Choosing To Get the Education I Deserve

It was one of those weeks where one and one just add up to three.

First, I woke up at 5 AM one morning. Groggy, unable to sleep, I dragged myself to the couch and opened a new fantasy novel. I struggled with a phrase on the first page. Then another on the second. I read and read, and by page 24, I was scratching my head so hard it started hurting: “Is it just me, or is this written so badly, it’s barely comprehensible?”

Between the multi-paragraph sentences, needlessly verbose descriptions, endless adverbs, and backwards unwinding of the action, I gave up on The Atlas Six right then and there. I confirmed with several friends that the writing was indeed atrocious, and after some googling, I found out why: It’s a self-published book that became a bestseller because the 15-year-olds on TikTok are all over it. Now, I’m not too old for a Booktok recommendation, but I am too old to read bad, unedited writing. Aren’t we all?

A few days later, my friend Franz sent me a list of the top 100 literary classics, aggregated across a decade of rankings. “How many have you read?” he asked me. I did a quick count. The answer was five. Ouch! Here I was, a writer with ten years of experience, apparently wasting my time on TikTok drivel, yet having read almost none of the all-time greats of English literature. “What the hell am I doing?” I thought.

In that moment, something clicked — and then so did I. I proceeded to Amazon, loaded my shopping cart like a kid on Christmas with an unlimited budget, and hit “Order.” Over the next week, box after box arrived, and while I watched them pile up, I finished two early birds — Albert Camus’ The Stranger and Ernest Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises. Turning those pages felt like taking a big breath through my nose after stepping outside for the first time in days. “Ahhhh! That’s better.”

I’m currently enjoying J. R. R. Tolkien’s Silmarillion, and while I do feel like my literary train is finally heading in the right direction again, the whole incident made me reflect: How can someone who writes for a living cruise right past the most important works in their industry for a decade?

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There Is Nothing in My Phone That I Want to Look at Anymore

I entered the tram and sat down. I allowed the little paper bag and my umbrella to graze the floor, but barely. You know when you don’t want your stuff to get dirty, but you also don’t want to hold it, and so you sort of just let it dangle with enough support so your hand doesn’t get tired? That’s what I was doing. It was a hot summer day, and I was on the verge of breaking a sweat, but in Munich, you never know.

I took out my phone and tapped in and out of a few apps. My emails. My portfolio. WhatsApp. There was nothing in any of them that I didn’t already know.

I had caught up with my emails a few hours ago. As always, many remained unanswered.

I already knew the markets were flat. How much does any given stock portfolio move in a day anyway? 1%? 2%? 5%? It’s not like I’ll suddenly be able to retire. Why look at it every day to begin with?

WhatsApp has its moments, of course, but to be honest, that, too, can feel like a chore. Like I’m behind on my homework. Especially after a long weekend away. So many good people. So many kind messages to get back to. Just…not now, perhaps?

After a bit of mindless scrolling, the most noticeable aspect of which were the zooming animations as I darted in and out of each app, I found myself staring at my “App Library” screen, which looks innocent enough but shows no less than 46 potential apps I could click on. Then, time stopped for a second. In a moment of profound clarity, a thought crept into my mind:

“There is nothing in my phone that I want to look at anymore.”

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Why I Deleted Most of My Social Media

A few weeks ago, just before Elon bought Twitter and made it look cool, I deleted my Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok accounts. “FITT,” their initials spell, and fitter I feel indeed.

The main idea behind minimalism isn’t to save money or time. It is to save mental energy, which physical items take up, even if they’re sitting quietly in your attic. Somewhere in your subconscious, you know the broken volleyball net is up there. Even if it only makes it to the top of your mind on occasion, you’ll feel a burden being lifted once you chuck it in the trash.

Digital minimalism works the same: You can stop using your social media, but the accounts will still be there. So will all the connections. All the posts you’ve created will still harbor the energy you put into them. The weight of sunk costs will be palpable.

“I wonder what Marcus from my year abroad is doing.” That thought hits different when you can check up on Marcus vs. when you can’t — and the latter is not necessarily a bad thing.

We tend to be kinder to people when we keep them only in our memory. Plus, when you can’t see Marcus’ new house, you won’t feel bad about yourself from the inevitable comparison that follows. When Marcus only visits your attention once a leap year, your natural reaction is to wish him well, then be on your way. For many relationships in our lives, this is the way they’re supposed to go. We’re not wired to maintain distant yet infinite contact with thousands of people.

Manage your social media in a way that prevents them from managing you.

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Sometimes, the Work Is Easier Than the Workaround

When my favorite writer stopped writing, I decided to save all his articles, lest he delete them. I knew I could save them one by one in Evernote, but since he had published over 100 pieces, I thought there might be a way to avoid this tedium.

I asked a developer friend for help, and he referred me to another mutual friend of ours. I messaged that friend on Slack but didn’t get a response. A week later, I emailed him. A few more days went by, but then, he responded.

My friend suggested two scraping tools for the job. I started comparing their features and pricing. As it turned out, one tool would limit exports on a free trial, so I went with the other one. I downloaded it, installed it, and made an account.

The tool was pretty technical, so it took a while to grasp the basics. Eventually, I got it to load my favorite author’s index page, where all his stories were linked. Then, however, the tool required making complex workflows, and to top it all off, it only seemed to export to CSV, not PDF.

At this point, I finally decided the juice was no longer worth the squeeze. I sat down after lunch, sipped some coffee, cranked up the music, and went to work. One by one, I opened each article in a new tab, clicked the Evernote Web Clipper, chose the right output settings, and saved it.

Some pages took forever to load. Chrome groaned under the pressure. Evernote kept changing its settings, so I had to fiddle with them each time. After about an hour, however, I made it. There it was: My favorite author’s entire essay collection, preserved for future readings.

All in all, saving 100+ articles by hand was boring, tedious, and eye-roll inducing. I felt grumpy, annoyed, and frustrated at times. In short, it was exactly what you’d expect it to be. It was also, however, the 100% right thing to do — the shortest path to results, and thus the quickest way to satisfaction.

“Work smarter, not harder!” It’s a piece of advice cited like gospel in meetings, speeches, and job interviews. But how much time do you spend trying to out-smart the work? Isn’t thinking the hardest work of all? Thinking a lot without meaningful breakthroughs — there’s hardly a faster way to exhaustion.

Sometimes, it’s better to admit you’re not that good at it. Sometimes, the work is easier than the workaround.

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How Modern Non-Fiction Books Waste Your Time (and Why You Should Read Them Anyway)

When I first discovered non-fiction books, I thought they were the best thing since sliced bread. Whatever problem you could possibly have, there’s a book out there to help you solve it. I had a lot of challenges at the time, and so I started devouring lots of books.

I read books about money, productivity, and choosing a career. Then, I read books about marketing, creativity, and entrepreneurship. I read and read and read, and, eventually, I realized I had forgotten to implement any of the advice! The only habit I had built was reading, and as wonderful as it was, it left me only with information overwhelm.

After that phase, I flipped to the other, equally extreme end of the spectrum: I read almost no books, got all my insights from summaries, and only tried to learn what I needed to improve a given situation at any time.

So, do self-help books work? As always, the truth lies somewhere in the middle.

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Are You Swimming With or Against the Current of Life?

In his book The Cafe on the Edge of the World, John Strelecky tells the story of a man in a hurry.

The man, a busy professional also named John, is stuck in a massive traffic jam en route to his much needed vacation. When he tries to circumvent the roadblock, he gets lost and, running out of fuel, energy, and growing ever hungrier, turns in to a cafe in the middle of nowhere — The Cafe of Questions.

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30 Lessons Learned in 30 Years of Life

Yesterday, I turned 30. When I was 18, I thought by 30, I’d have it made.

My 20s were a long, slow grind of realizing “made” does not exist. “Made” is past tense — but you’re never done! The only finish line is death, and, thankfully, most of us don’t see it until we’re almost there.

Instead of the binary made/not made distinction, I now see life as round-based. You win some, you lose some, and different rounds have different themes. There’s a carefree-childhood season, a teenager-trying-to-understand-society season, an exuberant-20-something season, and so on.

At 30 years old, I’ve only played a few seasons, but each round feels more interesting than the last. If that trend persists, I can’t imagine what one’s 60s or 90s must be like. By that time, you’ve seen so much — and yet, there’ll always be new things to see.

Most seasons last longer than a year, and there’s plenty to talk about with respect to the important, defining decade from 20 to 30 alone, but today, I’d like to do something different: I want to share one thing I’ve learned from each year I’ve been alive.

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Lincoln’s Unsent Angry Letter: Modern Technology Edition

In 2014, Maria Konnikova lamented the lost art of “the unsent angry letter” in the New York Times. The idea is that if you’re upset at something or someone, you write a detailed, liberal response — and then stick it in your drawer until you’ve cooled off.

US president Abraham Lincoln may be the most prominent proponent of “hot letters,” as he called them, but the stashed vent has a long tradition among statesmen and public figures. Harry Truman, Mark Twain, Winston Churchill — the list of admired characters to prove the tactic’s efficacy is long enough.

It serves as both an emotional and strategic catharsis, Konnikova noted. You can “let it all out” without fearing retaliation while, simultaneously, seeing what proper arguments you have on offer — and what’s just nasty, unhinged thought.

In theory, the tool is as intact as ever: When you’re angry, write a letter. Then, let it sit. By the time you revisit, you’ll be able to learn rather than suffer from it. In practice, however, 200 years of technological progress have undoubtedly left their mark on what used to be a pen-and-paper exercise. Konnikova writes:

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Your Phone Should Be Like Your Toothbrush

If your phone was more like your toothbrush, your life would be a lot better.

Your toothbrush is the greatest tool of all time. You only use it when you’re supposed to, for as long as you need to, and then, you let it go.

That’s what the best tools do: They put you in control at all times, even when you’re not using them. That’s because all great tools optimize for mindfulness. They preserve your time, attention, and energy instead of draining them.

A tool must have three properties to achieve this:

  1. It only triggers you when you actually benefit from using it.
  2. It requires as little of your time as possible once you pick it up.
  3. It prompts you to put it back down it as soon as you’re done.

Your phone does the opposite of all of these, and that’s why, in its standard configuration, it’s a terrible tool. Your phone calls for your attention 24/7, and once it has you, it never wants to let you go.

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5 Websites That Will Give You a Break From Pandemic Fatigue

Yesterday, I listened to the radio in Japan for 30 minutes. I also looked out someone’s backyard window in Romania, got a hug from a stranger, and spent a few minutes on the moon.

I did these things thanks to the internet, and I did them because, after nine months of Covid madness, my “surge capacity” has been depleted. Professor Ann Masten from the University of Minnesota explains the term as follows:

Surge capacity is a collection of adaptive systems — mental and physical — that humans draw on for short-term survival in acutely stressful situations, such as natural disasters. But natural disasters occur over a short period, even if recovery is long. Pandemics are different — the disaster itself stretches out indefinitely.

When the virus first hit, I did what most people did: I rallied. I bought masks, stopped seeing people, and started working from home. I adjusted to the new normal, and, for the majority of nine months, that seemed to work just fine. But, as Tara Haelle writes: “How do you adjust to an ever-changing situation where the ‘new normal’ is indefinite uncertainty?”

The answer is, “You don’t,” and so last week, my strong run finally came to an end. I caught myself thinking: “I wish I could go back to the library.” I was sad, disappointed, and furious. Why did Germany handle the situation so poorly? Why do we get stricter and stricter rules, none of which seem to work? How can I go to a pool party in Taiwan but not meet two friends for coffee here? It was a mix of anger and depression, two of the five stages of grief.

Instead of overriding those feelings, I decided to accept them. I was tired — worn out from nine months of surging — and so I let the wave of pandemic fatigue wash over me. For the next few days, I didn’t do much. I mostly ran on autopilot, and, sometimes, feeling melancholic and unmotivated is okay.

When the wrong wires cross and sparks fly in your brain, don’t send more power through the grid. Take out the fuse. Let it cool off before it explodes.

Yesterday, I finally turned a corner — to Reddit where I found a treasure trove of cool websites. Some of them were useful, others too niche for my needs, but a small selection showed me something I had almost forgotten: They made the world feel whole again. They made it seem big and small, active and peaceful, exciting and wholesome at the same time.

Here are those websites. I hope they’ll give you a moment of pandemic relief.

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