Made a to-do list just to ignore it.

There’s something magical about making a to-do list. That moment when you write down all your tasks, colour-coded, categorised, maybe even highlighted, you genuinely feel like you’ve got your life sorted. For a brief window of time, you believe that future-you is going to be the most productive, well-balanced, unstoppable version of yourself.

That’s exactly what I thought on a Sunday evening.

I sat down with my journal, grabbed my favourite pen (yes, the one that makes my handwriting look like my actual handwriting), and wrote down everything I had to get done that week. Return the books i borrowed from a friend. Submit the French assignment. Organise my notes for the upcoming exam. Clean my wardrobe. Get my Aadhaar card photocopied. Mail something for my grandfather. Oh, and finally call the plumber about that weird dripping sound. A perfect mix of student chaos and adulting nightmares.

I even added cute checkboxes next to each task. And at the top, I wrote in bold: “This Week is Mine.”

As you guesses, it was, in fact, not mine.

Because on Monday morning, everything that wasn’t on that list decided to come charging into my life. A surprise internal test got announced (surprise, as in we found out one day before). A group project I’d mentally filed away as “next week’s problem” suddenly became this week’s panic. A last-minute seminar popped up that we were told was “mandatory.” And then, the cherry on top. I caught a cold and lost two entire days to sneezing, half-napping, and just lying around like a washed-up sock.

Midweek, I tried to rally. I opened the list again and told myself I could catch up if I just focused. So, I made myself a cup of coffee, played some music because ambience fixes everything, right? I even set a 30-minute timer. But ten minutes in, my friend called me to rant about something dramatic, and obviously, I couldn’t say no. That 30-minute focus session turned into a 90-minute therapy call followed by a scroll down meme lane. By the end of it, I just shut my notebook and gave myself the classic excuse: “Tomorrow I’ll be serious.”

The to-do list? Untouched.

I’d glance at it from across the room and feel personally attacked. Each little checkbox stared at me like, “So? What now?” Meanwhile, my French assignment sat open in one tab, blinking cursor mocking me, while I Googled things like “how to complete 1200 words in 30 minutes.”

By Friday, the list was basically a relic. Not because I didn’t care, but because life kept tossing new tasks at me like I was in a game of dodgeball and losing badly. The photocopying? Didn’t happen. Cleaning the wardrobe? Not even close. The plumber? I forgot his number again.

On Saturday night, I opened my journal, looked at that beautiful list, and instead of crying or tearing it up, I added a new item at the bottom: “Make a better list next week (and actually do it).” Checked that one off immediately. Felt like growth.

What I learnt: Making a to-do list doesn’t guarantee a productive week. Life is unpredictable, plans get shuffled, and sometimes even the best lists fall apart. But that doesn’t make them useless. They’re reminders, not rulers. And sometimes, surviving the week is the biggest box you check.


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

When I tried to be the 'Put-together friend' for a week (I actually became her)

We all have that one friend who always seems to have it together, their outfits are coordinated, their files are colour-coded, they show up five minutes early and actually reply to texts. One day, I woke up and decided: I want to be that friend. It wasn’t out of jealousy. It was more like curiosity. I wanted to know what it felt like to walk into a room without frantically untangling earphones or pretending I didn’t forget my water bottle. What would it be like to arrive prepared, to be the friend people call for help, not the one they’re constantly reminding? So I made a decision: for the next seven days, I’d be organised, emotionally available, mentally prepared, and aesthetically present. I would be the dependable one. The “Wow, she’s glowing” one. Day one was promising. I actually packed my bag the night before. I wore clean clothes (yes, the ironed kind), left home on time, and carried an extra pen which my friend immediately borrowed and called me an “angel”. I was smug for the n...
Read more

The time I thought I'd get fit and ended up working out in my pyjamas

 I’ve always liked working out. Back in college, I was the person who genuinely enjoyed the post-exercise burn, swore by stretches, and believed a good playlist could turn a walk into a therapy session. But somewhere between the lockdowns, online classes, and turning into a full-time homebody during COVID, my fitness routine slipped into a coma. But this year, I decided it was time to bounce back. A new, upgraded version of me was going to rise- one that meal prepped, ran marathons (or at least jogged), and owned more workout gear than excuses. I wanted to feel energised again. That glow people talk about? I wanted it back. So my first step was to start jogging. But in true dramatic fashion, I didn’t just take a casual walk in the neighbourhood. I bought an expensive monthly pass to a local jogging park. The logic? “If I pay a bomb for it, I’ll obviously go.” I’d read somewhere that spending on fitness makes you more committed. Whoever wrote that clearly didn’t know me. I went thre...
Read more

Maintaining post-college friendships that felt one-sided.

After college ended, I told myself I wouldn’t let go of the friendships I’d built. I was determined to keep in touch, to be the kind of friend who remembers, who stays in people’s lives even when life starts moving fast in different directions. So, I kept reaching out. A random meme to make them smile. A voice note after spotting something that reminded me of a college memory. A “let’s catch up soon?” message every couple of weeks. It wasn’t just habit, I genuinely wanted to stay connected. But slowly, I started to notice a pattern. I was always the one texting first. Always the one nudging, checking in, making plans. It didn’t hit me all at once but one day, while scrolling through our chat history, I realised that every single conversation began with me. So, I decided to do a small experiment: I’d stop texting first. Not in a petty way, not to test anyone just to see what happened if I paused. If I didn’t put in the effort for once, would anyone else? The first couple of days felt we...
Read more