Time Fear

During a bit of recent self-reflection, I concluded that I have spent my adult life suffering from a condition I like to call Time Fear.

Because of this, I have become a multitasker par excellence. At this moment, I am both writing this post and watching the tellybox. I have paused writing twice already, once to take a photo and once to write an email about another topic entirely, because even my thinking is going along two paths at once.

Such is my dedication to the art of doing-as-much-as-I-can-at-the-same-time that I have cunningly set up a mirror next to my desk so I can touch type while I watch the latest episode of Lost.

Time Fear, you see, is typified by a constant panic that I am wasting time, which in turn means wasting life, which I believe to be the worst of all cardinal sins. I dislike going to bed if I haven't achieved anything during the day, whether that be writing, reading, learning, experiencing or something else I deem 'worthwhile'.

I feel edgy if I'm not doing something constructive and find it very difficult to relax with a good TV show or movie, because I can't help thinking I could be doing something more useful.

(Cue gratuitous barely linked PS artwork shot, just because I want to.)

It all goes back to my formative years, as these things tend to do. Whenever I announced exam results to DaddyC, his response would be the same: "That's great, but what's next?"

Of course, none of this dual attention-giving means I get things done any faster, it just means I don't enjoy the relaxing side of life as much as I'd like. So bugger it, I'm going to take a full two hours off tonight, force myself onto the sorely underused sofa and watch the Lost finale, overexcited fingers be damned.

(But only if I've written another 1000 words of my book by then.)