Open Tabs

I don’t procrastinate. I mean it. I never put off things related to work or study until tomorrow. What if there’s no tomorrow? Wouldn’t you want to die knowing you have fulfilled your duty and finished your work?

Oh yeah, I am a CAPRICORN. I don’t believe too much in astrology, but I identify myself as a proud Capricorn, but more on that later. 

All my friends procrastinate. They wait till the night before the deadline to finish their essay. They buy plane tickets two days before leaving for a trip. I know I sound judgmental because I am. But somehow they are still ok. They always manage to survive and show me that procrastination gets you anywhere. And I hate that.

Anyway, we are not here today to talk about how I can get things done; I don’t like to brag. I want to talk about the time when I fail to.

My biggest weakness is that I have too many open tabs. And that is seriously slowing me down.

I always keep my two email pages open. Then when I write things, I have a million research source pages open. Then in the middle of writing, I would think of that improve show I want to see, thus a new tab. Better search the meaning of this word, another new tab. Maybe I do procrastinate in this sense.

Here’s the thing, I don’t linger. But I also never close them fast enough, then they just become the open tabs that are slowing me down.

I don’t know what that says about me. Am I easily distracted? Probably most of us are as Gen Z and millennials in this information age. But as someone who wants to spend every minute doing meaningful things, this is killing me. Then I realized, the open tabs represent my love for unfinished things.

In one episode of How I Met Your Mother, Lily is trying to get Robin to delete her ex’s number and she wouldn’t. Then everyone had to find one number in their phone that they think they will call but probably never will like Lily’s karate class and Marshall’s band agent.

The title of that episode is called “Unfinished.”

I also have lots of subscriptions. Subscriptions, the worst invention in human history.

All the subscriptions I have and forget I have. Not only this shows that I’m terrible at managing personal finance, but also I have unfinished things I can’t properly manage.

And the thought of not controlling or managing things is killing me.

I have many interests, or I may just call them things I plan to do later in this life. And at first, I thought I was different. I’m not like these people who start something and never finish until I realize now I have a wetsuit, but I can’t surf, I talked with a drum teacher once, but I’ve never touched drum sticks, I have books that I bought but never even got to the half. 

Interesting enough, like all the open tabs, forget-to-cancel subscriptions, and dead-end interests, I have many unfinished relationships as well. And I hold on to them for the hope that one day things will get exciting again, somehow, thanks to destiny. 

The palpitation that something beautiful is going to happen is so exciting that we hope there’s a way to linger at that moment forever, the exact second you know he’s going to kiss you, the moment taking off wet clothes ready to get into hot shower on a rainy day, or the moment getting into swimsuit before jumping into the pool on a hot summer day, the drive home after a long time away from home, the moment you cut into fresh bread and lift it to your mouth.

The open tabs I don’t close fast enough, the driving coach’s number I keep but never going to dial, the heels I keep in my closet gathering dust, the unfinished relationships, the people I keep in my heart under the illusion that there will be something exciting but probably never will.

Then we suffer the loss of then it never happened, the regretful what if, the blaming on timing and distraction, the urge to kill off the urge to share and open up, just for the palpitation, the expectation that there will be a palpitation.

The open tabs may be my ghosts, slowing me down, haunting me with the ongoing drumrolls building up to a non-existent palpitation. Other times they are like the good ghosts that have been with me, through all this time, like the comfort of knowing there will be a drive home because there will always be home. The ghosts are the candles you lit into long nights after a great dinner too scared to let the spark fizzle out too soon. The ghosts are the consolations getting me to fall asleep knowing I might cut into fresh bread tomorrow when the scary thoughts surface. The ghosts are the late night walks and being held tightly in cold early winter mornings reminding myself that I was warm, I have a warm heart, to palpitate.

Don’t blow out the candles just yet. 

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