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Ugochi Guchy Kalu (she/her/hers), Low Entropy Volunteer Writer

It is funny how easily life can turn into a series of checkpoints. As if we are all following some invisible to-do list, ticking off accomplishments that push us closer to some undefined “better.” A better job, a better home, a better version of ourselves. I used to believe that was the secret to happiness—always moving forward, always striving for the next thing.

During my undergraduate studies, I was so focused on achieving academic excellence that I missed out on becoming a well-rounded human. I completely ignored social development, networking and people skills, as I felt they were distractions from the perfect academic records I was anticipating. I would often decline invitations to birthday parties, hangouts, newcomers’ night and celebrations of any sort. I never knew that I earned the nickname “Triangle Student,” as my locations were from my hostel to the classroom, to the library and back to the hostel. 

In those academic years, I would enroll in various skills trainings and internships. I was so worried about the future and the labour market that I thought denying myself of living in the present would make me employable immediately after graduation. I graduated and got my first job quickly, and so did my classmates. 

However, I struggled with basic human connections. I was always lost in office small talk and my colleagues would snub me, as I lacked collaboration and people skills. All the training I acquired prior was not truly relevant, as I was provided skills training as part of my onboarding. I began to feel very ordinary, as the joy I was hoping to get as the most qualified/most skilled fresh graduate slowly disappeared. 

That moment when I realized I was not feeling the joy I had anticipated stayed with me. It was not just about the need to stand out, it was about how I had been living, or rather, not living. In my constant drive toward the future, I had neglected to appreciate the present.

It is not that ambition is bad—dreaming about the future is a beautiful thing. It is what pushes us to grow, to try harder, to become better. But there is a difference between being inspired by the future and being consumed by it. When the “what’s next?” becomes louder than the “what’s now?” we lose something precious.

I started to notice how often I postponed joy. “I’ll celebrate once this project wraps up.” “Things will be easier after I finish this professional course.” Meanwhile, the little joys of daily life—laughing with friends, a quiet cup of coffee in the morning or the satisfaction of finishing a good movie—slipped by unnoticed.

Even worse, I realized how much time I spent worrying. What if I made a mistake? What if my plans did not work out? I thought that by obsessing over these questions, I was preparing myself for the worst. But all I was really doing was stealing happiness from the moment.

One day, I found myself sitting on a park bench, completely by accident. I had taken a walk from my new job to clear my head, my thoughts spinning in a hundred directions. I was contemplating an innovative project, still consumed with over-preparation for the future, when I sat down and just . . . stopped. The sun was setting, painting the sky in colors so vivid they looked unreal. A cool breeze brushed past, and for the first time in what felt like weeks, I exhaled.

That moment did not solve all my problems, but it did something better—it reminded me of what I had been missing. I sat there and thought about how many sunsets I had ignored because I was too busy looking at a screen. How many moments of laughter I had cut short because I was too preoccupied with a checklist. And how many milestones I had downplayed because I was already chasing the next one.

From that day on, I tried to do things differently. Not perfectly, but intentionally. I started keeping a small notebook, jotting down three things I was grateful for at the end of each day. Sometimes they were big things—a kind word from a colleague or a breakthrough on a project. 

And most importantly, I tried to worry less. Not because there were not things to worry about, there always are, but because I finally understood that worrying does not change the future—it only makes the present harder to enjoy.

Looking back, I realize that life is less about reaching a destination and more about the moments we collect along the way. The laughter, the quiet mornings, the sunsets on a park bench—these are the things that make life rich and meaningful. The future is important, but it is only part of the story.

Today, I still set goals and dream big, but I try not to lose sight of where I am now. Because when we take a moment to stop and truly see the present, we find that it is full of reasons to be grateful. And that gratitude is what turns ordinary days into extraordinary memories.

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My name is Ugochi Guchy Kalu—in anticipating the future, I forgot the present. But in rediscovering the present, I found the joy I had been chasing all along.