Waiting at a train or a subway station feels very different if you are in an unfamiliar city, traveling for example. I was thinking this as I got a bit stuck in transit. I was on my way home after dropping off my daughter in daycare. And I remembered the first months after moving to Berlin: the city still unfamiliar, as well as the language; trains and busses still something new — not as a concept, but as this specific country’s variety. I paid more attention to how things were written, even more as I didn’t fully understand their meaning. A lot of little daily things that I hardly ever notice today, I watched and watched back then. The signs, the typography, the green text in the wagons showing the next station and an arrow to advise on which side the platform would be… The same way my kid now notices and gets excited when we are on a new train, how the upholstering in the train car is different, and how this train is unlike the older ones in the little details. It is only when we travel and encounter new things, we are able to revive the sense of wonder and puzzlement that we had as kids.

Another thought is about childhood. Looking back, we underestimate how confused we were as kids. We remember the sense of wonder and joy and surprise. But we forget the endless confusion, puzzlement and the necessity to rely on a trusted adult to figure things out. The trusted adult who is not going to pay attention to the minute details, but will make sure that we are safe in navigating the city, or any environment.

Growing used to the place, we stop noticing, we stop looking. Not a bad thing. But one needs a sense of novelty every now and again. Maybe this is the sense that we can find in ourselves — using our old environments in a new way, doing something different in them. If we are still on the topic of being in transit, you can get on a bus or ride a bike instead. And that will be new. You can pick up a new activity, and it will bring you a sense of having potential, which means seeing fresh, being something new that you haven’t been before. There is always a measure to the amount of comfort and certain numbness to the environment we want to have, maybe to focus on the inside of us rather than the outside; and equally, there is a level of wonder and looking with fresh eyes that life wants.

Dividing people into subtypes based on their dominant perception — auditory, visual, and tactile — has always felt a little wrong to me. Sometimes, kinesthetic is added into the mix. This subdivision is often applied to learning styles. Do you learn better when you look, listen, write (or is it doodle? take notes?) or do things by hand? (See EducationPlanner as an example.)

I thought of myself as mostly auditory; maybe because I liked music, I was a DJ, and I wanted to be in touch with my hearing/listening perception. But then, who isn’t a visual type? We all perceive information better when presented in a diagram or with similar visual aids, than when listening to it — in numbers, especially. And touch. Isn’t touch important to me? Oh, it is, no doubt about it.

So, by attributing yourself to one of the senses, you’re robbing yourself of everything else. We are multi-faceted. Everything is important. It is unnecessarily limiting to stick to what you think is right for you, without exploring other things that could be equally or more beneficial. This attribution to one of the senses is supposed to be a hack, and instead, it does not benefit you. You don’t learn faster, better and stronger by focusing only on one type of skill or one sort of exercise. You can’t train just one muscle. You can’t learn a language by only learning grammar, or not learning grammar, for that matter. You have to, and you inevitably will, engage all senses that are available to you.

As I’m googling the subject more, I find articles, including this one from American Psychological Association, debunking the myth of learning styles:

“Previous research has shown that the learning styles model can undermine education in many ways. Educators spend time and money tailoring lessons to certain learning styles for different students even though all students would benefit from learning through various methods.”

As much as our brain loves categories and simplifications, we should not be depriving ourselves of a broader outlook. There is no simple hack: do this, and get the ultimate result. You have to do this, and this, and that.

My twenties were in a lot of ways about optimizing. I wanted to organize and reorganize. I could say, this was one of my themes since childhood. I wanted some sort of order, my own, something that would increase my comfort. It was also the time of productivity and lifehack blogs sprouting like mushrooms, it was easy to fall into this kind of religion — you improve, optimize, get things done, et voila, you are the winner. Sometimes, I have to admit, overattention to organizing does the reverse — it keeps you busy without much outcome. Form over matter. In any case, that’s where my writing about the things that make you feel at home come from — this particularity about some things that matter to me.

I haven’t felt a sharp need to organize in a while. Or, at least, I made small incremental improvements as I went, but I wasn’t spending so much time thinking about it. Until last week.

My good old Herschel backpack was getting less good and more old. And I started looking for a new one. I initially thought that I’d replace it with maybe a different color, and that’s all. But then, I thought, I often carry not even one but two water bottles with me (my own and my kid’s). It would be much more comfortable to have a backpack with at least one external bottle pocket. A simple request. And here’s where it all started. After a while, I was researching camera bags, external carry, learning a new abbreviation of EDC (not ‘eau de cologne’, but ‘everyday carry’), going as far as creating a comparison table of the backpacks that got into my shortlist.

Luckily, this project has been short, albeit intense. My research was good, but not too extensive. I looked into a few options, removed the ones that I didn’t like visually and chose from the ones that had the most features that mattered the most to me. I found something that looks like my ideal backpack, and ordered it. If it blows my mind as much in use as it did in its description, I might write about it sometime.

What do I want to say with this writing? I don’t know.

Maybe I want to share my surprise and excitement of finding a whole new realm of daily backpacks with enhancements and features. Technology isn’t limited to electronics and such, one can also find advancements in clothing and in everyday objects and in almost every sphere of life. Maybe I want to admire industrial design in its many forms. (I re-watched Objectified documentary about a year ago, when Hustwit made his films available for free when pandemics started). It’s impossible to notice all the changes that happen in the world, but everything moves on, and improves drastically. You have so many more options that what you think the defaults are.

Maybe I want to think about how you can choose between complexity (a space rocket of a backpack) and simplicity (a canvas bag with just one feature, being a bag) — and you can be happy with either of them. Depends on you.

Maybe I want to say that it all doesn’t even matter, and yet, there are so many games to play, if you want and can afford. You can pay attention to some things and disregard others. Your life, your games. Organic food or it doesn’t really matter? Latest phone model or whatever has internet? Obsessing over things is okay, I guess — as long as it’s something that doesn’t harm you or others and that you enjoy.

A few backpacks to get you started on this slippery slope if you’re curious about what I was looking at:

• Able Carry daily backpack
• Shadow by Black Ember
• Rennen by Boundary
• Peak Design everyday

I was playing chess today… So that you know, I’m a lousy chess player, I know the rules, but I never could play well, I never think through moves beyond the one I’m making, with its immediate implications. Being one of those people who never play consistently, only for a few months a long time ago as a kid, and then never again for years, I am far from considering myself even an amateur chess player. This is to give you a background into where I am in terms of chess.

I was playing chess today, as something interesting happened. I realized that somewhere along the road my paradigm shifted. Before, I would want to win; even when I thought I wouldn’t be able to, I still would have my mind set on the concept of playing to win. Now, the way I was making my moves, was to see what would come out. How far I can get, how risky I can play it. After all, not every game needs to be won. The one I played today (I lost), was about research and investigation. And — it was a far better game (by “better” I mean more interesting for me) than most of the games I play.

When you approach something with a mindset other than winning/failing, there is less stress, no pressure to win. It’s not your ultimate game of chess. It’s not your ultimate move that defines your life (I’m not talking about chess anymore, but almost anything in life). In a safe environment, it’s better to be grounded in exploration rather than winning. Curiosity is a far interesting field to play.

The most confusing experience comes from switching between different interfaces and input modes. I was working on a few little things at the same time, not in a focused mode, jumping from one to another.

What I had in front of me at the same time:

1. Notebook and a pen

2. MacBook

3. iPad + keyboard

A few things I was faced with:

– You can’t scroll a notebook page

– You can’t tap on the link on a MacBook (at least, the one that I have)

– Moving my finger on a desk space below the standalone keyboard (that I use with iPad) doesn’t work. (There’s no trackpad there)

Advice, kids: don’t do a million things at once.

Does the brain just gets confused, I wonder, or grows plasticity?

Why does someone have a need to “feel festive”? Where does this expectation come from, to dress up, and have fun, and be joyful? We know, we know. The social norms, the marketing, the traditions remixed by marketing. Yet, I found myself asking this, on a Christmas Eve, after getting dressed up (meaning out of my leggings and hoodie), dabbing a bit of perfume on my wrists, and making my hair to “go out”, which essentially meant to the bookstore, the only open non-grocery store.

I definitely didn’t have to impress anyone with my looks, now even less, with social contacts being minimized and all. What made me feel the need to dress up? Why look around for the symbols of the festivities? Why the sadness about the lack of decorations and happy (maybe slightly drunk) faces? After all, I have never been a huge fan of Christmas, or particularly needing ugly sweaters, tons of mulled wine, Frank Sinatra or other attributes. I wasn’t against them as such, just not paying too much attention. And generally, I don’t feel like I haven’t had festive moments lately. Just maybe not on-cue ones.

Perhaps, it’s the social animal in me — the extroverted part that lives alongside the caved introvert — that wants to mingle with people, that’s very much looking forward to the post-lockdown times when we can all go to concerts and rub shoulders with others literally. Perhaps, holidays like Christmas have their social aspect both in the much-feared family reunions, and in the the town festivities like Christmas markets where you can just be among people. For someone like me, who likes and needs solitude to live and breathe, it’s also strange to find an extroverted slice of my soul that is suddenly craving the atmosphere, the holiday crowd.

I’m wondering if, when we all can go out and gather on the streets, and mingle, if the fashion is going to take a turn toward the more festive, the more crazy one. Sequins, colors, crazy hatter fashion — just because we have lounged in our sweatpants for too long. Another possibility is that loungewear will have become so much the norm by then, that we won’t be likely to exchange for anything more luxurious yet less comfortable. Wear only something you wouldn’t mind sleeping in. Time will tell. So far, the only clothes I bought were sports, lounge, and a long sleeveless dress in hope of the future in which I have somewhere to wear it.

Is there going to be a replacement for being in a noisy bar, or at a rock concert?

Have been reading a few things that seemingly have to promote my writing (or any project work, for that matter). Paul Graham writes specifically about writing usefully.

To write like he does means to follow the path of a very good essay writing. It is very demanding. Which is a worthy mindset. Holding yourself to very high standards, and only put something out there in the world that has been deemed useful, and of the best quality one is capable of. But to write well, one needs practice. To get practice, one needs to write a lot. While Graham’s view is that one only must write something that is useful, strong, and truthful. This is my constant struggle: writing something that is just “meh”, whatever comes, getting the words and the sentences and the paragraphs out, strength in numbers. Or writing scarcely and powerfully. As with everything, there needs to be a delicate balance. (Here, for example, this text is a perfect example of meh writing, something very vague.)

Getting the numbers out on the page or the screen is very meditative, and is more a practice with a focus on itself rather than the result. Essay writing is different, it’s purposeful. I write without focus, without purpose, for what it’s worth. If I want to do it differently, I need to find a theme, and pursue it strongly. However, my interest (at this moment) is all the curiosities of life, and my own observations.

I don’t know whether there can be a balance of scarce/strong and abundant. All I know is that to write better, it is necessary to write. At the level of greatness, of true writing mastery, there’s a marriage of strength and abundance. But first, one just needs to write.

The latest Seth Godin’s book (Is it his latest? It’s hard to tell, the guy writes a lot) is called “Practice”. It is, like all his books, a big and lengthy pat on the back. Whatever you set your mind on, do it. There will be, and is, an audience. There is the need for art, there is everything — just transform your motivation into practice of doing art and building your skill one step at a time, day by day.

On the inside, the ideas of Paul Graham and Seth Godin don’t contradict each other. They both talk about practice, and while one can doubt whether or not practice makes perfect, there’s certainty around practice building skills. And practice is what I’ll do.

I’d like to close this off with one of my favorite quotes, from J.D. Salinger’s “Franny and Zooey”:

“Act, Zachary Martin Glass, when and where you want to, since you feel you must, but do it with all your might.”