As Grain Rain Passes
There was a time this January when I truly had nothing to do at the office. Days when I'd cried so much I had no tears left. When there was nothing to do but sit there, my only escape was my bullet journal. I kept jotting things down in the bullet journal I got from Aladin, and eventually created a 24 solar terms energy graph. After writing explanations for all 24 solar terms, I decided to record my energy levels for each term throughout the year by marking dots. Yesterday was Grain Rain. Grain Rain is the eighth solar term. So, you could say it marks the point where one-third of the year has passed. These days, I don't have the luxury of escaping to my bullet journal at work. There are things I must do, and a few things I want to do. I propose things I want to try and actually do them. It's also interesting to build products while discussing with the senior colleague next to me. My team leader juggles multiple roles simultaneously and doesn't have much time to spare for me, but even so, he makes an effort to look out for me. Yet, whenever laughter echoes from beyond the partition, I get goosebumps and shove my AirPods into my ears. It's somehow sad that someone's laughter can be the source of my greatest distress. That the laughter emanating from the place where I spend over half my day triggers my greatest torment, yet I still find good things within it and carry on living—it feels like a contradiction, or perhaps just an unavoidable part of being an adult. Yesterday, there was a session at the center to share the revised mid-to-long-term goals. Seeing the projects included in the strategic goals left a bitter taste. It made me feel conflicted, thinking that being excluded from that project was what started all this. Yet, part of me also felt relieved. Would it really be good to take on such a crucial project for the center's future direction? Would it be good for my career? Probably. Isn't it better to work on important things than unimportant ones? My thoughts keep circling back and forth like this. But then again, taking on such a crucial role means no vacation time, and as the project scales up, difficulties will surely arise. I guess that's how it goes. I don't know. Still, even now, a year later, it feels unfair. Not because I lacked the skills to be included, but because I was pushed aside without even getting the chance to try. That sense of injustice lingers, and hearing those laughter sounds from beyond the partition still gives me chills. Gogu is the season when sprouts emerge, bathed in the moist spring rain. Commuting by bike these days makes me think this might be the most beautiful season of the year. My eyes are drawn to the scenery filled with that pale green color, visible only at this exact time. Even the sense of injustice I feel sitting at my desk, for no particular reason, seems to fade a little when I see the pale green trees. There's nothing more I can do at work now. I can't go back to that project anyway. Honestly, I don't even feel like trying anymore. It's just frustrating that I never even got the chance. If it's frustrating, then let me feel that frustration fully. If I hear that creepy laughter, I won't worry about others noticing—I'll just leave the area or shove my AirPods into my ears. Maybe I should buy earplugs like my sister said. And keep preparing to spot new opportunities outside. After all, it doesn't seem like the day will come anytime soon when those laughter sounds won't bother me. Still, on the 24 solar terms energy graph, Grain Rain hit this year's peak. I just wish I could maintain this level for three months. Not overly excited, not overly depressed—just the perfect energy level. Acknowledge the pain when it's painful, and cry with all your might. Gaze freely at the fresh green, enjoy watching baseball, write diligently, and take it easy at work. Doing your absolute best will kill you. This level of energy is just right.