Extra time doesn’t guarantee what gets done will be made any better than it is now.
What it can provide is a sense of relief, that the deadline isn’t here to stop anything just yet. Tomorrow is another day, and the next week will be another week.
There will always be more time ahead, just until there isn’t.
And that’s when the myth of extra time comes back to bite.
When we realize that there’s no better time to do the things you care about (because you care about them), suddenly time becomes a necessity we can’t get enough of.
Seen by everybody, or seen by people who actually care?
Do vanity metrics hold any weight when only a fraction of those people matter?
Everybody wants to stand out, make stuff they like, and have it be accepted by others. That’s a lot to ask for.
Everybody wants to stand out, but in the chase of that we can lose sight of what we originally placed our bets on, which is: if I make this, then I can contribute to more of the thing I want to see in this world.
When we’re overwhelmed by choice, it gets hard to face a blank page. There’s so much to say, so much to do, and we’re limited by our means (like our two hands and time).
One way around having nothing to make is to create limits, like saying, “I have to make.”
I have to make a jingle about Thai food and Toronto.
I have to paint a painting that captures my feelings about my childhood.
I have to write a chapter about how to make a good cup of coffee.
Going forward with definition helps, especially when the blank page is present.