There has to be a balance between cozy content and comforting distractions, and staying aware of what’s happening. It can’t be all doom-scrolling and breaking news, but it also can’t be pretending nothing exists outside of soft blankets, baking videos, and aesthetic routines. On another note, my soft blanket, which I keep at my desk at all times, is currently in the wash. So, I don’t have a blanket with me right now.
Our brains are wired to latch onto negative information. Bad news feels urgent. It pulls at us. It convinces us that if we just read one more article, watch one more clip, refresh one more time, we’ll somehow be more prepared. But too much of that, and everything starts to feel heavy and hopeless.
It’s strange because I remember when “information” mostly came from newspapers, magazines, the radio, and the evening news, and that felt completely normal. It was limited, scheduled, and finite. You got your update, folded the paper, turned off the TV, and went on with your life. And I felt fine with that.
Now it feels like we’re uncomfortable without a constant stream of updates. There’s this subtle anxiety if we’re not refreshing, scrolling, checking. As if being slightly uninformed for a few hours means we’re behind or missing something important. The silence that used to feel peaceful now sometimes feels like a gap that needs to be filled.
It’s odd how quickly “constant access” turned into “constant necessity.”
On the other hand, it’s easy to be drawn completely into cozy corners of the internet, slow living vlogs, book hauls, fall ambience playlists, and cute cat videos. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Honestly, bless the people who film “clean with me” videos with soft piano music.) However, if we choose to only exist in that space, we risk becoming disconnected or numb to reality.
Perhaps the balance resembles intentional awareness. Checking in on the news instead of living inside it. Choosing when and how we consume it, instead of letting it choose us. Letting ourselves care, without letting it consume every ounce of mental space.
And then, just as intentionally, choosing comfort. Choosing warmth. Choosing things that remind us life is still made up of small, good moments: coffee rituals, cozy sweaters, snow falling, a cat on the desk.
I guess it’s about being informed and still protecting your peace.
And in other news, I made the bold and reckless decision to eat one single Babybel cheese that Kel bought… and now I am experiencing what can only be described as a hunger awakening.
I was a little hungry before. Just a polite, well-mannered hunger. A whisper. Now? Now it’s a full-blown protest. Signs. Marching. Chants.
I have an hour before I can eat. An hour. Sixty whole minutes. Why did I do this? Why did I poke the bear with a wax-covered dairy disk?
I mean, I know why. I was a little hungry. I thought, “Oh, I’ll just have something small.” But apparently, my stomach interprets “something small” as “Ah, yes, we are preparing for a feast. Alert the troops.”
This is why the tiny snack is dangerous. It doesn’t solve the hunger. It insults it. And then hunger retaliates.
I really need to stop the little in-between snacking if I want this weight loss thing to cooperate. Though, to be fair, I’ve lost a pound a day over the last three days. Which feels slightly dramatic. I assume my body is just releasing water and being theatrical about it. But I’ll take it.
Still. One Babybel. That’s all it took to unleash chaos. Next time I either commit to a real meal… or I leave the tiny cheese alone to live its peaceful, waxy life.
People on the internet are making analog bags. What is an analog bag, you ask? It is, apparently, a tote filled with analog items: physical books, paper journals, knitting, art supplies, maybe a crossword puzzle book if you’re feeling particularly 1997. Basically, it’s a bag of things that do not light up, ping, vibrate, or silently judge you for your screen time.
The idea is that when you leave the house, instead of defaulting to mindlessly scrolling your phone into another dimension, you reach into your magical analog satchel and, ta da!, you pull out a book. Or yarn. Or a pen that will absolutely leak on your fingers. And suddenly you are a whimsical forest creature who reads poetry at cafés instead of checking notifications every three minutes.
It sounds lovely. Romantic, even. Very “main character energy but make it pre-WiFi.”
It almost sounds like something I would do.
Except… I already live a fairly analog life. I journal in an actual paper journal. I read physical books. I use a fountain pen and inevitably end up with ink on at least one finger like a Victorian scholar who just finished drafting a very emotional letter. I don’t need to curate my analog existence into a single aesthetic tote because my whole house is basically an analog bag.
Also, I do not own a tote suitable for such a lifestyle transformation. Which feels like a barrier. Not a real barrier. But a barrier nonetheless.
But really, I think the funniest part is that we now need a bag system to remind ourselves to do what humans have done for thousands of years: sit down and make something with our hands. Read words on paper. Think thoughts without a glowing rectangle nearby.
I support the movement, though. If it helps people put their phones down and pick up knitting needles (Which, by the way, I still need to start crocheting), I’m all for it.
But I still love my techy stuff too. I mean… I’m not out here churning my own butter by candlelight. I have limits.
I love my phone. It’s basically my second brain. It remembers appointments, tracks my steps, holds 47 screenshots I’ll “need later,” and lets me Google things like, “Why does my cat stare at the wall at 3 a.m.?” It’s a tiny glowing rectangle of chaos and convenience.
And my Kindle? Pure magic. Thousands of books in something thinner than a single paperback. I can read in the dark, change the font size when my eyes decide they’re tired of cooperating, and pretend I’m extremely intellectual while still reading dramatic fiction.
Then there’s my computer. My loyal, occasionally dramatic companion. The same machine that sometimes refuses to turn on after the power glitches… but also lets me write, study, code, and fall down extremely specific research rabbit holes. It’s both my productivity hub and my procrastination headquarters.
So yes, I love cozy things and analog rituals. But I also deeply appreciate pressing a button and having the world appear. I contain multitudes. And charging cables. Lots and lots of charging cables.
Speaking of charging cables… Kel has apparently decided that my charging cables are now our charging cables. She just casually plugs her stuff in like we co-own the power grid. I suppose it’s only fair, sometimes I borrow her watch charger since I don’t actually have a place to plug in my watch charger.
So yes, sharing is caring… unless I also need to charge my own things at the exact same time. Then it becomes a silent, internal standoff. No words are spoken. Just quiet cable territorial tension.
I do have a brand-new charging station still sitting in its box, waiting for its debut when my new desk is done. It feels very “new office, new era.” My current charging hub is ancient in tech years. It only has USB ports. No USB-C. No flair. It’s basically the flip phone of charging hubs. I’m not even sure I’ll use it once the new one is set up. It may be retired with quiet dignity to the “random cords” bag. Yes, I don’t have an analog bag, but I do have a tech bag full of random cables and tech stuff. It’s a Hello Kitty bag.
Anyway. I should probably get back to studying. It’s almost lunchtime, which means my brain is about to start thinking exclusively in terms of food instead of productivity.
Okay, I had lunch. Kel bought those pre-made salad bowls from Walmart and accidentally bought too many, so she gave one to me.
I deconstructed it, of course. I poured it into a real bowl, added tomato, avocado, and cucumber. I skipped the dressing that came with it because who knows what calorie chaos was hiding in that tiny plastic packet. Instead, I used the dressing from the fridge.
It was actually really good.
Now I’m sipping on a Coke Zero and thinking of music I can put on.
And now, back to studying. Today’s topic: the different types of hackers. From what I’ve gathered, not all hackers wear hoodies in dark basements. Some of them are ethical. Some are chaotic. Some are just trying to prove a point. It’s like learning about the personality types of the internet.
Alright. Time to re-enter student mode.
The nice thing about it being so nice outside is that the dogs can actually stay out and play for a while. Merlin and Everest are having the best time out there. It’s in the 50s right now, which feels pretty warm for this time of year.
Of course, it’s supposed to rain, and maybe even snow, on Friday. I don’t think we’ll get much snow, though. It’s warm enough that it probably won’t stick, even if the temperature dips later. For now, I’m just enjoying this little stretch of mild weather while it lasts. I’m kind of hoping it will get warmer so we can work on my desk. Stain and polyurethane won’t dry when it’s this cold out.
I did a very small load of laundry today because Tommy needed a shirt washed. So now I have to go put clothes away, laundry truly is the chore that never ends. I studied for a few hours and read about different types of hackers and the ways they operate, through email scams, SMS messages, phishing websites, and all sorts of social engineering. There’s so much terminology to remember that I’m really glad I write everything down. Being able to go back and review the terms makes it feel less overwhelming.
I’m not sure what we’re having for dinner tonight. We’ve been fending for ourselves the last two nights, so I doubt that’s the plan again. I guess I’ll find out soon enough.
I feel like I rambled a bit today, but maybe that’s okay. Not every day has to be neatly packaged and profound. Some days are just laundry, cybersecurity, and wondering about dinner.
I’m going to make myself some tea. I’ve been debating whether I should have a snack, although there’s not much in the house anyway, since we don’t usually buy snack foods. I have about 720 calories left for dinner, which feels like a lot. I don’t think I could eat that much in one sitting, even if I tried. Sometimes I wonder if I’m eating enough healthy foods. I’d love to have more fruit, but then I second-guess it because of the sugar. Though realistically, fruit sugar isn’t the same as eating candy, and it does come with fiber and nutrients.
Anyway, tea first. Then clothes.
