I just noticed something. My study habits are almost completely analog. Pen. Paper. Highlighters. Maybe a sticky note if I’m feeling wild. The only time I invite the digital world into my study routine is when I need a deeper explanation of a term or concept, like when I was looking up more details about SQL injection and XSS yesterday. Other than that, it’s just me and my notebook. I guess that’s another layer to my half-analog life.
It’s interesting because I’m studying cybersecurity, very digital, very technical, and yet I process it all in such a tactile way. I write everything out by hand. Definitions. Examples. Arrows connecting ideas. Little side notes in the margins. There’s something about physically forming the letters that helps the concepts stick. It slows me down in a good way. It forces me to think instead of just transcribing.
I’ve considered typing my notes. It would probably look cleaner. More organized. Searchable. But when I imagine doing it, it feels… flat. When I type, I tend to copy information quickly without really absorbing it. When I write by hand, I naturally summarize. I rephrase. I compress the idea into something that makes sense in my own words. That process feels like real studying.
It also feels grounding. With everything else being digital, coding, researching, and logging into platforms, there’s something calming about paper. No notifications. No tabs. No distractions. Just ink and thought.
It’s actually a really nice day out today. The dogs are outside, absolutely thriving, living their best chaotic, sun-soaked lives, while I’m in here studying. Not that studying is a punishment. I genuinely enjoy it. I do enjoy reading through cybersecurity concepts and slowly understanding how all the pieces fit together. It feels like solving puzzles that someone else built.
The dogs were inside earlier, but Karissa took one look at the sunshine and declared it illegal for them to remain indoors. “It’s too nice out there for them to be inside,” she said. And yes, she’s right. They’re probably sprinting around as they’ve just been released into freedom after a long winter exile.
We are, however, out of coffee. This is tragic. Deeply tragic. I do have coffee-flavored candy, which feels like a polite suggestion of coffee rather than actual coffee. It’s like the idea of caffeine without the commitment. Not the same. I’ll survive, though. I’m going to make myself some matcha in a bit and pretend I meant to switch things up all along.
Alexis went out with her friend and brought a book with her, which made me smile. How very Rory Gilmore of her, prepared for spontaneous reading at any moment. Alex is at school, so it’s just Karissa and me here right now.
The house is so quiet. No barking, no overlapping conversations, no background noise from three different rooms. Just stillness. I have put on music through the computer’s speakers since it would not bother anyone. Karissa is mostly deaf, so she can’t hear the music unless she comes into the office. I’m listening to 90s alternative hits.
I have a few Coke Zeros left, so I’m saving those for dinner. I like having a Coke Zero with my dinner. But for me, it’s not just a preference; it actually helps.
I have a narrow esophagus, an esophageal stricture, caused by years of chronic acid reflux. So sometimes food doesn’t go down as smoothly as it should. It can feel like it just… pauses. Carbonation helps with that. So while other people might reach for a soda just because they want it, I’m strategically rationing mine like a tiny dinner assistant. If I run out of Coke Zero, I usually reach for Kel’s sparkling water. While the carbonation helps. The taste is well, eh.
I made myself some matcha tea. There’s something calming about whisking it, watching the powder dissolve into that soft green, and feeling the warmth of the mug in my hands. Because I’m cold right now, I need something warm.
Should we start a sentence with “because”? I’ve always thought it was improper, something teachers would circle in red ink. It feels wrong somehow. But language isn’t quite that rigid, is it? And in a journal, especially, maybe the rules don’t have to matter so much.
It’s just about time for me to post my journal. I don’t have much more to say, though. Today felt quiet in a lot of ways. Not bad. Not dramatic. Of course, I didn’t talk about much either, so maybe that’s part of it. Some days are like that; they don’t come with big reflections or deep revelations. They just pass steadily, hour by hour.
So I’ll finish my matcha, let the warmth settle in, and call it a day.
