I’m sitting at my desk and looking out the window, fascinated by the way the pouring rain leaves droplets on the leaves of the tree outside, like crystals on a green velvet dress. And then just as rapidly as it started, the rain comes to a complete halt—matching the state of my progress on writing today. The act of writing is often slow and tedious as I look for the words and clarity that can capture the essence of the thought on paper. In these moments of frustration, I catch myself getting restless instead of reflecting. It feels unnatural to just sit here and let these time intervals wash over. I’m not being maximally and tangibly productive when I have the capacity to get so many other things done during these seemingly inert hours.
On surviving in the age of distraction
On surviving in the age of distraction
On surviving in the age of distraction
I’m sitting at my desk and looking out the window, fascinated by the way the pouring rain leaves droplets on the leaves of the tree outside, like crystals on a green velvet dress. And then just as rapidly as it started, the rain comes to a complete halt—matching the state of my progress on writing today. The act of writing is often slow and tedious as I look for the words and clarity that can capture the essence of the thought on paper. In these moments of frustration, I catch myself getting restless instead of reflecting. It feels unnatural to just sit here and let these time intervals wash over. I’m not being maximally and tangibly productive when I have the capacity to get so many other things done during these seemingly inert hours.