When I am old, will I forget the sound of your voice? Your laugh? Your birthday? The day you were diagnosed? Or the day you died? Will there be a day I am so adjusted to your absence that I answer with something less than "two brothers" when asked how many siblings I have? Sometimes I already am unsure if my memory places you in the right scenarios and saying the right things. Like the time the car wouldn't start on a cold winter morning so we had to miss the Yu-Gi-Oh tournament and try to warm ourselves with coats from the trunk. You were there for that, right?

It's barely been a decade. I can't tell if this is all the passage of time or if my medications cause it or if the bipolar itself does it. And that scares me. And you've never known this fear of mine. Like so many things, none of this materialized until you were gone.

Rage

I am angry, brother. I have been angry nearly every moment of every day since March of 2012. Sometimes, it sits in the back of my mind. It is a passive feeling. Just a small slice of my neutral state. But other times, it is an inferno at the center of which I can be found slumped and screaming. When I look out in any direction, across any moment in time, I see fire. It would have me scorch the Earth. I hate. I have hated. I will continue to hate. You are not here, and I hate that. I know you would have me not hate, and I have tried. I promise I will continue trying. But just know it is not gone yet.

Love

I blame no one for your absence. I love the medical staff that tried for thirteen long months to save you. I love mom who raised us to be as close as we are - I refuse to use the past tense here. I love Marc for every conceivable reason that we both love him. And I have learned to love so many more people. To share the bits of you that I can with them. And they have been willing to love me. Sometimes I am mean to myself and say it is in spite of who I am, but usually I believe they actually do love me. It's incredible. They celebrate your life with me. People celebrate you even still. I think you would be quite happy with the amount of love I give and receive. We both know I was an angry child.

Incomplete

I apologize to anyone who may be reading this, but it is at this point that I must stop. I had wanted to write about hope, curiosity, anxiety, and more. But I have no space left for them today as I am currently sitting, slumping, screaming in an inferno. And when I look out, I see fire. I see Pete having seizures I cannot save him from. I see the tumor. I see the life he could have lived. And it has, as it often does, rendered me empty. Not forever though I have come to be sure of. Perhaps another time then.

The conversation around political violence is not one of whether we condone violence but rather a question of necessity.

We can dislike political violence all we want, but if an individual or groups of people feel as though it is their only option, they will exercise that option. They will be justified because, in their view, the options have narrowed and a singularity has been presented. As we head into the warmer months here in the United States, I find this outcome increasingly likely.

But why? The simplest answer is that many on both sides of the aisle saw this as a pivotal election. It was do-or-die. For whatever your personal political beliefs are, I think it is a worthwhile task to observe how we got here. I've come to the conclusion that while interesting, it is also intensely tragic.

Donald Trump rose to prominence in the Republican primaries for 2016 by being everything a career politicians were not. He was loud and inconsiderate, but also politically unburdened with the stagnation of American politics. His greatest appeal was that he was a businessman who could apply his knowledge of Wall Street to the inner workings of the American bureaucracy.

For a dozen and a half reasons, that was never going to be true. When he became president and tried to exert the pressure he was used to offering in the world of business, he found lines of politicians, government officials, and military advisors who tempered his expectations and subdued his greatest excesses. There were still plenty of happenings, laws, executive orders, and appointments that occurred in that first term. But I believe it is a completely fair observation to say it was not what he expected, nor did it go as far as many of his base had hoped.

As has been displayed in the early months of 2025, we are not in the same situation as that first term. What has changed?

The Republican party, at a general application, is no longer willing to stand in the way of the president. And while we on the left love to call them cowards, these politicians are, for many on the right, doing what the constituents want. They are stepping aside and allowing Donald Trump immense individual power over our republic.

Some are doing this because they have bought into Trump's vision for America, some are doing it to protect their livelihood with a hope of securing their elected seats in the future. But each of them is either a result of or has successfully transitioned to the new Republican party. It is a results oriented party, and the politicians of yesteryear gave it all the platform it needed.

It was not long ago when both major US political parties loved to cry stagnation at one another. I remember well the Republican controlled Congress from the latter years of the Obama administration. McConnell famously blocked all attempts from President Obama to fill a vacant Supreme Court seat only to have no problem rushing the same decision at the end of Donald Trump's first term. Whether you like the outcome of that hypocrisy or not, it was hypocritical bullshit plain and simple. But it was a symptom of a larger problem that had been growing in the power palaces of DC. The parties had reached a weaponizing of the slow moving bureaucracy, always at least partially present in a two party republic, that left many Americans beyond frustrated.

Why wasn't the minimum wage increasing? Why haven't we pulled out of Afghanistan or Iraq yet? Why isn't there more patrolling of the border? Will we further develop the ACA? Will we gut it entirely?

The answer was always: They won't let us.

For a long time, it appeared these politicians were highlighting flaws in the opposition. But what they were doing for many was highlighting irreparable flaws of the republican system. Some knew this, some caught on too late. Regardless, both parties began losing the trust of voters in droves. Entire swathes of once secure seats began shifting if not outright defecting. Now what? They have no means to gain back that trust though. They have allowed themselves to become locked in a stalemate. We can call it complacency, we can call it abuses of power, we can call it the fault of an ever diverging media atmosphere, but the stalemate was there. And every American was getting so tired of seeing it.

Donald Trump did not offer people a democratic solution to their problems. He offered people a solution to the problem of a democracy that had failed them. Whether a person sees him as the restorer or destroyer of democracy in the US, they see him as acting upon it - something that many constituents for both parties believed was no longer possible with traditional party leadership in control. While I do not believe the up-and-coming Democrats would take control in the centralized way that Trump has, it is impossible to ignore the popular elevation of individuals like Bernie Sanders or AOC on the left as a direct response to anger with individuals like Nancy Pelosi or Chuck Schumer. This is mirrored by many on the right who once praised McConnell but who now see him as tiring and outdated.

I suppose the bottom line here is that both parties eventually had a fissure from within, a response to the purposeful stagnation that was once a tool turned purposeless mishap. I believe the new Republican party is the one that more readily embraced that fissure. Hence, they gave themselves over completely to Trump. They promised that in 2024, should they win, he would be able to take all the actions they had displayed caution over in his first four years.

I have plenty of conservative family and friends. I also exist in 2025 and clearly have access to the internet against my better judgement. The most quoted rationale for Trump I have heard ever since those first primaries nearly a decade ago has always been, "At least he is doing something."

The Democratic party, meanwhile, bet against the progressives in their ranks and sowed the seeds for the complete deterioration of trust from their voting base. The progressives may not have polled well enough, and that is fine. But they needed to be given an established voice within the party instead of being entirely at odds with party leadership. They needed a path forward within the party that people across the political spectrum could identify as lively and action oriented. The junction presented in the 2024 election was not, as the Democratic party had misinterpreted, a junction between chaos and order. It was a junction between action and inaction. These are the optics of it all at least.

Here is my plea. The stakes have already been laid clear. The Republican party has restructured itself. The Democratic party must face its folly or face a fracture it will never recover from. And yet neither of those truths will stop the looming unrest. Because the traditional avenues for expression have been upended in both parties.

I believe Americans will die this summer. At the very least, there will be mass unrest and mass incarcerations. These...seem inevitable. But when it happens, if you are not one of those lying in the streets or sitting in a cell, return home. Call your loved ones, and then your political representatives. Demand our voices back. Take the lesson of 2024 as the win it can be. Ask for your representative to hold Trump accountable to due process and the legal framework of this nation.

To the conservatives, unless you are an autocrat or monarchist - in which case this country admittedly might not be for you - Trump must be held accountable to the due process of the law and bureaucracy. Not because I believe it will slow him down, but because it will not always be him in that seat. You have a voice now and feel you are achieving desired results. But by giving that voice to Trump and Trump alone, not the infrastructure of government itself, a pathway has been introduced for an eventual autocrat to remove that voice. Now, more than ever, you can demand of your representatives to prove the bureaucracy can work and to save us from the eventual descent into autocracy that any group or individual may attempt to capitalize on. You may feel Biden or Obama were those first autocrats, and you are following suite. But I ask for your reflection and good will in the belief that it could be far worse if this path continues from either side of the political aisle. I said the 2024 election was one of action versus inaction. I am not asking for a return to stagnation. I merely ask that you ensure you continue to have a vocal stake in a republic rather than a diminished voice in an autocracy.

To the liberals, the liberal leadership rather. This Party is over. Many of us knew that, but some are still sitting around in the house waiting for the music to get loud again. You, the Party, must be willing to respond to the needs of your voters rather than continue to insist you know better than them. Progressives can become a wing to the party, or they can be what fractures you forever from "left" voters of any demographic background. In a two party system like ours, like the one you knowingly contributed to the formation of, such a fracture results in complete loss of political agency to the split groups. Do not leave progressives with such resistance to you as their only choice. And for the love of God, argue with Trump at every turn. There is a tendency from the Democratic party as a whole to sit back and hope the Trump base digs their own graves. But the power you forfeit in doing so cannot be regained and the trust lost from the American people not recoverable.

Both sides, we can acknowledge that we disagree on policy. We can use name calling as a strategy. We can protest one another. We can say virulent things. We can not get along. We can be at each other's throats. There is hostility and animosity abundant in American politics right now. Keep it. Move past it. It is what it is. Whatever we decide, however bad those arguments get, they need to be done within the framework of a republic.

If you think I've been too kind to one side or the other, I probably have been. Even writing this, I feel like I'm not taking my usual forward stance on many political issues I care deeply about. I feel as though I've had to settle into a tone of complacency over what has been happening in order to make this appeal. That frustrates me. I am not complacent. I am full to the brim with rage and fear. But when I get into a spitting match with my conservative friends and family a year from now, I want there to be a US to fight over. A republic to fight over. Don't look at the victories of policy without considering the framework through which they are being achieved. The loss of our political voice, no matter the policy outcome, can never be a win for America.

I will see you all in the streets this Summer. I hope we make it to the other side.

Disclaimer: I wrote the majority of this before Donald Trump worked with President Bukele to defy an order made by the Supreme Court. I am now more unsure of if this post is still asking for a possible outcome to this all than I was when I wrote it. But I'm posting it because I want to remember I was hopeful. Make community with the people you need most. There is no telling what state we can expect the Federal government to be in even a year from now.

Cobwebs lay forgotten in the attic of my family home. 
The fiberglass insulation stings my skin when I misstep. 
We were warned about falling through the ceiling. 
We took the warning to heart. 

Tight is the size of the attic.
Suffocating is the size of the always-open hole in the closet. 
The one we squeeze through, splinters and all, to be somewhere old. 
There is no ladder. 

We improvise one man-made. 
I am a step for Marc. 
Marc's hands hold Pete's foot. 
Pete is lifted up and in. 

We push and pull each other up. 
There is room, just enough, for the memories now. 
It is dark. 
I forgot the flashlights. 

Once more. 
This time the lights go up with Pete. 
He pulls us up and in, and it is bright with the shadows of us. 
He is strong for his age. 

I think about my little brother often. 
Maybe more, I think about his cancer.
I will, one day, have more years 
Without him than with him. 

I sit at the precipice of forgetting. 

I've been here for hours. 

It's a long drop. 



Miles Davis's brass voice is wailing out from the ether. 

There is rain, but I do not hear it. 

Somewhere on my person, a low battery warning buzzes. 



My fingers clench the steering wheel. 

I have been crying for a five-minute eternity. 

The car is somewhere between neutral and parked. 



I'm waiting to slip

Back down the hill

Or tip over the top.



All around me are hazard lights. 

Screams break through the music. 

I never left the couch.

They do an in-depth analysis of the Squib Dunk Theorem of Criminal Pseudo-Mysticism.

Real talk: All the respect to the people behind FlibbleStump. Easily my most listened to show of the year. What's that? You wanted to hear about some of the topics they cover.

Well, it's all about the Squib Dunk Theorem of course. And there are occasional guest speakers who knew Squib from his professional and personal life. It shows how the different parts of his life overlapped in the perfect patterns for him to develop the theorem. I just wish I could remember the names of some of the speakers. The host? It's... I don't remember that either.

But they follow the case of Anthony Bink. He stole money from the hedge fund he worked at. I feel like I've spent all year listening to this show, and now I remember none of it.

Hi. Billy Mays here. Has this ever happened to you? You've been passively enjoying a podcast on your drive to work. You love the hosts, the story, and feel like you're really learning something. Only to unintelligibly ramble about it to friends when you try convincing them to give it a listen?

Well, our friends at OxiClean have the solution you've been waiting for. Presenting: Jesus fucking Christ. Josh. you know it is okay if not everything in life becomes an exercise in productivity and that sometimes just enjoying a thing is enough. You do know that right? He doesn’t know it guys. How do we tell him.

In all seriousness, as I was staring down my Obsidian note graph for the Albigensian crusade, it occurred to me that maybe how I relax is finding optimal ways to do things that I'll never actually do. That isn't to say that I won't learn about the Albigensian crusade. I am definitely doing that, and if you enjoy history podcasts I will heartily recommend The History of the Crusades. But the odds that I actually complete this note graph? Slim to none. You better believe I have a cluster of linked notes denoting important people, events, and locations to go along with the podcast. You know. That podcast I mostly listen to when I'm driving? The perfect time to pull out your laptop and just start cross-referencing books with the podcast to create a summary you are pleased with but which is no more informed than Wikipedia. That is not a dig at Wikipedia. I have a recurring donation to Wikipedia. But damn it if I'm not just creating a Wikipedia rabbit hole for myself but with less referenced material.

Back to the Albigensian crusade. What do I remember about it? The big picture stuff. Catholics, cathars, Raymond of Toulouse, King Peter of Aragon, and Montsegur.

But the little flourishes that make a truly great history podcast? All gone to some backlogged-screensaver-having-ass portion of my brain. I wanted to fix that. Or maybe I wanted to want to fix it? All I know is that I use Obsidian for writing my posts here, my novel, and remembering technical knowledge. Why not this as well?

I'll tell you why. Because it's too much. I always do this shit. I always try to do too much and turn everything into a process. Hey bud. Buddy. You in the mirror. Chill the fuck out. Just enjoy the podcast. Use the note graphs for those other things. Don't start one for yoyos or horology for the love of God. Dumbass.

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A mouse in a house.

What does a mouse do when the house is full of cheese? It eats. At first, the mouse eats whatever it can and whenever it can. It isn't sustainable. He struggles to get up out of bed by the sixth day. There is just too much cheese. So he starts setting limits. He develops preferences. Gouda is his favorite and so he saves it for Fridays as a special treat - never wanting it to run out. The Kraft singles are an abomination in the eyes of god and so he saves those for when all the other cheeses are gone. He tries to never let the cheese well run dry for fear of the singles. Swiss is the best cheese at being average. The mouse would award it a beige medal if he could, and so he eats it the most.

Right now, my life is fucking full of Gouda. I don't need to eat the Swiss. And I sure as hell don't need to worry about those Kraft singles. There are chunks of Gouda everywhere. I don't often celebrate all the cheesy goodness in my life, but I want to celebrate it. So this is me celebrating all the Gouda.

• Aged two years: Currently unnamed novel Gouda

Imagine I actually name this thing Gouda. I can say truthfully that the title would make no goddamn sense if I did. Anyways, it is the furthest I've ever come to realizing a novel. I'm proud of the progress.

• Aged two weeks: Blog Gouda

This blog exist because I got the urge to write again, but I wasn't ready to commit back to focusing on the novel. I wanted this to bridge that gap. It has done that, and I'm writing the novel again.

• Aged thirty four years: Marc Gouda

There will never be a better man than my brother. I am who I am because he is who he is. This is some good cheese right here.

• Aged fifteen years: Pete Gouda

This is some sad cheese. But boy was it incredible while it was here. The block may be gone, but I'll always remember all the good times. Life has never been the same.

• Aged five years: Bipolar Gouda

I want to make something clear. Bipolar Gouda is a rat bastard of a cheese, and it almost consumed me whole. But I am thriving. The stench when I open my fridge door is a great reminder of the reasons I must take care of myself, lest I grab for this cheese and fuck it all up. There are times it falls off the shelf and spills onto the kitchen floor when I go to grab a tea or stay up too late, but I hope to always have the foresight to put it back on the shelf where it belongs. And to ask for help if I can't seem to lift it up on my own. Smelly ass weekend ruining cheese. Thanks.

• Aged four years: Emi Gouda

There isn't much to say about this one. Rather, there is a ton to say. Beyond the scope of this post. I love you, Emi. Thanks for the cheese.

• Aged nine years: YoYo Gouda

Who would have guessed that I'd still be yoyoing after nine years? Or that I'd still be pretty damn bad at it because I do it so sporadically. But that's the whole idea here! I just have so much cheese right now. I can't spend all my time eating yoyo cheese. I did also recently make a neat little trick.

• Aged one year: Iron Claw Gouda

Fuck this beautiful perfect film. How dare it even have a theatrical release? Was it a social experiment designed to see if hundreds of people crying in movie theaters together would break down barriers of embarrassment? Thanks for whatever the hell cathartic experience this was.

• Aged seventy years: Lord of the Rings Gouda

I promise this is the oldest Gouda on the list. I was tempted to age it only twenty three years to mark the release of Jackson's Return of the King. I could never do that to Tom Bombadil though. This story is great at making me feel things. And I really appreciate that. Thanks Tolkien.

• Aged one year: Fountain Pen Gouda

This Gouda isn't actually fountain pens. It is the embodiment of everything fountain pens do for me. I write more. I have improved my cursive handwriting. I journal. I thoughtfully care for the pens. They are a respite from all that which is not either ink or words.

• Aged one year: My enjoyment of Andre Tarkovsky films Gouda

Stalker is a great film. I don't think I'd step into the room. I'm not sure I'd step into the building even. And where is the phone call coming from? Tarkovsky reinvigorated my watching movies. Thanks for capturing the essence of everything and nothing there buddy. Can I call you buddy, Tarkovsky? I'm going to call you buddy.

• Age undisclosed: Mom Gouda

Is it undisclosed because I'm playing into old and tired tropes? Is it because I'm an ass of a son who doesn't know his mom's age? Or is it because I will always see her as perpetually thirty-five? I'll never tell. Regardless, I could not have been raised by a better person under any other circumstances or conditions. Thanks mom.

• Aged twenty years: Starting a Pokemon Sapphire or Emerald save file with a Mudkip every single time and catching a Surskit despite Masquerain really not being that good of a Pokemon but doing it because you love water bugs thanks to fond memories of playing in creeks during your childhood Gouda

This is some real specific cheese.

• Aged ten years: Joe and Abby Worthington Gouda

Technically, I've known these two for longer than ten years. But in the last ten years they've really become a grounding force in my life. They've helped me through a lot, and many of my best memories since high school involve these two. Bonus points for being the couple I know who likely does have enough knowledge of cheese to have assisted me with this had I bothered to ask. You two are the best.

• Aged three years: Watch Gouda

In my first post, I said I was too ashamed of the watches to talk about them. That was a lie and an attempt to be funny. I have no shame. Just like fountain pen Gouda, this cheese is the feelings that the watches facilitate. They matter because they give me a sense of my time. Not time infinite. But the moments I choose to spend developing relationships with people. Good job you expensive paper weights.

Two types of Gouda

Look. I also don't know if Gouda has different subcategories. But there are two types of Gouda. There is feelings Gouda and people Gouda. Things are more like Swiss. Gouda is that real special cheese. It should be reserved for relationships. We save Gouda for the feelings we get by purposefully navigating the cheese, the meats, the veggies, and the unrelenting fucking rot of life.

Thanks to all Gouda in my life.

Three weeks ago I got a new wallet. It is a sleek, handmade, beautifully dyed leather. This one has an included slip for a small pocket knife and another for a pocket flashlight which I have repurposed to house my pocket pen. I really am quite proud of this setup and have a couple pictures of it.

Aside from my phone and car keys, this is now all I have to carry in my pocket. I've done it. No loose items jangling around in my pockets. No risk of a metal card holder viciously shredding off the lamination of my debit card. No anxiety that my pen will tumble and ink will stain the inside of my pockets. I am, at this point, the human embodiment of minimalism and efficiency.

But the pocket knife I had planned to use in the wallet doesn't quite fit so I have to go buy a new Buck “The 55” that fits more comfortably. And unlike my previous simple leather card holder there is no place to reasonably insert a $20 bill so I am back to being cashless. As I am leaving the hardware store with my new knife for my new wallet, I think about the leather card holder I have abandoned to my nightstand drawer. It was already beautiful, handmade, all natural leather. And I swore when I bought it that there would never be an urge or need to replace it. That was already my second wallet in eighteen months. Shouldn’t have sworn on it. So this is my third wallet, and yes it does do everything I had hoped, but I was left to wonder as I closed my car door, "Am I even doing this right?"

Three wallets in less than two years. I am the human embodiment of minimalism and efficiency.

Four Pens

Now I am thinking about all the other things I've bought recently in my pursuit of various lofty ideals.

My pocket pen holds substantially less ink than a regular fountain pen. Naturally, I have a full size pen for my desk at home, one for my desk at work, and one for my backpack - which even though I carry with me everywhere is somehow a different entity from my pocket carry items and thus warrants its own pen (this one also oddly sees the most use despite the others being out and ready at their assigned rendezvous point). Admittedly, I do just like the different materials and colors of these other pens so this is much easier to justify as a purposeful collection of things.

But what was the purposeful purpose of buying this first tiny pen? Easy! I still remember that, and I am proud to say it is such a valid bit of reasoning. I wanted to distance myself from a rather dependent relationship with computers. This leans more minimal than it does efficient because there aren't many things more efficient than a computer. But I know myself. If I try to get some work done on my computer, I will inevitably Wikipedia spiral, watch a video essay, or play a game. There is simply too much to do on a computer. Heck, before the pen I had even bought a Chromebook in an effort to especially cut down on the video games... Did you know that with Linux enabled on a Chromebook you can download RuneScape, Adventure Quest, and Minecraft? Because it took me about an hour before I had all three.

But with a pen? All I can do is write. Look how minimal of an intent and resource this tiny guy is. Except fountain pens bleed through your standard office paper far too easily. I needed new paper - fountain pen paper. Since I was buying new paper, I should buy it in a variety of sizes so that I can have some for my desk, my backpack, and pocket. Except I only ever use the notebook that fits perfectly in my backpack because I want all of my daily notes in a central location. Go figure.

I refuse to admit it in so many words, though I will say to you honestly now that I likely knew this before buying my array of notebooks.

Each pen also has two converters so that I can swap inks without needing to clean the converter. Except I never swap inks because each pen has a matching ink. Each individual workspace looks minimal and purposeful, but is that true if I've got a closet full of notebooks, fountain pen cleaning supplies, inks, nibs, and converters? It probably isn't true. It's okay. Be honest with me. I can take it.

And I still own a laptop that can distract me.

Four Computers

Actually, I own three laptops. And a desktop PC. Each was purchased with the intent of redefining my relationship with technology. As I write this reflection, I think my relationship with technology might just be that I'm a little goblin piggy hoarding my little treasure trove of little goblin nonsense.

When I get home from the hardware store with my new wallet and my new knife and my old pen, I sit down at my desk and pretty immediately start with the video games. I'm actually about 12,000 words into writing a novel, but I've been at 12,000 words for the past three months. At the time that I bought my gaming laptop, I told myself I needed the processing power for my photography hobby. I think my camera's battery has been dead since the day I bought the darn laptop. I seldom go out and do shoots anymore. I have too much of x, y, and z to play (Y being the superior of the three games, but I'll never tell my friends who play x this). At some point two years ago, I decided that I should put the gaming laptop up away on a very high shelf somewhere - a solution that is, of course, exactly comparable to throwing the thing away. I bought my Chromebook. I would definitely write more and take more photos now (see above for a reminder of how this failed). Although it was nice to revisit some of those older games which I had ignored with my more powerful gaming laptop. That was not the planned outcome, but it was a reduction and reshaping in some way. I'll count this as half a point for me. And I did actually increase my writing output considerably for the first year that I owned the Chromebook.

Now I have a Chromebook (mine) that I bring with me in my backpack to do simple computing tasks and to keep a focused head, a Chromebook (my school's) that I use for logging into a bunch of proprietary and locked down applications that I carry in my backpack during the school year, a gaming laptop that I keep on my desk at home and which I should once again throw away into the garbage bin that is a top shelf very high up somewhere. And a desktop PC that stays in the living room for playing party games when we have guests. There isn't much to say about that one other than Jackbox party games sure are fun.

They all still have a clearly defined purpose in my mind, and I think that is how I justify keeping each of them. I do have a focused and singular relationship with each of them, even if some of those relationships clearly impede and supersede the relationships and connected goals of so many of my other items.

None of this has touched on my individual Linux workflow that I have also developed alongside these many computers and which I likely spend more time adjusting the parameters and utilities of than actually engaging in the creative hobbies the workflow was meant to bring focus onto.

Eight YoYos

I don't have to justify these to anyone. Not even myself.

Minimal, Mechanical, Mindful

So what the #&!@ is minimalism? Am I doing it right? I think I am. Or at the very least I am trying my best to do it right.

With each new device or tool, I tend to donate or sell the old ones. Even if it takes me a few months. I truly am dedicated to changing my relationship with technology so that I can focus on simpler interactions with more direct tools to better facilitate growth in myself and in my hobbies. Still, I will never stop buying pens or watches (I hid this one from you out of shame). I like the very analogue and tactile nature of engaging with them. I find their physics impressive and mesmerizing. And I do want to celebrate that by having far more of both than I will ever need.

So maybe I am not a minimalist, or maybe I am a minimalist by another name. Insert mindfulness. Just jam mindfulness right on in there. Really slot it in because you need to reconcile that not every hobby needs to feel productive and it is okay to like video games without hating yourself.

I'm not necessarily always pursuing fewer items. That is not where I am being minimal. I am minimal in my intent. Each item I own has increasingly taken on a specific purpose, and those purposes are not often cluttered and crossed over multiple items. That pen that stays on my desk at home? I still use it every day for journaling. That is it's purpose. I simply use it less than backpack pen.

I am minimal in the choice of my tools. In order to develop a meaningful relationship with the processes my tools facilitate, I tend to use tools that are very tactile and require a lot of engagement to master and maintain. Physical paper, hand wound watches, self-cleaned and inked pens. Every step of labor that goes into maintaining these items strengthens my bond to them. I love it. I love the mechanical.

The thing about minimalism, aside from it being a busy-bee-buzz-buzz word, is that it can be categorized, measured, analyzed in a million different ways. And for me, as long as my items have a clear purpose that I develop further with each use, I am happy. I want my TV space to be curated towards movies. I want my phone to be curated towards communication. I want my computer to be curated towards art and games.

For what it is worth, I am typing this on my Chromebook away from my desk and following an outline I had written down in my backpack notebook. So I developed this post in the exact way I always hope I will. And I'm happy about that.

Conclusions

Wait. I'm a teacher. I can't even carry a pocket knife for ten months out of a year. Why did I buy this wallet?