The weight of expectation is crushing. Yet nobody is saying a word. I’m not hearing voices, nor can I feel the penetrative gaze of a thousand beady eyes, all fixated on my very being; anticipating something magical and wondrous to emerge from these hesitant fingers.
But it’s there.
I stare at the screen, and while I know what to write, I can’t seem engage my brain efficiently enough to produce the right words. At least hieroglyphics made sense to somebody; this stuff? You’d need an Einstein wrapped up in an enigma, slathered with a healthy dose of ‘aha’ to work this shit out.
I keep going.
Prod, prod, prod; the sound of a confused finger or three striking my keyboard.
The shapes keep appearing.
Left to right, they march on; snaking their way across the virtual canvas until the laws of physics (virtualics??) deem it necessary to begin a new line. Maybe this time will be different? It probably won’t be. A procrastinator cannot blame his tools – which is a shame. If an inanimate object refuses to be a conduit for abuse, then what’s the point?
Alas, I continue.
Prod, prod; there’s less typing now.
Perhaps the last trickle of creative juice has finally escaped – and with this unsatisfactory conclusion of osmotic inevitabilities, I am forced to write really long words to make up for how stupid I feel.
Or am I being too hard on myself?
The absurdity of the self-imposed deadline
November the 18th – 11:59am.
This is the only date that matters. So why am I having a mini meltdown at 1am (whilst sitting in my underpants) a good two weeks earlier, just because, and I kid you not, I have arbitrarily decided tonight is the night when I must finish my assignment.
Don’t get me wrong. Handing in an assignment two weeks before the official deadline might come across as a highly efficient piece of coursework ninjary – which it is. Thank you. So why am I getting my short and curlies in a bigger twist over the inability to get it done before bedtime?
It doesn’t matter. November the 18th.
That matters. Not now. I couldn’t give a shit about now. The university doesn’t give a shit about now. They only care about November the frigging 18th.
It’s unfathomable. I’m unfathomable. My logic is unfathomable.
Yet, here I am. While the rest of the world is safely tucked up in bed – I’m on the verge of inducing a coronary because I’m incapable of meeting this self-imposed deadline.
You’re probably wondering why I’m getting stressed out. This is because you’re a normal, functioning member of society. I’m a bit weird. I’m the kind of person who wins arguments with sound logic and modest brilliance. I like planning ahead, writing schedules, pretending to be organised and cleverable.
I even make up cool words. I think that’s three so far in this article. I can’t be sure. Can someone please verify?
As a result; I tend to have so-called bright ideas. Working like a maniac to get this assignment out of the way early was one of these. I’d like to think you agree with me, when I say it’s a pretty good idea, right?
It was all going so well. I usually leave assignments until the last minute. Some people may believe this to be the act of a masochist who gets a little too excited by the adrenaline rush of the ticking clock. Whatever it is, or was, it’s now in the past. This is a new me – someone who gets shit done.
No it’s not. I’m a liar.
I almost get shit done, but when everything is going well, I get stressed out because I’ve chosen a ludicrous deadline, and to meet this new deadline – I have to sit there in my underpants for 8 hours without having a heart attack in the process.
The idiot’s guide to stress
You’ll be pleased to know I eventually succumbed to the sleep monster and allowed myself another day to complete, and hand in the assignment – which I did.
Yet it’s only now, over three weeks later, that I’m starting to learn the error of my ways.
I haven’t published an article on this website for about a month. I think this is the longest gap between articles in my internet writing history. This isn’t due to laziness, lack of interest, or even because I’ve had such a fun an exciting month.
No partying around these parts.
It’s just been crazy – but not the good kind.
As I’m struggling to stay afloat in this sea of guitar students, assignments (3 of them) and other bits and pieces; my flailing limbs have worn me out to the point of mental and physical exhaustion. I’m eating, sleeping and working – without much of the sleeping.
Error – system malfunction.
Several times over the last few weeks I’ve sat down to write a new article – just in my underpants, obviously, but nothing seems to happen. Maybe I should try changing them… I don’t know. Does this work? If someone could let me know, that would be fantastic.
Believe it or not – and why would you? I pretty much finished an article yesterday.
This wasn’t it. I’m writing this one on the fly – making it up as I go along without an edit in sight. The other article was meticulously planned and researched. Full of useful information and the usual rambling nonsensical musings you’ve come to expect/ignore. So where is it?
I threw it away. Why?
It’s about time I get to the point…
The important bit (finally)
I only wrote it so I could have something to publish.
Not posting for a month gave me a severe case of the Hobnobs. Maybe I was afraid everyone would forget about me, unsubscribe, or cheat on me with another, sexier blog. I tried to rush out a piece of substandard work for no other reason than to post something, anything.
I set myself an arbitrary deadline and as is often the case with these things, it fuels insecurity, stress and God-awful articles.
The assignment I finished two weeks before the deadline… I scored 91. Go me, right? Well the only reason I didn’t receive 100% was due to the kind of simple errors only an idiot would make if they were, oh I don’t know, trying to rush something for absolutely no reason.
So there we go.
I’m not going to publish an article for the sake of it.
I’m done with setting myself arbitrary deadlines devoid of logic or reason.
I’m going to chill out and have a nap because, and I want you all to pay attention here…
It really doesn’t matter.
So, when was the last time you were too hard on yourself?
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