January 9th, 2015

I woke up this morning at 8:34 to the face of my brother Zach telling me that it was time to have breakfast. So we, including Jonte, had breakfast. She made truffle scrambled eggs and put them on top of some toast. I don’t usually eat breakfast, so I appreciated the gesture. Thank you.

This past week, I have gotten into a rhythm of waking up late (i.e. burning my morning), filming from noon until dinner, and then going to Bucer’s, a coffeeshop, for internet. Before going back home for Christmas break, I decided to commit to the lifestyle of purpose-driven spaces. So, I programmed my computer to be incapable of accessing the internet at home. If I need to check emails or post a blog, like this, I just go to school or come here. It has really changed the way I think.

Let me just say that I am pro-technology and on a scale from Amish to Steve Jobs, I veer towards Steve Jobs (although I have always admired asceticism). I want new technologies to be an everyday part of my life as long as it is benefiting my life in some way. More technology is not an end, of course, it’s just a means. And there are other means towards the end of living happily.

Generally, I don’t believe in “open concept” anything. I don’t know what is so good about a concept being open. I prefer my concepts to be crystal-clear and purposeful. Here, I’m really just playing with words, which is ambiguous anyways–and completely not what I am saying. I actually very much enjoy concepts when they drip into each other or flow steadily on like a river, maybe just to the end of enjoying the sound of my own voice. Anyways.

Hey, as you can tell by now, I am pretty laid-back with this whole journal thing. It kind of feels more like a blog, doesn’t it? Not so serious, right? Hey, watch this, it’s totally against my natural inclinations: WORDS!!!!!!!! BLACH BLECH!! eprijgerjgorjgerogjrpke


I’m going to keep that. It hurts me. But it has to be done.

I completely forgot what I was talking about. When I am talking about my day or myself, I am very tempted every moment to take a step back and either analyze, criticize, or size-up what I am saying as I am saying it. And not only do I think that is the result of me being part of a generally cynical generation, I also think it is the result of me thinking that talking about talking is always more interesting than the talking itself. Does that make sense?

I met someone for coffee yesterday, for example, and we burned out of what we were going to talk about in ten minutes. So I asked him about how he approaches conversations usually, specifically one-on-one conversations, and if he enjoys them over group interactions. He said, “I don’t really approach them in any way.”

As for me, I vastly prefer one-on-one, because I vastly prefer a conversation over an interaction. A conversation is actually difficult to do well, but is fruitful when it is done well. A group interaction? I don’t care about ever doing them well. Give me one month and I will split that group into it’s individuals and we can call it good.

I find it interesting how differently people can present themselves. In a group–and this all depends on what sort of group it is–but in a group, I tend to present myself as quiet and shy and uninterested in talking. And for various reasons, I earned the reputation of being stoic in junior high and high school. I don’t subscribe to stoic philosophy really (by which I mean, I don’t agree with the stereotypes I have of it in my head), but I suppose I do sometimes seem uninterested or quiet. I don’t know. I’ll leave the analysis of myself up to people that want to care.

I will admit that my interests, although they are fueled by a general interest in everything, are very limited. There are very specific things that I want to build and very specific things I want to do with my life and even though some interest or conversation might seem disparate from those ends, they always funnel back in somehow. Does that make me a sociopath?

So my home is as purpose-driven as I can pretend it is. In my head, I want my home to be a haven for reading and writing. I set up my desk in a way that is conducive to writing. I have a writing rock–I figure that with any creative activity, there needs to be some artifact to look to. If I am ever sitting at my desk and lose my way, all I have to do is look at the rock. And there is also an egg-timer on my desk. I look to that when I write this journal, which is a thirty minute journal, which means that I write it in thirty minutes.

I find it funny how in my own conception, I would instinctively scoff at someone who posts a lot of facebook statuses on what they are doing during the day and I would say, “Pfft, they think their life needs to be publicized.” But if I heard that someone was starting a daily journal on a blog, I would think, “Good for them! That’s a great idea!” I think the thing that needs to change is not my praise for a daily journal, but my distaste for someone that posts “too much.” What does that even mean? How can you post “too much?” How can you post beyond the bounds of the people reading care? If the people are reading, then they care. If they don’t care, they won’t read. Besides, you wouldn’t know they posted so much, if you weren’t on facebook so much. The first place to start with cynicism is always yourself. Notice how I started this paragraph with cynicism of myself. See? We can work in a little forethought in thirty minutes.

I don’t think that is just my tendency; I think a lot of people scoff at the idea of over-sharing or living our lives publicly through technology. Why is that such a problem? Why are we the judges? Personally, I find what my friend from middle school (who I haven’t talked to in eight years) is eating for breakfast fascinating and I find it even more fascinating that they would think to tell me and four hundred other people.

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