Once an intermit feeling, now the default human setting - a self-induced side-effect of our glorious progress - Hurry steals the present and deforms humanity.
Hurry lives Life like a dog gulping down the morsel of pork you toss its way, no chewing or savoring..."Slow the hell down, Fido! There's actual flavor there!" Hurry lives in the future, a space to which you never arrive. It transforms fellow auto commuters into archenemies. It takes our hands out of our food in exchange for drive-by window transactions. It diminishes human interactions to "getting to the point" rather than connection opportunities. It means waking up to the screaming sound of an alarm and not the orange glow of a rising sun. It means multitasking, or in other words, doing everything half-assed. Hurry punches out letters and emojis with one hand while steering the car with the other. It erupts at the barista when she fails to have your mobile order brewed and pimped on the store counter when you walk in. Hurry works in the Prozac Sales Department. It forces you to squeeze in a WORKout in the place of active play. Hurry makes time your master.
Why are we in such a damn hurry?
Perhaps we mistake the human purpose as an engine of production. We turned human beings into human factories, basing value on quotas and output. Home Depot reveals our hand: "How Doers get more done!" One of the greatest boons of our animal achievement, our capacity to fabricate tools, has become a bane of existence - the tools we make have remade us. We worship production. Our calendars burst at the seams because we know the measuring stick, and so we have to hurry...
Ah shit, gotta go!
"Doing nothing with friends is never doing nothing".
- Charlie Mackesy
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