Author: Nick Kempinski

What do you do everyday?

I came across this Photo Of The Day project, via fstoppers, which spanned 18 years of one mans life. I was moved by the story, amazed that one photo showed the dynamic range of life, and ultimately saddened from the last photo’s documenting his death.

I struggle with repetition and patterns. Always have.

I’m sure there’s some sort of child-like fight internally happening. Probably a neurological neighbour that still makes my face cringe as an adult while trying to eat my veggies.

I’ve tried various things to create routine. I see the importance and the power of it. And yet when I try, it slips through my fingers ( And, no. 20 days does not make a habit. I’ve had things I’ve done longer vanish ). It’s like this unconscious struggle telling me “No, no. You did that yesterday, so how’s about you don’t do that today.”

No solutions here

I have no solutions today. Just a comment and a question. How do you get yourself to do something every day?

It takes work but you can take a pile of shit and turn it into anything else. It’s a matter of perspective. I think there are a few key ways of looking at it to change your outlook.

The arrow of time.

Past: I can’t believe this shit happened to me
Future: Shit Happens. Wipe it off.

Looking ahead. I’ve always thought it’s not about the mess, the trouble or the mistake. It’s how you get out of it.

The arrow of centricity

Inward: Ahhhhh, Fuck me!
Outward: You can go fuck yourself!

Probably not the best example, but the concept being “the world is happening to me” vs. “I’m making my world.”

The arrow of size

Smaller: All I found was a dollar
Bigger: Think of all the penny candies I can buy with this dollar!

Size is what you make of it. This can be done with time, or money, or anything. When it’s important, you make it bigger. [ yes, there’s a sex joke in there, but I’ll let you say the words ]

The arrow of open..ness..ness??

Closed: Can I have a car?
Open: What kind of car can I have?

Ok… the metaphor might be stretching a bit thin, but I think I’m making my point. It’s all in the words we choose. Take a look at your tweets and facebook posts. Take a read though the posts of people you intently read and through the ones you actively avoid.

Pay attention to these arrows.

Perhaps it might change your perspective.

Here’s my curious side. The one that loves Exploration and New.

Sometimes you have to force “new”. It’s not going to come on a shelf with neon signs pointing at it. It’s not going to have that amazing little red star like dot, and it might not even have the words “new” anywhere in sight. You have to find it, and make it.

It’s messy and sometimes leaves an awful taste. You can look back at the effort of trying as a disgusting waste of time and energy. But, it’s a story, an adventure. [ Insert quote about journey’s and change here ].

Now, here’s my other side that says Fuck that.

In amidst all the chaos of life: the commutes, the deadlines, the bills, family/friends, drama – It’s impossible to expect anyone to make “new”? When I shut down the most, chaos is making me it’s bitch. So don’t go to “new” – go to “easy”.

Puke out the same old drab you did yesterday. Leave a turd on the doorstep of the world filled with meaningless metaphors. Look back at it and say it’s the shittiest thing you’ve ever done.

But it’s done.

You did something.

Yes, I get these. I usually keep’em locked away. Not here. Here I should be able to wear my inner black shirt.

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where is this island, this thought?
to find the shore i’ll seek its waves, the ripples
as it moves about like a weighted freighter
spewing rusted ruffage, powdery rouge
that red whale! for others white
and when my toes can bleed across its shores
i’ll finally break it down, smelt it, smash it to the deep
watch it writhe as it drowns, caked in its own vomit
i’ll do the back stroke above a watery grave
looking to the blue sky and whistling with a smile
the sound of silence, of wind, of breath
a calm night to finally rest my shoulders on.

It’s nice that introverts are getting more attention.

In the recent slew was this one from the Huffington Post about signs of introverts. Here are the ones that most jumped out at me:

• You go to parties -– but not to meet people.
• Downtime doesn’t feel unproductive to you.
• Giving a talk in front of 500 people is less stressful than having to mingle with those people afterwards.
• When you get on the subway, you sit at the end of the bench — not in the middle.
• You’re in a relationship with an extrovert.

There are, of course, more that I connect with than others. And yes, one or two that I don’t think relate to me at all. Either way – sounds pretty damn

I forget too much. If yesterday I thought too much, today I’ve forgotten all about the sad things I thought about and am left with a clean slate to think about them again. I have thousands of empty notebooks waiting to be filled. I have tried check-in apps and logs, but again the root is forgetting. Even an alarm doesn’t seem to work, either:

a) I don’t set it, or
b) it goes off, I see it, get distracted, and forgot it went off.

A bit of a chasing my own tail scenario I’ve got going. If I come up with a sense of purpose and passion – and Idea of where I want to go next, by the next day – it’s drifted and forgotten.

Things… the things that I surround myself seem to be like little Harry Potter like talismans, storing memories. Like the pen I use, the coffee cup I drink from. The desk and chair I sit at. The room that’s just for work.

Habitual patterns… habit seems to help. If by chance I do something enough, then it starts to trigger a pattern, and that pattern triggers a memory. Like hours studying at home transitions well to working from home. When I went back to school I wrote more notes than I ever did the first time round and interestingly enough, although my personal journals are empty – my work journals are stacking up – all full.

Things & habits. Habits & things.

Fuck I hope I remember this tomorrow – wait, I will!

I have a problem of thinking too much – it’s sad really. No, really, it makes me sad. Add that to the fact that I work from home, alone, the majority of time, in a small town, and I’ve got a deadly combination.

Doing things can break that. Making things can break that. Running can break that. Playing piano can break that. Human contact can break that. Making a pile of mash potatoes can break that.

Anything but “thinking”.

A Concise Mind

I recently had an opportunity to hang around brilliant folks in their fields. Mainly it was wine and food – and ooooohhhhh such good wine and ammmmmazing food.

But there was something to their brilliance which had me think about this little quote.

“If I had more time, I would have written a shorter letter.”

Misquoted as a bunch of old guys

Excluding the non-verbal aspect of tasting the fruits of their talents – when I spoke with them, they easily got me to grasp what they did. No fancy language, not bells and whistles, no references to 18th century chefs & techniques that didn’t mean anything to me.

They had taken the time and could write a shorter letter.

Perhaps the leaders of tomorrow should remember that. Perhaps we’re already heading there with the infinite blogs and content creators leveraging skimming behaviours, smaller paragraphs and brevity to stand out in the crowd.

Perhaps it’s a tone we’re getting used to and looking for the more we head into a tribal state.