A job to do…

I’ve figured out I’ve got a funny relationship with deadlines. I hate and need them. When they are approaching I get tense and panicky then flow into a zen like procrastination of cleaning the kitchen and perfecting sandwichcraft, before beating the crap out of myself to achieve whatever it is I’ve said I’ll get done. It’s not too healthy, but it’s worked pretty good so far; I have very rarely missed a deadline and recently I’ve been completist on a few personal projects like nanowrimo and fawm, I even managed to finish my 52 week rejection thing, but maybe it’s time for a silent revolution, maybe I need to break free of those self oppressive shackle, destroy my work ethic and just let it flow. Write as and when I feel like it, flunk my course and miss every funding bid I put in for. Maybe I’ll start sending applications to jobs that have already closed and booking tickets for gigs that have already played, I could see jimi on the isle of wight or vote in a few elections with full knowledge of the result and the futility of my delayed contribution. But, sadly my brain ain’t wired that way, and though I do a pretty good impression of not caring and acting relaxed, but my personal treadmill keeps me sane and without these bouts of sturm and drang, I’d have trouble getting out of bed in the morning…mind you, there’s always the other side. When all is done, or on the breaks in-between, when nothing much is going on, I get a chance to look out of my little struggles and realise how lucky I am to be alive.


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