There are like 5 people in this world who really care about whether I am writing or not and if I am not then when would I next write. In reply, I tell them, there is only one combination of things that makes me write, sadness plus free time and in the last many months I have not had either. There are two reasons for that:
- I found Mr. C. He keeps me happy and far away from sadness.
- I joined a lab as a PhD student and all hell broke loose. Never did I realize it could be this hard, crazy, challenging, demanding to be a graduate student (I had several warnings I agree, but as it’s said you never believe until you see for yourself).
Therefore, what did my life turn into? Waking up going to lab, going to classes, working, studying, tests and quizzes every Monday, writing papers, writing abstracts, more and more and more data analysis, data presentations and to close the deal altogether with crying. Everybody told me it’s hard being a graduate student and guess what, I think it’s harder!
In between everything, I turned 25!
That’s a big deal! Traditionally it’s a quarter of a life and dreadfully I am just 5 years away from the big 3 OH!
Guess what I did to celebrate my oncoming quarter life crisis, I jumped off a perfectly good plane from 18000 feet.
I always told everyone that I wanted to sky dive, that I wanted to see how earth looked from up above and feel like what flying feels like but right at the moment where I was crouching in front of an open airplane door with a stranger strapped to my back, looking down to nothing but white fluffy clouds, I realized this might be the best or the worst mistake in my life. And then, I jumped.
What followed felt like dying, going to heaven and coming back to life. Initially just a whirlwind fall where I passed out for 3 seconds and came back to senses , opened my eyes, saw that I was still falling, going through clouds and rushing towards small brown squares of lands with small green spots, then opened my arms and felt like I was riding air and finally the parachute opened. That jerk over there brought me back to senses and switched my conscious brain back on. Finally I was aware of what was happening, and that I did it, I dived from a plane into nothing and my parachute worked, so I was going to live. That was when I opened my mouth to speak and told a complete stranger that I loved my parents, sister, grandma and Mr. C. and if the same Mr. C. had not jumped out of the same plane before me, I would never have been able to experience those last 2 and a half most surreal minutes of my life. In my defense, I was high then. It was the adrenaline rush going down.
Sky diving is the best mistake I have ever made and may be turning 25 would be the second best. And, now I know, I don’t always need sadness plus free time to write, I need to experience life to write about it!
Until next time,