Daily Routine

I usually wake up at around lunch or a little after lunch. The latest recently was 2:30.
And that's because, during the night before, I would not have something to look forward to: no play to rehearse, no song I will need to prepare, no party to celebrate, no book or series that I am so engrossed with to read or watch.

I've probably wasted two weeks' worth of my parents' money on groceries and meals. My bed reeks of fatigue, from supporting my tiredness and laziness most of the day. And my body, slim and sloppy, is so exhausted from the inactivity: my muscles are worn out, my bones are aching from the diversity of fetal positions I have learned to learn in the past two weeks, and my toes have nails longer than my hair. I am so worn out that it feels like I have been trapped on a deserted island, helplessly struggling with my day.

Allow me to narrate my day:
I wake up to shower and to eat my brunch.
I go back to my room.
I brush my teeth, and either play with my phone, read and watch something from the Internet, try to fix my desk or pretend to lengthen my list of to-do's.
Maybe, I call the laundry shop.
I eat dinner, and then drink some milk and nutritious foods I've convinced myself to prioritize.
I brush and wash up.
I browse the Internet some more, before calling my parents and falling asleep.

That's basically it. It's a long list of things that I do, yes, but it always involves being in my room, or in the vicinity.

Get me out of my box.

Lost

It had never occurred that finally being done with school and actually doing nothing puts me in a box, until I realized that shooting home videos of myself screams boredom. Ironically and sadly, being free to do anything I want drains me. Every single day of insignificant eventfulness wears out the youth in me. Probably since the day I had finished with Rizal X (a professional play I had busied myself with for the past three months) until now I cannot remember a single moment of significant activity (except for the mascot-making, which counts as negligible when it comes to progressing my life as a scientist)--a timespan I can cross off my life calendar were I given the chance.

My life sucks. I can't even contribute to society. It's like being a kid again, playing board games, reading fairy tales, running around sweaty and not caring at all, except that now, there's a scarcity of verbs. I never thought that choosing to veer off from the scientific track for a bit could take forever, and now I'm running out of ideas.

Making long checklists of things to do and organizing with my planner were never this difficult. No wait, I take it back. I'm not running out of ideas. I'm running out of realized ideas: it's actually the profusion that holds me back. Too many arrows, can't find the right path.

FIND ME A DAMN JOB. SOMETHING. GIVE ME ANYTHING. And yes, I'm choosy, so if that's joining performing arts groups without getting monetary compensation, then I'm not going for it.