It’s an absolute mess out there, isn’t it? Our calendars look like a games of Tetris, and if you dare suggest you had a gloriously unproductive Sunday, you’re treated like a social pariah.
Ergo, let’s chat about the unbearable weight of being busy.
As I get older (and my social battery more frequently hits zero), the whole concept of planning ahead feels like it’s a bit of a sick joke. I’m someone who lives my life by my calendar - it’s my to-do list, my morning reading and in a weird way feels like my friend. But I cba with it atm because it’s turned into a weird form of performance art. The public reply of, ‘So sorry, I’m rammed until next month' isn’t a show of demand, it’s a little, tiny cry for validation (I’m cool, doing cool things with cool people). Basically the millennial version of having a flash car.
We’ve forgotten the simple, transformative power of a soft pause.
I’m talking about the deliberate, unapologetic act of doing absolutely nothing that can be quantified in anything other than ‘vibes’. Not meditation (which, somehow, we accidentally turned into an aggressive productivity hack), but true, glorious chilling. Staring out of a window, bingeing an entire series in a day, playing Tetris on your phone rather than with your calendar.
When I think of people truly admire (my mates with the most fun ideas and the clearest, most articulate vision), they’re not really bragging about 18-hour days, but they are consistently, fiercely protecting their empty space.
My new luxury isn’t a £17 coffee or £125 candle - it’s the odd week of plan-less evenings. And honestly, it’s proving far more productive than being ‘booked and busy’ ever was.