A rare kind of exhaustion…

Another day of running around. I got too little done this time: my time came in fragments, and the work felt just as pieced together. Still, I wrote down my ideas and did what could be done promptly. Taking a break now is fine.

A few days into my “fasting experiment,” I seem to have accidentally quit coffee. Not literally—I have just stopped drinking it without restraint. It is afternoon, when I would normally make a cup, but the thought of getting up to pour one does not appeal. My stomach has already said no. I can imagine how uncomfortable I would feel if I drank it, so I give up without much of a fight.

That is probably good, and it saves money. Am I missing chances to enjoy good food and drink? Of course. I can live with that.

Think of other “wonderful experiences”: staying up all night scrolling Douyin and eating snacks. Does it feel good? Absolutely—much better in the moment than reading in bed. But the morning afterward is miserable, and when I look back, regret is all I have left. An evening spent reading is harder to choose, yet remembering it leaves me feeling full.

One choice is comfortable now and wasteful over time; the other is difficult now and rewarding later. That is the lens I want to use on what I am doing. Do I keep fasting or stop? I should know what matters to me.

Fasting saves money and, to my mind, helps my health. Eating and drinking recklessly costs money and does me no good. I have given up some pleasures, but I have saved money, lost some of my craving for coffee, and felt unusually clear-headed. I have even stopped needing an afternoon nap, almost without noticing.

The clarity has an awkward side: I am beginning to suspect that I do not much like sales work. Maybe I am just tired today. At this point, I do not even want to think it through.

Switching to Microsoft Shuangpin felt fresh and rather cool, until I had to type. The clumsiness is frustrating. I know it is part of learning, but even now I have more to say than I can comfortably put down. I am probably writing about ten percent less because of it.

So I will record this much: what the present feels like.