Every so often, I end up here, in a place where every task completed is met with a few more added to the end. As the list grows, so does my anxiety about trying to reach the end—an end that is never in sight, let alone becoming any closer. At this point, I try to remind myself of a mantra picked up from Oliver Burkeman: “There will always be more work,” but it still gets a bit much sometimes.
You see, most of these books on productivity come from places of privilege. They are authored by people who either control their task lists or, quite often, occupy positions where they are no longer burdened by one. The problem is that most of us, the mere mortals who consume these books, do not sit in this graceful position. We often do not control our never-ending task list and must forever contemplate the idea of getting ‘too much done’ for fear of being given more.
There are a few golden books out there. Earlier this year, I read Make Time, which came from a more understanding place. The two authors, although afflicted with the tendency to talk about themselves too much, wrote the book from a more realistic position in working life. I am sure there are more out there too, but the books, podcasts, and YouTube videos all talk about very simple things: scheduling your work (in a myriad of different ways) and being dedicated to completing it.
You can time block. You could plan ahead. Mark one task as your priority. It doesn’t really matter. What none of them talk about, save for “4000 Weeks”, is the stress of it all. Looking at your task list and never seeing it get shorter is one of the best motivation killers imaginable. Having no breaks in your workload to think, plan, be creative, or complete a task you find more fulfilling is a passion killer—a surefire way to burn out and throw in the towel.
As I said at the start, there will always be more work, and that’s a good thing to keep moving and stay motivated. However, there comes a point when it becomes too much, the plate is piled too high, and there is no room to breathe. Drowning in tasks is a terrible way to go.
Brandon encouraging more people to blog the way he does:
It’s easy, blog about what you like. Talk about the things that you are passionate about, things you find joy in, or document your day-to-day.
I really enjoyed this post, despite disagreeing slightly. You see, we both come from a place where blogging is pretty easy; we write about all sorts of things. However, it isn’t that easy for a lot of people.
Thinking about the motivations behind why people would 1) set up a blog and 2) post to it consistently often leaves me confused. Despite all the positives I get from mine, I can appreciate all of the barriers to starting one, and they are too high for most. The motivation to overcome them is often met with the realisation that blogging will cost you time and effort for very little to no reward.
Part of this is due to the framing that writing online has. The constant bombardment of advice from content creators to ‘do this one thing to get loads of views,’ among other such nonsense, leads people who would otherwise blog for the fun of it to begin worrying about stats. The reality is you will not make a living out of writing online. That should be okay. For most people, it’s not, but it should be. With web ad revenues being disappointing, your hard work being scooped up by AI, and a million other people out there doing the same thing, I can’t figure out why people would start blogging in 2024.
To be honest, I am only here because it’s a habit, and I like playing around with my website. It’s fine to write about your life and other such interests. My favourite blogs to follow do exactly that, but it’s absolutely understandable if you don’t want to do that. Blogging isn’t easy, and no amount of rose-tinting will change that, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try. Put some value on your words, and join in.
Cassidy writing about the missing human curation:
When algorithms determine everything we should see, the internet becomes much less personal. The “For You” pages of the world are accurate—I am interested in that content, but I’m not seeing it from my friends, or that one author I like, or that random blog I stumbled upon while learning about an obscure hobby.
I stumbled upon this post while searching for cross-posting options for my blog. Due to its precise hit on the internet’s head, I’m now seriously considering personal curation.
While I still believe that algorithmic sorting on a large scale is better for users, the effectiveness of these systems ‘depends’. Almost all are designed to keep you engaged, manipulate your cognition, and then serve you ads. I’ve never encountered one tailored to show you things from your friends, and that’s the real issue.
The finger of accusation can’t be pointed at ‘the algorithm’. It just doing its job. It’s the companies that took all the personality out of the web for their own benefit. Manipulated us into thinking we needed them, remove all the quirkiness from our websites to rank higher and changed the way we post for internet points.
Arun Venkatesan has lots of thoughts on photography gear:
The problem lies within the question itself. It’s one of those inquiries that cannot be definitively answered with anything other than “it depends.” It depends on who is using the gear. It depends on what they are using it for.
I genuinely enjoyed reading this entire post, thanks to Jarrod for sharing it. It reflects much of my own photography journey, especially the part about owning a Leica. Initially, I purchased all sorts of equipment, thinking it would improve my skills. To a certain extent, it did—I learned where I wanted to go and what I wanted my images to convey. Then, I scaled back, seeking something simpler.
After the X100V came an even smaller camera, the Ricoh GRiiiX. It fulfils my needs and truly fits in my pocket. However, this post isn’t about me; it’s about gear, and I believe it does matter to a point. An amateur with a point-and-shoot camera will not be able to achieve the same results as even a half-decent mirrorless camera will—but the question is more about the end result. Learning about what you want to achieve with the final image shapes the gear you ‘need’.
The issue with the realisation that you don’t need so much stuff often comes after purchasing all the things you don’t need. Buy all the things you want; it won’t necessarily make you better, but there’s a chance you might learn something along the way - it’s fun.
Ava writing about effort in their newsletter:
if someone’s much better than you at something, they probably try much harder. You probably underestimate how much harder they try. I’m not saying that talent isn’t a meaningful differentiator, because it certainly is, but I think people generally underestimate how effort needs to be poured into talent in order to develop it.
Whenever you feel yourself saying “I’d love to be good at that thing” - the answer is go and do it. Sure there is talent at play for getting to the extremes of things, but nothing replaces hard work, effort and dedication.
It doesn’t matter what it is, writing, taking photos, getting fit - just go do it and stop wishing.