making time in an urgent world

13 Sep, 2026

My first semester of graduate school is in quarter terms. The material is outside of my usual scope (going from humanities to STEM is not for the weak), and the course I'm enrolled in is so short. Seven weeks! So much self-studying, so much information, so little time.

And, after this quarter ends, the second quarter begins. I've yet to speak on that experience, but I will say that even with my prior preparations, I'm collecting surprises left and right. Grad school is hard. Really hard. I'm waving the white flag. I feel out of practice. (We're not dropping out, though.)

I recall the insistence of my teachers from high school honors courses, speaking of college being this unforgiving leviathan. None of our shenanigans in this classroom will be tolerated by professors (and, of course, the use of cursive will be commonplace). The rigor of high school set even higher expectations for my freshman year as an undergraduate. I would have no time for fun. Little did I know, well, college wasn't too bad--or rather, it wasn't as bad as it was made out to be.

My time as an undergrad had its challenges, but it wasn't an impossible hurdle. Much of it was classroom politics, discussion board participation symposia, and evergreen study guides (emphasis on study guides). Throw in an internship towards graduation while juggling full-time employment. Walk the stage, diploma, great, grand.

My full-time employment stayed the same, as I just shifted around my current company instead of entering the field I went to school for. The tail-end of my undergrad program arrived just as AI and outsourcing for my field were creating job insecurity en masse--that and my non-STEM program didn't prepare my cohort for the front- or back-end developer skills¹ needed to adapt.

I was kind of left in this state where I had to somehow culminate a few year's worth of a GitHub portfolio, all within a short amount of time, in order to make this diploma I earned mean something. A peer of mine who's been in the field even said to learn Python to be a stronger candidate. My role at the time within my company had more responsibilities added, and I was regularly going into overtime. I have some progress in Python, but I've admittedly had to put a pause on that. There just wasn't much time after 40+ hour work weeks.

Well, there was, but put it this way: up until graduation, I actually didn't have much time for fun. Days without an itinerary of work or coursework were days catching up on sleep. I spoke to friends in passing, and spent time with them less frequently. I feared they'd forgotten me with how much of my days were spent doing homework right after a shift. (They didn't, thankfully.)

And so, homework waned and I started to see the light. My final year 'til graduation and post-grad was catching up on fun. I went on trips to new lands, had a few lovers, cut my hair in styles I haven't had before (one was an aggressively androgynous mullet), and got many big and small tattoos². "I felt anew," as I had written in a journal once.

Life didn't stop when I finished undergrad. My friends and lovers got more responsibilities and life shifts and I talked to them less or drifted apart from some. The passage of time seemed all the more elusive. I thought I could pick up where I left off, but no, things change. People change, all the time.

Perhaps it's a consequence of my age. Since turning 30, I've felt like I've had to do things, always be doing something. I've pondered what those things could be--however innocuous, temperate, impulsive, or serious--everything from film marathons to traveling to marriage to another crazy haircut. Thoughts buzz through my head and I imagine lifetimes in the span of 15 minutes on average, but I feel as weary as if I've lived through them all.

Getting back on socials evokes this sensation in fragments. Snapshots of outings, carousels of vacations, POVs as signs of life. This isn't including whatever the algorithm is trying to sell me, peddling my innermost thoughts like a mirror. I feel uneasy if I scroll too long, and lately the amount to scroll to uneasiness grows shorter.

I used to feel snubbed, persistently, at the FOMO this elicits. I trudge through the cards I was dealt, making sense of circumstance and making little changes towards a life of less adversity, and still I feel like I'm owed an oasis, promised after suffering. That's just generational American entitlement, I find, and I had succumbed. Like... is this going to be my life, then, suffer until the prodigal "golden years" where I get to do the things I want to do right now?

"Right now" is grasping at the sand in silty water, making shapes out of something temporal that I can keep in my room.

"Right now" is the sponsored ad that insists on a genuine arrival to my feed.

"Right now" is my right leg bouncing anxiously as I write this sentence.

"Right now" is the grey hair I found that runs from my scalp to my lower back.

"Right now" is remembering that the people I love are aging, too.

I have joked before that at the end of the day, I want disposable income to have fun with my friends³. That's the closest to a "career goal" I've ever enunciated. All of my labor and wages point towards curating a beautiful home to feel at home in, one I can resign into after a hard day, one that I can host friends for a movie night or out-of-town lodging. This is what gets me past any inkling of "I can't do this" or "how will I know this master's degree will lead to a job I won't dread?" It'll be worth it in the end.

I'm writing this to remember as I go back to studying. Grad school takes up so much time now, but the time will pass anyways. I'll be able to make time again soon.

#musing