My Life in Color-Coded Rectangles

I don’t remember exactly when it happened, but at some point, Google Calendar went from being a casual tool to the backbone of my existence. What started as a way to remember deadlines and meetings quickly became a full-blown digital diary—except instead of personal reflections and messy handwriting, it’s color-coded blocks of chaos.

My Google Calendar holds the receipts for every phase I’ve ever gone through. The three-week Pilates obsession? Documented. The brief but passionate attempt to become a morning person? Tragically recorded in 6:30 AM alarms that never saw the light of day. The time I decided I was a networking queen and booked back-to-back coffee chats? My social battery has never recovered.

It’s not just about productivity; it’s about identity. Looking at my past schedules is like scrolling through a scrapbook of questionable decisions and fleeting passions. That 30-minute block labeled “Focused Work” was probably me watching TikToks. The recurring “Call Mom” event reminds me that without technology, I might actually forget to be a decent daughter. And let’s not forget the phantom events—things I was supposed to do but mysteriously disappeared when the time came (I’m looking at you, “Go for a Run”).

This screenshot gives me chills, btw...

But for all its evidence of my failed attempts at self-improvement, my Google Calendar also tells a bigger story: the story of someone who is trying. Trying to be productive, trying to keep in touch with people, trying to squeeze every last drop out of life (even if that means over-scheduling myself into oblivion). It’s a reflection of who I am in the most honest way possible—messy, ambitious, occasionally delusional, but always hopeful.

And let’s be honest, there’s something comforting about seeing my entire life mapped out in neat little rectangles. It makes me feel like I have things under control—even when I absolutely do not. There’s an undeniable thrill in blocking out an hour for “Self Care” when deep down I know that means eating snacks in bed while watching Netflix.

Plus, my Google Calendar has become my personal historian. Without it, I’d have no memory of when I last got my haircut, physical at the doctor, or when I last pretended I was the kind of person who meal preps. It remembers everything, from the momentous (job interviews, flights, doctor’s appointments) to the absurd (the one time I scheduled a nap because I genuinely forgot how to relax).

At this point, I’m convinced my Google Calendar knows me better than I know myself. It sees my aspirations before I even admit them out loud. It watches my delusions of perfection unfold in real time. It gently reminds me (with an aggressively urgent notification every 30 minutes before) that I need to leave for an appointment I scheduled three months ago and already forgot about.

So while some people keep journals and others rely on their memories, I have my Google Calendar. It may not capture my deepest thoughts, but it does capture the rhythm of my life—what I cared about, what I chased after, and how I spent my days. And when I look back, I don’t just see obligations and to-do lists. I see proof that I showed up. That I tried. That I lived. (Cue “this is me trying” by Taylor Swift.)