The pitfalls of forcing a habit
It's funny how the mind works, and how simply the way you think about the abstract makes it take an entirely different form.
In all candour, this blog was birthed out of a somewhat negative time and space in my brain. It was a new year, and I was increasingly unhappy and dissatisfied (and, admittedly, anxious) by the way my life was shaping up to be. I was in a less-than-ideal job, and on the verge of moving to a new city almost purely because it was cheaper than staying put.
Back in my old city, my life as I'd known it had devolved into this... diminutive being that I hardly recognised. As a student, I'd had quite a rich set of days—studying, coding, dawdling with my friends, or doing martial arts. The end of my degree saw me move out of the place I called home for a year, saw my friends scatter to the wind, and provided me no access to my gym. Work became overbearing, and I no longer had the time or the energy to give to doing things I truly loved. The world inside my room was confined to my screens, and the one outside to the limits of my chores. It felt like moving to a new city would only make it worse.
And thus was born ishiat-writes. In these throes of dejection and acquiescence, I thought the only way to break out of the soulless pit I'd dug myself into was to force the habit of an old hobby onto me—and a blog to hold myself accountable. It made perfect sense in the beginning, but the pursuit of knowledge isn't one that can be thrust upon you. It was a bad idea.
It hasn't been all doom and gloom, however. Moving to Sheffield was, incidentally, quite the step up. At the very least, I found a boxing gym—and the people there have begun to recognise me now! I live in a nice little place, and I started spending more time with my friends from India. I got back into reading, and read a dozen light novels in the past 45 days. I'm doing some research on the side, and I now have a personal website that I'm actively trying to build and expand. My days are full.
Full enough to not find the time to blog.
I turned 23 very, very recently, and on the eve of my birthday, I decided to think of all the things I felt bad about in my life as it currently is, and why it was so/what I could do to change it. This isn't something I do on the regular, just something I felt spurred into mulling about. This blog was quite high on the admittedly short list, and it dawned on me that it was because I'd been forcing myself to a cycle of read, learn, think, write, repeat. A habit, quite contrary to the impulse I wanted it to be. It stuck out like a dislocated limb, a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit into what I called life anymore. It almost made me resent what I'd built as a blog: it was time for a bit of a radical revamp. I realised that while I'd been a downer about my life, how akin to an empty husk it felt, I'd also, slowly but surely, filled it with things that brought me joy—and I hadn't seen this until I sat back and took stock of it.
This isn't to say trying to blog was an exercise in futility. It led me to things I wanted to read. It gave me something to do when my life was, in fact, as empty as it had felt. It gave me access to somewhat of a community away from mainstream social media, something I had been seeking. But to fully access it, be happy with it, love it, I had to get out of my own head.
And so, I'm stepping away from "Reading Things". This isn't to say I want to stop blogging, or writing about science I find cool: I still have some very big thoughts. It just means I stop trying to do a blog a day, or force a habit of critical thinking and writing. I'm now closer to frontal lobe development.