and must make a green smoothie. Green smoothie is a substitute for coffee. I can’t imagine the taste of coffee anymore for I have grown to hate it. I quit my addiction to it the moment one of my ex was out my life. Two birds in one stone. You can imagine the bitterness of the relationship and the coffee together. It definitely was not a sweet time. The last time I enjoyed anything coffee related was in IPA, on a date with a Finnish. That’s another story. So much of my taste in my beverage and men, which are both important have dramatically changed since. I dread the thought of it all. Slowly dragging myself to the washroom — I let the cold water hit my face and suddenly I’m awake. I pick the same colorless outfit that looks more European and minimalist, I put extra concealer under my eyes. I blend the same smoothie- spinach, banana, mango, avocado, collagen powder, yogurt, coconut milk. The clock reads 8:05am- I’m late. Panic, although this happens every time. Out of habit, I lecture myself every morning about the importance of showing up to work early. Everyday, I fail to walk out what I preach.
I live in a hippy place filled with people my age and a college campus across my street. Coffee shops and places for leisure are all around. The stationary store by the studio has some cool paper decorative pieces that I could incorporate to my modern looking- half bricked wall studio. Lately, I’m in the deep holes of interior design obsession caused by the Swedes. Minimalism is what I am trying to achieve. After all, where you live says a lot about you. And I’m privileged to have found my nook in the fanciest city. The start of adulthood comes with much responsibility that no one prepares us for.
I cross the street and enter the train station. I stand still on the escalator and observe people rushing in a hurry to work. On my end, there is no use for me to freak out- I’m already late. I might as well grab something to munch on from Tatte. Work starts at 8:30 am for me but something about the 30 minutes bothers me. I like 9:00am better. This way it give me time to get it all together. I don’t like anything that has 30 minutes added to it. The train approaches, I gasp fresh air before squeezing in with anonymous people, all seem to be fine touching one another for the sake of accomplishing their mission (going to work). I like to play my own game in the train. I usually look at everyone sitting or standing before me out of habit. The psychology of people is interesting- the moment you look at them in the eyes, they freak out. This phone really gets in the way of authentic interaction. I usually read or close my eyes when uncomfortable. The train is really a weird place where people are replaced with robots. The usage of technology is quite disgusting in the railroads. It makes me sad to see the amount of people glued to their phones and headsets, barely noticing anything.
I get off at a stop where most geeks get off. (I like to consider myself one). It’s a technology and innovation hub in the whole world. 8:45 my phone reads. These things have become a second nature. Can’t be disappointed at myself if I have no expectations to begin with. I learned that the hard way, it does work for most everything. The happier you’ll get, when you have lower expectation for the things and people around you. Let their action surprise you instead. I try to limit my imagination concerning most things.
Tatte has the best fattening pastries- good for the soul. I like their raspberry cheesecake, so I pick it every time. I also like the cheese filled croissant and mini sesame cupcakes. I had tried almost everything on their menu. I like to think I’m a loyal costumer that could probably bring more business to them if they pay me. I try hard not to get noticed in public- I am the most uncomfortable when I’m noticed and someone stops to talk to me. But of course, I politely push aside my urge to run away and act normal when it happens. I am hyper aware of everything and everyone. It is both a strength and a weakness of mine. Good in a sense that it’s easier for me to connect the missing pieces and dig deep to the core of the psyche. The bad part is that I am unable to normalize my mind into a state of tranquility.
There is something beautiful about the morning- the fresh beginning of the day mapped out with the possibilities. I walk to work, pastries in hand, unashamed of my tardiness. I smile bright as the elevator opens to the third floor of the building. I walk to my desk by the window to the river. It is a good day indeed in my world to keep it together. I see my reality fit in all these constraints. Everyday, I try to be an adult, I try to come to the final realization of conformity. The acceptance of conformity- as much as I hate to admit it. I struggle between of my individual freedom and fitting in the box of society.
Oh, beautiful struggle.
