Teachers and former teachers often joke about how students will do anything to inflate their word counts. They add unnecessary adjectives, adverbs, prepositions; the textual analogues of “um’s” and “ah’s.” Occasionally they quote extensively from an encyclopedia or the Bible to avoid thinking up their own text. Or if the requirement is a certain page count, they will add extra spacing and increase the font size until their papers resemble clown shoes—giving the appearance of prodigious size and volume, but with little of real substance inside.

I had similar temptations when I was in school, even if I wasn’t one of the worst offenders. I told myself that I did it out of a desire for concision and efficiency, not laziness or lack of inspiration. Why waste graphite and ink or cause hand cramps unless absolutely necessary?

Now, nearly two decades later, I have the opposite problem. I sit down at my computer and begin typing a short 300-500 word meditation. Shortly after I begin, I remember something that happened to me a decade ago that I have to mention. Then I recall a line from a book or a quote that fits the topic. I add it with relish, but then I have to pad the essay with a few more paragraphs to lead into it and then transition away from it. Several weeks later, the piece has turned into a 2000+ word essay with no end in sight. My writing has morphed over the years from tight and focused to expansive and rambling. I used to hit my target with a single precise shot, now I carpet bomb the entire area.

The rest of my life has undergone the same change. When before I had to look for things to do, my calendar is now filled with so many overlapping events that the blank space is hard to see. I previously had few personal projects, now I have so many that they begin jostling with each other to get to the head of the queue.

What’s the best response? Should I see this as the natural progression from youth to middle age and accept that I’ll teeter on the brink of overwhelm for the next decade or so? Or should I fight back against the desires that slowly fill my life until it becomes unmanageable?

The correct choice is obvious in the abstract, but painfully difficult in reality. A common quote in writing is that when editing we should be willing to “kill our darlings.” The same idea applies if we want to keep our lives under control. If I can’t do everything, that means I must cut something. What goal or desire must be sacrificed on the altar of rest?

When a currency experiences inflation, the value of each unit of money falls. In other words, inflation devalues currency. The same thing can happen to our time, the currency of our lives. The difference is that while governments can print more dollars to make up for the devaluing of our currency, we can’t print more minutes. Life inflation packs every moment full of activity, but we can never manufacture more time to make up for the lower value of each individual moment.

We can accept inflation as the natural course of things, or we can make decisions that fight against hectic and exhausting lives. The choice is ours.

I was trying to keep this essay under 500 words, but it ended up with around 600. I’m not sure if this supports my thesis or destroys my credibility. You decide.