A Tumble, A Timeout, and a Lesson in Less

I remember watching a Batman movie and hearing Alfred say something that stuck with me. It wasn’t even a good Batman movie—if I recall correctly, it was the 1997 offering, Batman & Robin. The film itself doesn’t matter, but the words did. I remember them as: “A gentleman never discusses his health or finances.”

I’m almost certain this wasn’t an original Alfred-ism but rather a phrase with Edwardian roots. Still, it resonated with me, and over the years, it became something of a guideline—not with close friends or family, but in everyday interactions. When asked how I’m doing, I am always excellent, and I never casually discuss financial struggles.

But this time, I’ve been on a health related journey, one worth sharing, and perhaps one worth reading about.

I had been undergoing physiotherapy on my leg for just over a month. My right thigh had a muscle issue that was causing knee pain. Then, one Sunday, I was feeling quite well—so much so that I finally tackled some chores I’d been putting off for a while. As you can imagine, I was in an exceptional mood about my recovery. A mood that was, unfortunately, short-lived.

As I stood at the top of the stairs, my seemingly “fixed” knee failed in its kneely duties. I slid down the stairs, collided with the wall at the bottom, crashed against the rail post, and finally landed—ironically—back on my failed leg. The term calamity feels appropriate.

Since then, I’ve been in a state of recovery. I spent six hours in the hospital’s A&E, only to learn that my leg wasn’t broken—but I had torn whatever it is that makes an ankle do ankle things and given my knee enough of a whack to make it balloon like a potato.

The hospital also ignored my shoulder, clearly recognizing my undeniable manliness and assuming I could simply power through the pain (that’s a lie—they said it was badly bruised and didn’t need treatment. But I know it’s really because of my manly beard!)

In the couple of weeks since my high-speed descent into danger, I’ve experienced some unexpected side effects. Navigating stairs with my problematic limb has been a challenge, and I’ve had to regularly elevate it to reduce swelling. This has unexpectedly left me feeling somewhat… less than.

I’m so used to simply getting on with everything that needs to be done in my life. But having to take an enforced time-out—unable to keep up with chores, walk my dog, or fully focus on my writing—has put me in a pretty shitty mood.

I realized during my first foray into voice chat with a friend—the day after my injury—that I was irritable, short-tempered, and taking quite literally everything as a direct assault. Thankfully, I had enough self-awareness to give myself a week-long time-out. Even after that, I remained cautious about my mood before returning to regular nattering.

So, I took a week off. Not from work—let’s not get confused here. A dude still has bills to pay. I took a week off the internet. For the first time in, quite possibly, my entire adult life. I stopped short of turning off the WiFi, but I closed Discord, stopped checking emails, ignored YouTube, turned off notifications and avoided all news feeds. Instead, I sat, played chess on my iPad, and watched Vampire Diaries (which is a masterpiece, no matter what anyone says! A masterpiece, I tell you!)

In the evenings, I listened to music on my DAP (a Surfans F28), read books, studied scripture, and had some early nights—while doing my best to ignore the pain in my ankle and knee. (I didn’t even think about the shoulder, of course, because of my aforementioned manliness.)

I was still mad at myself for the fall and frustrated that I couldn’t keep up with chores. I know this might sound odd, but I genuinely like doing tasks. I find housework meditative, and walking the dog, playing with the dog—being obsessedwith the dog—is a genuine source of joy in my life. It was hard to do that with constant ankle pain.

But here’s the thing—I found new joy, unexpected joy, in stepping away from the internet in such an intentional way. I’m not someone with a doom-scrolling or social media habit. In fact, I think I have a far healthier relationship with the internet than most people I know. But still, stepping away was wonderful. There was a calm to it, a sense of freedom.

I still used Netflix, Chess.com, and, occasionally, Clip Studio Paint (which I think was using an internet connection sometimes—though I have no idea how that actually works, I just know I like to draw things). But these connections demanded very little from me—cognitively or socially—and it felt great.

Focusing on scripture without notifications distracting me allowed me to engage with the passages more clearly than before. Drawing became more zen-like, and writing—when my throbbing foot allowed—held me in a deeper trance than usual. And, just to hammer this point home, I never even look at notifications. I just clear them and get on with my day… but the total absence of them was noticeable.

This got me thinking—if I, someone who doesn’t have a toxic relationship with the internet, found solace in stepping away from notifications, news, chat apps, and YouTube… then what about the people who do have a bad relationship with it?

I half wish I could just pull the plug for the doom-scrollers and TikTok-obsessed masses. Imagine how freeing it would be to get all that time back. I don’t even think I procrastinate as much as most people I know, but somehow, I felt like I had hours back each day—just from being intentional about my internet use.

My leg is on the mend now, and I’ve started reintroducing things. I’ve slowly returned to voice chats and begun saying good morning in my Discord group. But I’ve also kept notifications off, set my email to “on demand,” and removed a lot of apps from my iPad and phone. Going forward, I think I’ll be using less of the internet, not more. And if I were offline for a long time, I think I’d be just fine—maybe even, possibly, a little better in some ways.

I’d definitely miss the connections I’ve made with people, but I wouldn’t miss all the culture, content, or crap I left behind. Maybe I secretly strive to be a Luddite, or maybe I’m just getting old. Who knows? But one thing’s for sure—I’m a grumpy bastard when I’m in pain.

hmmmm link between dandelion-utilitarian dot come and dot net seems to have broken. Can’t actually remember how that works. i think...

hmmmm link between dandelion-utilitarian dot come and dot net seems to have broken. Can’t actually remember how that works. i think friend Wing did something to fix it but honestly, don’t recall. Though, I’m getting on so well with micro blog, I may just switch the whole site over to it.

I think I’m warming to StageManager on MacOS, I’m going to give it another spin in iPadOS, see if I can embrace that life. 😄

I think I’m warming to StageManager on MacOS, I’m going to give it another spin in iPadOS, see if I can embrace that life. 😄

I think I'm back 😁

I Had an excellent evening of writing. It’s been about a week since I have managed to gather the focus required but I am starting to feel more like myself and generally returning to my usual Zen-like state. I will likely feel more equipped to return to usual activities in a few days.

Also, drafted a blog about health, moods, and personal goals. I’ll proofread it tomorrow and post it. If I think its worthwhile once I go through it again

Dog Nappies, now with a pocket for smokes! #art (?)

Dog Nappies, now with a pocket for smokes! #art (?)

Apparently I have done 1000 chess puzzles… you would think I would be better at them by now. www.chess.com/awards/da…

Apparently I have done 1000 chess puzzles… you would think I would be better at them by now. www.chess.com/awards/da…

Just watched “The Gorge”. Really liked it. Best Diablo movie ever. It knew what it was and embraced it. Only have nice things to say....

Just watched “The Gorge”. Really liked it. Best Diablo movie ever. It knew what it was and embraced it. Only have nice things to say.

Fiction post: The Ghost.

The ghost sat alone in his chair as it slowly spun in the ambient draft of the cold office. He was contemplating the wasted hours spent playing video games, making videos, and trying to build a community. The ghost was alone because the body he had once been attached to was currently out in the world. He didn’t care where—it could have been anywhere, really. The ghost gave no thought to where the body had gone, only that it was absent.

The ghost dragged the mouse around the desk like a caveman dragging a rock along the wall of a cave to make rudimentary artistic etchings. The ghost had far less lofty goals; he simply scrolled through Reddit for a bit and then checked in on some of the more problematic social networks. After a while, feeling ghastly, the ghost decided to check the comments on his ghost-ship of a YouTube channel. The ghost still cared about the channel—the remnants of things that could have been. He reflected on the fact that he had once been a quadruple-Z-list internet person of interest. He wanted to feel good about that, to reclaim some of the faded glory and paint it onto his ghostly form in hopes of using it to become a body of his own—maybe even become somebody.

The body, blissfully unaware of the ghost, came home and sat down in the chair. To the ghost’s surprise, they did not merge into one entity as they usually did.

The body made himself a cup of coffee. The ghost hated that—he preferred tea. The annoyingly content meat sack then opened the computer and started tapping away at some writing he had been working on. After a few hours and another cup of coffee, the body, fatigued but satisfied, put his feet on the desk.

The ghost was thrilled; this was usually where he was needed. The melancholy of the room usually soaked in once the creative urge subsided. Being a persistent ghost, he began pulling memories from the “good old days” and dropping them into the body, hoping to steer things in the usual direction.

The task appeared to be complete when the body made a harrumph sound and waved the cloud of images away with a hand, as if dismissing a bad smell.

“This is it! This is where I get back in the driver’s seat,” the ghost boomed excitedly.

To his shock, the body had not slipped on the cliff-top of memories. It had not allowed the dirty wine of nostalgia to shove him off the ledge into the water and rocks below, as had happened so many times before.

Instead, the body simply pulled out his iPad and drew—badly—for a while. While drawing, he watched some TV and thought about how rewarding his terrible drawing felt. He had a pipe dream of one day being good enough to make a comic based on a story he had once written. He knew it was unlikely he would ever develop the skill or find the time, but, to the ghost’s dismay, there was no darkness at the edges of this vignette of a thought. The body was cheerful about having a goal, no matter how lofty and unattainable it seemed. He didn’t even mind that he had lost more time than he had intended and now needed to go to bed.

“Aha!” the ghost exclaimed, readying himself to siege the body’s dreams. This was where the melancholic dose of nostalgic poison would make the middling times pop like ’90s cartoons, and the sadness of unrewarding endeavours would feel like missed opportunities. The ghost sharpened his stick and sat next to the body in wait.

Dismay became almost a solid form when the body played with his dog for a quarter of an hour, then read a leather-bound book for a bit.

“Okay, I can wait!” seethed the spiteful ghost.

The body lay down, and the ghost looked over, stick at the ready. He lunged into the body and stabbed wildly, dropping nostalgic memories like napalm in the movies. He stabbed so hard that the stick broke. This didn’t stop him. He used the two halves of the stick like drumsticks and played a solo as if he were Neil Peart on stage, live in Tokyo!

The body snored happily. The dog farted and pulled the blanket over himself.

Maybe the ghost would like having a dog’s body… No, never mind, he got bit.

Morning came, and the body told the dog about his dreams of the good times. He then told the dog that the so-called “good times” were probably part of an ongoing depression—his dad’s ill health, his failed marriage, and his lack of direction in life.

“What changed?” the dog asked.

“Don’t even pretend you care—you’re a dog. Let’s go find you some breakfast,” the body said as the two of them raced down the stairs in search of better things, oblivious to the ghost.

That evening, the ghost again sat in wait. This time, the body had no plans and sat in the office chair as he often did. He worked on his writing and drank coffee, again to the ghost’s dismay.

This time, though, the ghost managed to push an idea into the body—just one little morsel of an idea, but it was something. The body stopped in its tracks, contentment evaporating like steam from a kettle. The ghost felt himself settling in again and embraced both the body and the sense of relief.

He was quite surprised, though, when the body moved without his consent. The memories began to backwash and infect him, like a dry sponge dropped into a bath.

“Oh, matey!” the ghost screamed as he was consumed for a time in the bubbles.

The memories that seeped into him were alien and disjointed. First came the memory of the hours spent making YouTube videos. The body, unlike the ghost, did not prefix the word “wasted” to the memory. The body was grateful for the time spent learning things and articulating thoughts. He knew that experience had built both his dedication to projects and his critical thinking skills.

The next memory was of building a community around the videos. Where the ghost had repeatedly said “trying to build,” the body was satisfied that he had connected people who otherwise would not have met. He had given a safe haven to long-forgotten servers and kept friendships alive. There had never been an explosion of bad feelings or missed chances. The body simply saw the community as something that had enhanced his life when he had needed not to feel so alone.

Then the body reflected back at the ghost the previous night’s drum-beating and nostalgia-stabbing, but without the framing of loss. The body had altered the memories, stripping away the sepia fade and the scented candles of overthinking. The body showed him the memories again—years spent tinkering with computers for the simple joy of it, years of playing video games as a way to pass time, and the strange desire to “be someone” through these endeavours.

The tinkering had not been wasted time but a source of joy. The decades of games were now looked back on with love, even if they could have been spent differently. And the body no longer saw the desire to “be someone” as failed—it was simply amusing. The body did not want to be anyone other than himself, for an audience of one.

The ghost sat stunned and frozen. All his hard work, all his rage, hate, desire, and lust had diffused—without the body even knowing how hard he had worked.

Then the ghost realised something that terrified him.

The final brick in the wall of his cold, cavern-like prison among the body’s distant, useless memories…

The body was happy now.

The body didn’t need the things the ghost had once offered.

And worst of all… the body didn’t believe in ghosts.

Even Batman needs lunch

Even Batman needs lunch

Chess. I forgot about it.

When I was a kid, chess appeared to be a game of magic. The mere concept of it captivated me. However, I must admit that this fascination was partly because of my limited exposure to the game, as I had primarily learned about chess through cartoon magicians, old fantasy movies, and this one artefact in my home.

The artefact in question was a small table, far too short to be useful. It was crafted from dark brown wood and had ornate, wavey legs. The top was so shiny that it resembled glass to me—it was a glossy, polished wooden chessboard. I distinctly remember that it lifted up to reveal a green felt lining that held the delicate chess pieces safe.

I have since been assured by my mother that the chess table was an ugly old thing with a loose leg and plastic chess pieces. It wasn’t highly polished at all; it was just slightly shiny because it was plastic on the top.

My dad taught me the basics of the game, although I don’t recall him ever having any interest in it. From what I understand, the table was more of a common early eighties home decoration than a sign of enthusiasm for the game. I had a feeling it was more often used to hold wine glasses it was than used to play on.

I have no idea what happened to that old table. It might be somewhere in the spider-infested loft of my home, but I’m not brave enough to embark on that quest.

I owe that table a lot because it was the catalyst for a promise I made to myself, a promise to learn chess someday. This idea has been lingering in my mind for quite some time now. According to chess.com, I created my account over seven years ago. I believe that it was the last time I reminisced about that table, and my dad trying to teach me how to play.

Over the past year or so, I’ve been playing video games less and less. This has left my mind craving something to occupy a small part of it that demands diversion. I have been writing more, learning to draw and even playing retro video games from my childhood casually, but none of this quite satisfied my craving. Then, a few weeks ago, I stumbled upon a chess video on YouTube by sheer chance. One video led to two and two videos led to five hours of chess lessons in the Doctor Wolf Chess tutor app. In these few weeks, I’ve learned more about chess than I ever have, in my entire life, until now.

I have spent time doing puzzles, lessons and games on chess.com and lichess.org and even purchased a cheap physical board to attempt to tempt my daughter into playing with me. I have been watching the currently happening freestyle chess grand slam, video tutorials and reading books on the topic. I’m having an amazing time with something I’ve been certain I would enjoy since childhood, but somehow, before now, I never quite made time for it.

I wonder how many of you reading have things like this in your lives—things you always thought you’d make time for but haven’t done yet. My advice to you is to give it a try. Make time for a new hobby or interest. Years ago, I could have been enjoying chess if I had just made some time for something I was interested in, instead of watching Netflix and playing video games that I can’t even remember the names of now.

Feel like it maybe time to change some things.

Feel like it maybe time to change some things.

made a video… oddly youtu.be/Vn3KXGy3p…

made a video… oddly youtu.be/Vn3KXGy3p…

The Valsalva manoeuvre is far less exotic than the Picard manoeuvre, but likely more applicable to situations which most people encounter.

The Valsalva manoeuvre is far less exotic than the Picard manoeuvre, but likely more applicable to situations which most people encounter.

LumaFusion and the Power of the Cross-Platform App

LumaFusion is a video editing application, and in my experience, it’s pretty good. But what really blows me away is that it’s an example of a truly platform-agnostic app—at least within the Apple ecosystem.

I purchased it on my iPad (a 13 inch M2 iPad Air) for around £30. My main use case is editing short animation clips and using a proper video editor to manage transitions and link them together. While I’m very familiar with Kdenlive, I wanted something I could use on my iPad.

For my needs, LumaFusion is ideal. But what really impressed me wasn’t just the application itself—it was how seamlessly it adapts across different Apple devices.

It was originally designed as an iPad app, and it takes full advantage of the hardware. But it also works flawlessly on macOS, with full support for keyboard shortcuts, mouse interaction, and fullscreen mode.

I was also surprised to find that I could install it on my iPhone. While I doubt I’ll ever use it much on such a small screen, it’s nice to have the option.

This kind of cross-device compatibility feels unique to the Apple ecosystem. While I would never have switched to Apple just for these little perks, I have to admit—it’s really nice to have apps that don’t feel compromised on any platform. I doubt we’ll ever see a Windows application that installs on a phone as seamlessly as this.

It all feels like magic.

The Creative Gym (Learning art with no natural aptitude)

Humans make things. Whether this creative urge is unique to us or a common trait among all species that reach our level of social and technological development remains a mystery. It is also worth noting that the creative urge does not exist in all members of our species. Many people are perfectly content watching Netflix and eating cereal out of a box. Strangely, there has never been societal pressure to be creative. There is pressure to get a job and pay bills, get an education, and shower from time to time. But failing to find motivation to create does not cause any social issues at all.

Most of my friends create things. I know artists, coders, tinkerers, and writers. Most people in my life are working on a “project” or some other general creative task. I enjoy getting updates on their creations, even when I don’t entirely follow what they’re working on. There is something absolutely wonderful about listening to someone talk about what they are making. There’s an intimate passion that oozes from them when they speak of their “work.”

I have never thought of myself as creative—which is strange, considering my major pastime is writing fiction. I have published books, novellas, blogs, and even videos, and I have been doing so for years. I love storytelling. Writing has been the best way for me to do it.

And yet, oddly, I still do not consider myself creative.

This isn’t a self-esteem issue. I am proud of my writing. I’m happy to discuss my work with people. Genuinely, I think I’m a good storyteller. My prose may need tightening, sure, but the only way to improve is to keep writing—and I do.

I recently spoke in a post about learning to draw and how I was using the Niceferatu comic I post here as a platform for this endeavor. I have to admit, the postings of the comic have slowed recently. This isn’t because I have lost interest in the story or project. It’s because I realised that my art skills were not good enough to do justice to the story I wanted to tell.

While Niceferatu was supposed to be a platform for learning, it quickly became a platform for storytelling—one that my artwork was not yet good enough for. I even considered writing Niceferatu as a script or novella. Ultimately, though, the point of the character is to help me learn art.

So, to the gym I have gone.

There were a few things I had to remind myself of before I started, including, considering why I wanted to learn to draw.

I love writing. It is my main creative pastime. The only major downside to writing is that it takes a great deal of time to produce a finished work. I’m not naïve about this—I know full well that many people work on drawings for months. But I want to create basic art for a comic. I’m not trying to make high art or draft my visual opus.

I have watched hours of videos on composition, basic line art, and color theory. While I’m pretty sure some things I have drawn are “okay,” I have yet to create something that makes me happy. Progress is minor, slow, and very linear. But progress has been made. Sometimes, when I learn a new way of thinking about composition, it takes me a few attempts to work it into my flow—and often, I feel like I’ve taken a step backward.

I have come to think of this as a workout—a drawing workout. In fact, when I began to think of my art journey as a gym or a training regimen, I started aligning my expectations to a much longer timeline. In turn, my patience with myself has increased.

As I said earlier, despite writing a lot and telling many stories in the process, I don’t think of myself as creative. I think this is largely because my expectations of what it means to be creative are not reasonable.

I understand the process of writing well enough to recognize it as hard work—day after day, a consistent drive toward a goal. I don’t automatically consider this creative because I am distracted by the process and rarely reflect on the product.

With drawing, I have a different problem. I have always associated “being creative” or “artistic” with natural talent, but I am now at the point where I recognise talent as the end result of hard work. Maybe, one day, I will consider myself creative. But not until I finish my time at the gym of practice.

I wonder how many other people feel this way.

People need to stop saying ‘game changer’ its got to the point of meaningless

People need to stop saying ‘game changer’ its got to the point of meaningless

The rise of ai tools is going to seriously effect profit’s for services like grammar and language tool soon. As of yet though, there is no...

The rise of ai tools is going to seriously effect profit’s for services like grammar and language tool soon. As of yet though, there is no good language tool alternative for my phone. It’s going to be interesting to see how it unfolds, because, LLMs are far more effective spell checkers than anything else I have used. I just wish we didn’t have all the other baggage that went with them.

No, your iPad is not getting MacOS. Stop asking

This is going to be a short post as I have already touched on this topic a while ago. Recently there has been an increase in iPad related talk on the internet, mostly on Apple forums, news sites and reddit. On sentiment I see time after time in the comments is stupid.

“The iPad is held back by iPadOS. We need MacOS on the iPad.”

Is my future offline?

As I’m sure many of you have noticed, I have recently been on something of a cleanse. Ejecting things from my life which I feel are no longer relevant. Trying my best to live intentionally and considering what adds value to my life, and what are things which I use as crouches for someone I used to be. Towards the end of this year, I am hoping to be in a financial position where I can buy a camper van and have little weekend excursions with my dog. I one day hope to retire into a mobile home of some kind and visit Europe, assuming there is a way to have my dog come with me, that is.

This pipe-dream about a small space, mobile future has been leaking into the decisions I make day to day. While I am a fair way away from having to think about the practical things, I have something of a clear thought pattern. I have likely mentioned it here before:

If something won’t work as part of my van life, it’s going to have to go eventually, so why bring it into life, or keep it in my life now?

This gets condensed into far fewer words, the following is the more common: “Good for van?”

This idea about spending the next year(s) preparing for the future I want has been really good for me. It has created some complications, some clarity and some questions. I have enjoyed purging things from my physical space, reducing my power consumption on a day to day basis, and it has even resulted in me having something of a capsule wardrobe selection.

A side effect of this has been that I have been preoccupied with the internet, as a source of interaction. When I get to go on those road trips I am pretty sure I can power my laptop and iPad without any issues, but, whats the point in having a powered up laptop is there is nothing to use it for? 

A down side of spending time in a an is the excellent change of being without internet access. This isn’t something which worries me, but it is something I think about.

My writing won’t be effected as Scrivener is an entirely offline application. I have local backups of a lot of video media and my kindle contains my entire digital book library (I download everything I buy.) My Miyoo Mini has many retro games I can play, and I have my theology books in print. And, for those very odd occasions that access to an LLM would be useful, I have offline options for that too.

I recently purchased a Digital Audio Player (DAP (an MP3 player)) and filled it with songs which can’t be taken away from me by a timed out connection. I have to write an entire post about that, at some point, as I think, it is quite an interesting topic. (It’s a Surfans F28.)

All in all without constant internet access, I’ll be fine. I have enough squirrelled away for basically any road trip I could find myself on. 

This got me to thinking though. I am confident that I don’t ‘need’ the internet for anything major, but I have never considered turning off my WiFi. 

The reason for this, is in part, because my preparation for some time offline is rooted in some real goals. I don’t want to have to consider internet when I am out adventuring in a van, but I do want to read things, watch things and play things. I am not prepping for an imagined scenario or end of the world event. 

However… When I think about my offline time, it does not fill me with dread. It used to. A few years ago the idea of being offline would make me twitch. During lockdown, the internet was a lifeline, but now, I am not sure I wouldn’t miss it the way I once would have done.

I still want to talk to my friends, I would still need to get my Kindle online every so often to get new books. Sooner or later the backed up media I have would go stale. But, an intermittent connection would likely not worry me too much. I could stay in touch with my friends via Email (I already communicate regularly with one friend via email.)

But still, I never turn off my WiFi.

With this in mind, I have considered that perhaps I will spend one day a week without internet. on Thursdays I make a point of not socialising online, I jokingly refer to it as ‘my day off.’ 

I have a plan, that on Thursdays, going forward, I will turn off my internet connection. Save for two short burst. I will check my bank and email when I wake up, and around nine in the evening I will check email again. This time, in total will be less than fifteen minutes and it should stop me from having any anxiety that life has exploded and no one told me. 

This will also mirror the intermittent connection which I am planning for one day ‘copping with.’ I don’t know if this will be a long term experiment or if I will extend it to more days as time goes on, but I sincerely like the idea of having ‘time off’ from the constant stream of data coming.

The very fact that I even feel this digital fatigue is a little telling to me. I don’t regularly look at any social media and I only check news feeds in the early afternoon. I am always connected but I don’t feel that I am ‘terminally online’ in any way. 

Maybe the simplifying I have been doing has wormed it’s way into my subconscious and this seems like the next thing to do. 

I’ll up date you in a few weeks. I have a feeling that this is going to be interesting. 

NewsExplorer seems pretty good so far. RSS win. I guess.

NewsExplorer seems pretty good so far. RSS win. I guess.

Today have learned that my RSS reader (Reeder+) doesn’t have an export. Oddly this made me want to leave, so i installed NewsExplorer....

Today have learned that my RSS reader (Reeder+) doesn’t have an export. Oddly this made me want to leave, so i installed NewsExplorer. Seems pretty good so far.

Digital Minimalism?

I have spent some time reading the Cal newport book ‘Digital Minimalism.’ I’m not that far in, but I picked it up because I was feeling a ‘thing,’ the book, so far, has made me double feel that ‘thing.’ I need to write a full post about the ‘thing.’

The ‘thing,’ if anyone is wondering, is the realisation that I am unhappy with the amount of time I spend attached to the internet, and to my screens. I don’t even think I spend that much time on here compared to most people. I read a while back that the average screen time per day is about 6 hours. Which seems mad to me. My average is about 2 hours, and that feels excessive!

My laptop probably gets more, but that’s when I’m writing. I enjoy writing and don’t really think of it as screen time, despite it literally being that. I think of it as keyboard time.

the paradoxical thing is that I have been reading the digital minimalism book on a Kindle, which is a screen. - I suppose wen I tlak about ‘screen,’ I actually mean ‘internet’

Few days into DAP life now. I love having a music player which doesn’t expect more from me than to hit the play button.

Few days into DAP life now. I love having a music player which doesn’t expect more from me than to hit the play button.

Do you ever make a purchase and then think “that was dumb, I should not have done that” ?

Do you ever make a purchase and then think “that was dumb, I should not have done that” ?

My wisdom tooth is uncomfortable this morning.

My wisdom tooth is uncomfortable this morning.