Someone once told me that hating deadlines is universal. I politely agreed, not wanting to let go of my secret that I love deadlines. I love working under pressure. And overall, the more stressed I am, the better I perform, and the more I’ll complain about life, which for whatever reason, makes me feel ecstatic. Bearing in mind, I’ve done my research, I’ve looked up every Buzzfeed article as to why stress is actually a good thing. 

I have also looked up actual research, from psychological and biological journals, which admittedly, had a lot more numbers and a lot more technical vocabulary that I had to inscribe in order to fully understand, but they all basically said the same thing – that certain amount of stress is actually good for us. 

Now, that’s all lovely. But all throughout my academic and non-academic research, I couldn’t help but notice that their ascribed level of stress always seemed to come up short in my personal preference. Writing 4,000 quality words in 2 hours? Yes. Please. I’ll do it. I might fail doing it, but my failure will be better than everyone else’s under the same conditions. That might be a little arrogant, but there is an unstoppable force with me and deadlines and I am convinced it’s unlike anyone I have ever met (so far). 

I’m going to go back to job-hunting. The more deadlines I see for jobs, the more excited I get. Now, job hunting deadlines are truly a terrible cycle, because the end result can be so disheartening, especially when you find that one job that gives you butterflies in your stomach because it’s simply not possibly that a job could possibly be designed for you, with exactly you and more in mind, and then they reject you. 

Statistically, it’s near impossible for me to find a job given simply my age and the outlook of the job market, but that excitement is hard to give up. I say job, but I feel what I really mean is a career making adventure. Mobility theories for the modern age clearly state that we are no longer in the business to sticking to the one job throughout our lives. We’ll quit, get fired and start anew many times, but the traditionalist in me can’t help but thing there’s this one perfect fit for me out there, somewhere, and it’ll let me experience I’ve ever wanted from a career. I’m sure the odds are against me, and maybe I will see myself be proof of these mobility theories, but for now, I’ve got to find a job that will make me feel like a 16 year old girl with a crush on a member of a boy band. 


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