Category: Reflections

When you don’t know what to make of something, you either give it time to let it sink in your mind, or you come up with some label that partially describes it. It’s like watching a movie that is nebulous and nonlinear and doesn’t have a clear ending, or like reading a story that has many subplots and tangents that you’re trying to piece together, but you’re not sure how they do.

You know the work is something that you haven’t seen/read before, and you can’t quite compare it with anything to memory. You’re not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing either. All you know is that you don’t know what to make of it.

But after a time, you realize that whether it’s good or bad, or something you liked or not, it stayed with you, made you think about it. And maybe that was the point.

There’ll be times when I’ll come up with an idea and implement it briefly, only to realize afterward that it was only a half measure attempt. I’ll lose interest within a week (maybe even a day), although the idea itself was much more exciting on the surface.

It’ll be one of those “it sounds like a great idea” goal, when in fact, the effort and time required to accomplish that goal isn’t backed by the motive and willpower to do so.

In life, we change our minds frequently, and have to experiment with different ways or systems of going about things. Even our goals can be half measures if we’re not fully invested in them. We like the ends, of what they can bring us, but the work to get there isn’t something that interests us, at least, for the long haul.

But when we find goals that are we committed to and aren’t just half measures, then it won’t even seem like we’re just checking off boxes to accomplish them, but we’ll go above and beyond to get them done, and even, accomplish more than what we originally thought was possible.

Going through the lessons of life is like going through the seasons. They change us from within, and we evolve and grow from the experiences. We come out a little different after each one, seeing the world through a modified lens.

After I’ve gone through a trial or a tough experience, I tend to look back on it. Although each person will view their experiences differently, my overall outlook is: what can I take away from them?

Each of us go through a variety of challenging experiences, and sometimes they can seem almost random, coincidental or like a chain of events that have accumulated to its logical conclusion. But after they occur, I normally reflect on what happened to see how I could’ve reacted or proceeded differently. Often times, I will find a better way that I could have, because, as the saying goes, hindsight is 20/20.

But more than that, I realize that my knowledge and experience of the world is limited, restricted to a particular time and place in the universe. With each new experience, I’m improving in some way, whether that be in terms of knowledge, character, or in understanding how things are, how things work, revealing how little I knew to begin with.

We all handle new situations differently. For me, I have to process it before I respond or react in a way that I think is the most optimal. For some, they react as if they know what to do instantly, as if it’s intuitive or second nature to them.

It depends on the situation of course. It could be one where we have to give a talk in front of a large group, or where we have to be in charge and be the leader in a new and unfamiliar situation. Or it could be going to a social gathering where we don’t know anyone. Depending on our experience and personality determines whether we will start striking conversations with people at random or feel awkward and want to leave.

But the more new situations we come across in our lifetime, and the more we experiences we have, we will start to build a toolkit of dos and don’ts and hows for various situations, which is our go-to when new situations arises.

There are times when it’s easy to focus, and other times where I feel like my brain is scattered and all over the place. When I’m focused, it’s like my mind is on a mission, and nothing can distract me no matter how noisy everything else is. But when I’m unfocused, it’s as if every little thing grabs my attention, where my focus can easily shift at a moment’s notice.

One thing I do to recalibrate my focus is to create a list of goals. I then prioritize which I will accomplish first, and the steps I will need to take. It’s as if the motor of mind is waiting for some direction, and the only way to put it into gear is to have an action plan in place.

If not, I will be lost, aimlessly drifting from one thing to the next. But sometimes my mind will naturally recalibrate itself when an unexpected situation arises. For example, if something suddenly needs to be repaired or fixed, or if I’m inspired to write a story or novel.

The habits that are continuous happen out of necessity: eating, sleeping, working, waking up, etc. But the ones we’d like to be continuous, such as our pursuits, can often be discontinuous, despite our best efforts to keep them consistent. For me, that can be writing or reading daily, and for someone else, it can be painting, drawing, composing music, etc.

That discontinuity can happen for a number of reasons: losing interest, a change in schedule, pursuing/learning a new skill, etc. It can also be the result of burn out, exhaustion, or simply needing rest. But without that discontinuity, a pursuit can end up being dull and humdrum rather than one that stems from excitement or curiosity.

It’s why we can look forward to the weekend after a long week of work, or want to take a vacation after months of work, or learn/try something new. Continuity is good for honing talents and skills, but without discontinuity, our pursuit can end up being unexciting and mechanical in a way in which it’s no longer creative or exciting. It’s like taking a break from a novel/story after writing it for weeks or months. Once a writer returns to it, they see it again anew.

Being ahead of schedule gives us a sense of relief, a feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment. It eases the pressure of having to finish our deadlines by the nick of time, not to mention, easing our worries about falling behind. It allows us to relax and to work at our own pace, to go above and beyond our current goals, since we’re already ahead.

But the time, energy, and work we have to put in to reach that point can be arduous and tiring. It’s like running at full speed during a race, and once we realize that we’re ahead–by a wide margin even–we can start to slow down, breathe, albeit, for a short time. At that point, we can begin to pace ourselves, to not be so tense about the race as we make it to the finish line.

Being ahead of schedule allows us to plan for our next projects, and gives us the option to wrap up our current project sooner, assuming that we continue at the same pace we were at. Being ahead of schedule gives us the breathing room to explore other ideas that we haven’t delved into, and to improve upon our ideas as well. When we’re ahead of schedule, it’s like having more space freed up in our minds for dormant ideas to take shape, and to take notice of what we’ve long forgotten or had once dreamed of starting, but didn’t have the time to do.

In this day and age of twenty-four seven news, social media posts, texting, etc., I can’t help but notice editing mistakes wherever I look. I’ll see things like the letter “I” not capitalized when used as the subject in a sentence; I’ll see typos and misspellings when these mistakes could’ve been fixed if the writer had reread the sentence once; I’ll see words dropped from sentences, the wrong word usage, and run-on sentences with no punctuation, which will read like someone was trying to say something in the span of a paragraph in one breath.

But when we compare this type of writing to published books, it gives a different experience for the reader. Whether it’s a novel or a non-fiction book, they have to be carefully edited to be taken seriously (and to be read for a great length of time). They have to be double checked, triple checked, and reread and rewritten multiple times before they’re even published. It’s a far cry compared to reading something that’s posted online, which might’ve been written in a few seconds, then posted.

The amount of time and effort we put into our writing matters when we want to make a strong impression and leave a lasting impression on the reader. Thus, if I see typos and grammar mistakes galore, I won’t take the prose seriously since the editor in me will automatically come out and want to fix everything. The point didn’t come across as it was intended, since there were flaws in the delivery. Ultimately, it’s a matter of quantity versus quality, and which we value more in how we approach writing and what we choose to read.

I cannot count how many times I’ve misplaced items, only to find them weeks or months later just by accident. It’s as if I think I’ll remember where I’ve put an item the moment I put it away, such as in a drawer or in a box, only to forget about it later when I’m trying to find it.

It just turns up after I’ve already bought something to replace it, or it turns up when I happen to be organizing or looking for other things. I realize that when I put something somewhere I think I’ll remember it, it’s not done on an organizational level, but on the assumption that I’ll use it again very soon. But that assumption won’t hold for very long, since new situations come up daily, and soon, I’ll forget about that item.

And even if I organize everything and keep things tidy and neat, my assumption of where things should be will continue to change as I improve upon the preexisting model of organization. It’s like organizing is a work in progress, something that is organic rather than fixed and constant, since our shelves, drawers and bins can fill up quickly, and we need to make more space to organize our things, or the organizational system we had had become inadequate, since it needs to be adapted to practical daily use.

When we’re in the habit of carrying out the same routine, it’s one that we’ve become conditioned to, one that has become automatic: done without thought. This can apply when we’re driving home from work, but we only notice how automatic it has become when we have to make a detour, say, at a store. Sometimes we might unintentionally drive passed it without realizing we’ve done so, since we’ve become so accustomed to driving passed it on the way home. Or we might notice it when we’re cooking and we want to try out a new recipe, but we end up same meal anyway. It’s only after the meal is cooked that we realize we forgot to add in different ingredients, or to change the quantity of salt, sugar, etc.

Autopilot is perhaps a survival mechanism, a way for our brains to conserve energy while performing a repeated task so that we don’t drain it by thinking about every step of the process, since we’ve done it a hundred or a thousand times. In the modern world, autopilot has applied itself toward the routines and habits aforementioned, such as driving, cooking, as well as doing chores, and the tasks at our jobs.

It’s only when we deviate from the beaten path that we notice how often we’ve been on autopilot (or that particular routine). It’s like a shock to the system, a surprise to the senses, since deviations from routines are a break from the familiar, the ordinary.

It makes us wonder if we’re on autopilot all the time, or at least, most of the time, and how regular and patterned our world has become through technology and a time-centered outlook. Have we become so accustomed to day-to-day routines that we’re operating on autopilot since it’s convenient and familiar, or is it that the schedules that we’ve planned for the week are more conducive to operating on autopilot? Is it the case that being on autopilot is necessary for survival? Could it also be the case that when we’re bored or need variation and change (i.e. traveling to new places, setting new goals, etc.), that we begin to deviate from the beaten path?