deadlines-in-life

[deadlines-in-life]

Deadlines.

Purpose, the things that make life worth living, or so I’ve heard. From youth I’ve listened to people pose the question, “What do you want to be?” I never have an answer. The question has become an incessant ear worm, tormenting me wherever I go. As children, our duties are limited to watching television or making friends to go on play dates with. After becoming a young adult the biggest problems in life are being popular or taking Stacy to prom. Once we’ve finally overcome the unpleasant hill that is puberty, you learn that nothing that mattered really matters. The perfect mental condition in which to dive headfirst into university, where you’re taught how to pretend to be an adult. Four to six years later, when you’ve reached the top of the food chain, you may find yourself at the bottom of the barrel once again. Sitting in a brightly lit cubicle doing a nine to five job you didn’t really want, but it lets me have warm showers and makes my parents proud. What is the purpose of choosing to struggle through this shitty process, money, recognition, maybe happiness? Happiness. That could just be the key to finding my purpose, otherwise how could my classmates, teachers, and parents prattle on for so long about it, it must mean something. What does it mean to be happy though? I was always told to do whatever makes me happy, but truth be told, I couldn’t care less. I’ve never been “happy” and life has been swell, twenty-eight years later I’m still alive, even without a purpose. Maybe happiness doesn’t exist, I mean it's just a word, a label for something that no one has been able to explain to me. What a worthless obsession, honestly it’s just something people use to justify their stupidity, like religion but worse. 

That's why I live my life around deadlines. It’s the only reliable thing that seems to make time move forward. The one thing that allows us to be in control of our own meaningless and mundane lives. No human can predict the future, but a person with a deadline can create a future. Ever since I can remember, I lived religiously for my deadlines. Dedicated to experiencing that momentary euphoria of completing a project on time. It is truly an inexplicable sensation. When time slows down to a snails crawl and you feel your issues wash away. I’ve tried explaining this to a few people, but no one ever gets it. They ask me, “is this really what you want in life”, or “are you truly satisfied with just this?” I wonder, where else you would seek satisfaction but from finishing a gruesome deadline. After you’ve poured your heart and soul into a project, after dozens of coffees and hours of fatigue, only to feel it dissipate in a single moment. It gives me goosebumps just thinking about it.

https://www.16personalities.com/free-personality-test

https://www.myersbriggs.org/my-mbti-personality-type/take-the-mbti-instrument/home.htm?bhcp=1

The pursuit of happiness.

This is so stupid, happiness is plaguing my life again. I have a deadline tomorrow, but I just got off the phone with my co-worker and she told me my work doesn’t feel genuine. What in the world does she mean, it’s a goddamn news article, why does that need to feel genuine? Facts are facts, I just need to report them, who cares if some people are offended by reality, that would be illogical. I’ll talk to her about it tomorrow, she better not screw up my deadline.

Great, now I’m being sent sensitivity training by HR, all I did was call her a bitch when she called my writing miserable and obnoxious. She did that on purpose too, now they’re using her piece instead of mine. HR said I needed to lighten up and be happier. I’ll fucking show them happiness, my next story will be on the front page swear to god. 

That sensitivity training was a joke, all I had to do was spout some nonsense my teachers used to tell me. Is happiness that fickle and fake, I told the therapist some shit about aspirations and goals and now i’m “happy” and fit for work.

I can’t think straight, my legs are restless and I’ve written nothing since sitting in front of my laptop. Perhaps I need a change of environment, I’ll give the new cafe down the street a try. How ironic, of all things to assign me for this week's publication, it had to be “the pursuit of happiness.” Why am I so stuck though, I just have to do what I always do, make up some crap that panders to the audience. Where can I find inspiration?

My dog always seems so happy, I wonder what it is that can excite him so. Food, walks? Hmm, maybe I can write about exercise, or veganism. “A healthy lifestyle is what brings happiness, remember to walk at least ten kilometers a day and maintain a diverse diet!” Perfect. Why does it feel so lacking… 

Shit, my deadline is approaching but I don’t want to submit this piece.

*Why?*

I can’t miss out on two deadlines in a row, I need this job.

*How come?*

Just send it in damn it.

*What's the point?*

If I don’t, they’ll use something from that bitch again.

*Does it matter?*

Does any of this matter?

I couldn’t do it in the end, but I still don’t know why. Could it be the sensitivity training? No way, I learnt nothing over there. It's possible I may be sick, that would explain why I haven’t had an appetite for a while. Yet, it doesn’t feel like it, It felt like my writing was missing something. It's probably just because I’m tired, I’ll go visit the doctor tomorrow.

Two weeks notice.

Have you ever felt your whole world crash in an instant? Well, I came back from the doctors and it turns out I was sick, I’m terminally ill and was told I had two weeks to live. How did I never notice my health declining, but more importantly, what kind of deadline is given with only two weeks notice, it's unfair. What now?

The doctor told me there was nothing anyone could do, he told me to just try and make the most of these last two weeks, be happy. What would normal people do with this information. Party, take drugs, travel, maybe visit their family and friends. Do those things make people happy? That just sounds like a chore. I don’t really want to do anything, I don’t want to move. I think I’ll just go back to work. 

Is this how I pictured my final hours, it’s not like I imagined I’d have children and grandchildren around me in my final moments lying in a well lit a hospital room. The reaper will have to settle for this harshly lit office cubicle instead. I don’t feel frustrated or angry, so why does this feel again, so lacking. I feel discontent about something, what could it be. Fuck.

I was just told to pack up my things and leave, I’ve been fired. Apparently an anonymous complaint was filed which claimed inappropriate behaviour towards my co-workers, probably that bitch again. Screw it, what does it matter, I’ll be gone soon enough anyways.

The past week has been a blur, and it feels weird to be one week closer to death despite not feeling any pain. I can appreciate a painless death though, never did like pain. I cry too easily whenever I’m hurt, it’s quite embarrassing. I remember when I was younger, my mother would sing to me whenever I was hurt, and then the pain would disappear. It was a similar feeling to the stress of a deadline washing away after completion. Wait, why am I crying, have the pains finally set in?

I’ve come to really like this new coffee shop, It's quite fun to spend my days just sitting at the front of the shop where I can watch people go about their lives through this massive window. It’s made me realise how many sensations I will never feel though. Couples walking hand in hand, parents guiding their children along with their gelato from the store next door. I am familiar with the hustle and bustle of rush hour though. Watching people run late for work, or bumping into one another while focusing on their phones, and I see at least five people spill their coffee everyday.

Is this envy? I don’t know, but I’ve never felt such a strong desire to be one of those people rushing to work. I mean they have their whole lives ahead to experience things I never will, even the prostitute that comes out on the street corner at night has had sex and I haven’t.

Wait, I’m not ready, this isn’t what I wanted. There are still so many things I need to do before I go. Please, I haven’t even felt happiness yet. This deadline isn’t fair.

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt2582846/