The other day, I wrote a note about how I couldn’t care less for the early bird lifestyle I’d been clinging to for the past couple of months. But I won’t be posting it here. Instead, I found myself once again reflecting on how my habits define me. The way of life, built over decades, shapes me to such an extent that, in some cases, decisively trying to change just one thing inevitably alters much else -sometimes even things I hadn’t planned to touch. Moreover, it often turns out that sensible, rational impulses transform life so profoundly that continuing with old routines as before becomes, let’s say, challenging. People of a certain age are often unable to shift their perspectives, let alone overhaul their entire way of living. It seems many inevitably calcify, growing attached - whether to objects, people, or their own folly. Try unraveling that tangle just to quit smoking. Or simply break yourself down and rebuild something that might differ radically from the previous version - and not necessarily for the better. Why, how, and is such a choice even worth it? The answer, whatever it may be, demands taking on a certain responsibility. Is it a matter of weakness or a question of choice? I recall David Lynch's story about trying therapy: “I once went to a psychotherapist. Things in my life had started happening, repeating regularly, and I decided, ‘That’s it, I need therapy.’ Entering the office, I asked the doctor, ‘Do you think this process could harm my creativity?’ He replied, ‘Well, David, I’ll be honest, it might.’ I shook his hand and left.” So, once again, I shake hands with all the melatonin devotees. But we’re not saying goodbye. Hello darkness, my old friend. May 2, 2025. mixed ai, jpeg, 7043x5000.

May 10, 2025. mixed ai, jpeg, 7000x6006.

The other day, I wrote a note about how I couldn’t care less for the early bird lifestyle I’d been clinging to for the past couple of months. But I won’t be posting it here. Instead, I found myself once again reflecting on how my habits define me. The way of life, built over decades, shapes me to such an extent that, in some cases, decisively trying to change just one thing inevitably alters much else -sometimes even things I hadn’t planned to touch. Moreover, it often turns out that sensible, rational impulses transform life so profoundly that continuing with old routines as before becomes, let’s say, challenging. People of a certain age are often unable to shift their perspectives, let alone overhaul their entire way of living. It seems many inevitably calcify, growing attached - whether to objects, people, or their own folly. Try unraveling that tangle just to quit smoking. Or simply break yourself down and rebuild something that might differ radically from the previous version - and not necessarily for the better. Why, how, and is such a choice even worth it? The answer, whatever it may be, demands taking on a certain responsibility. Is it a matter of weakness or a question of choice? I recall David Lynch's story about trying therapy: “I once went to a psychotherapist. Things in my life had started happening, repeating regularly, and I decided, ‘That’s it, I need therapy.’ Entering the office, I asked the doctor, ‘Do you think this process could harm my creativity?’ He replied, ‘Well, David, I’ll be honest, it might.’ I shook his hand and left.” So, once again, I shake hands with all the melatonin devotees. But we’re not saying goodbye. Hello darkness, my old friend. May 2, 2025. mixed ai, jpeg, 7043x5000.