Deadlines

I'm still swamped. Literally. I'm waist-deep in papers—though I'm usually seated on the floor when I sort through them—but well, you get the point. The hell weeks of college life are upon us once more, and the only thing I can do is to blog about it.

Actually, I meant to write this post weeks ago, at the onset of this semester's hell month. But it ended up being crammed, much like my academic work. I've gone through about two weeks of hell, and now I'm one week shy of being able to sleep normally again. I have one case study and three final exams left before I can close my eyes at night and not think of what I'll have to get done by tomorrow.

Of course, with tons of requirements come—well yes, great responsibility—as well several bottles of Red Bull, cups of coffee, and piles of junk food. But the word I was looking for before I got distracted was actually deadlines.

I hate deadlines. No actually I love them. (I'm clearly disoriented from lack of sleep and I can't decide where this blog is really going.) Well, it's a love-hate relationship I guess. I hate them because each deadline means more work and more internal panic attacks. At the same time I love them because they give me something to work for, a definite point in time when the effort (or lack thereof) put into a particular task will have to end. And of course I love being productive. Nevermind the fact that I haven't quite learned how.

So the thing is this: I love deadlines because I love productivity. But I hate them because I find that I'm never ready when they roll around.

I love Dali.

I know, it's my fault for being such a procrastinator. I wait around. A lot. That's why I've been dubbed as tambay idol (I have a seven-hour record as of yesterday). When I recall how I've been spending time recently, I imagine my days as a time-lapse video. There's me, sitting somewhere—in our ComSci tamabayan, or some place to eat, or some coffee shop—while everyone around me goes through life in full speed. I, on the other hand, am seemingly stuck in a time zone entirely of my own creation. I'm always moving too slow, waiting for something even I can't identify.

In case you weren't able to follow my pseudo-insightful mode, I'd just like to clarify that I've gone beyond academic work here. My personal life time management skill sucks just as much as its academic counterpart.

All my life I always end up trying to beat the deadlines. I got into a college course, and shifted to another one after two years—I waited one year too long. I often pile up a lot of transgressions against my girlfriend and I wait until she's tired and frustrated before I start trying to shape up. These were the times I got lucky, when I made it, even if it was just in the nick of time.

Other times, I haven't been so fortunate. I've shut people out until they're gone completely. Until they've left, until we've lost all contact. I didn't know there was even a deadline in the first place and I missed it.

So I promise myself to watch out for deadlines, and even prevent them, as in the case of my relationships. I may be a master crammer, but sometimes there's just too much at risk. The most important things in our lives shouldn't have to wait until the last minute.