An empty calendar

Since I started working as a developer, I’ve always had the same problem: I have a terrible allergy to events scheduled at a specific time of the day (call them meetings, call them whatever you want).

I’ve always been a bit of a “rebel” in that sense. I still remember how, at one of the first startups I worked for, I would often arrive outside the expected hours because I had spent more time at home reading or doing other things than I was “allowed” to. That’s why they introduced a new policy requiring all employees to start work before a certain time.

As they announced it, looking around at everyone, I knew deep down that it was really about me. And I think this has always been the case, even since I was a kid.

I never liked being forced to do anything. I never liked anyone telling me what to do with my time. What if I don’t feel like eating on a Saturday at 3 p.m.? What if I don’t want to meet up with you at 4 p.m. on Sunday for any reason—or no reason at all?

I’ve always been very jealous of my time. I’ve always wanted all the time in the world for myself. And I want to be the one who decides who I give it to and who I don’t. It’s a selfish act, but I believe that every good thing that happens in life comes from having the time to do what you truly want to do—not what others expect of you.

It’s precisely in that time you don’t give away to others that the best ideas are born. It’s where a writer faces a blank page and creates an incredible story. It’s where a painter adds the final brushstrokes to what will be considered a masterpiece. Magic happens in the time we choose not to fill with obligations.

As I mentioned before, my life strategy has always been to follow my curiosity and let it guide me. Just as I do with my life, I do with my time. I aspire to have an empty calendar and an empty backlog.

To not know what I’ll do tomorrow and to use the present as my compass. To focus my energy on what truly matters. To seize moments of inspiration and act—rather than waste them doing something I don’t want to do.

Because our existence is finite (and very short), do what makes sense to you, even if no one else understands it. And when you’re tempted to take the easy way out by telling yourself you don’t have time or that your current circumstances don’t allow it, try to find a way. The truth is, you are free to do whatever you want.

As Sheldon B. Kopp put it:

“You are free to do whatever you like. You need only face the consequences.”

And this is precisely what’s so frightening—accepting that this decision might leave you feeling more alone, poorer, or cause you to miss out on opportunities that might have led you to a better place in the future. But we can never truly know if that would have been the case.

So, as Taleb says:

“Missing a train is only painful if you run after it.”

Even though Taleb can be a bit crazy at times, I’m sticking with his team. I’m not going to run after any train. I’m going to follow my curiosity. I’m going to keep my calendar empty. I’m going to clear out my backlog and leave it clean. I’m going to wait for inspiration to come and do with it whatever I please.

I’ll sit and wait for the next train. Or the one after that. Or maybe none at all. Who knows.