I used to journal every day. But I was depressed for a while and fell out of the habit: I didn’t like the way I was living, so living each day twice had no appeal.
I feel much better these days, but the journal habit is still shaky. In the last year, I’ve stranded a bunch of half-written drafts in my inbox (each entry is an email to myself).
Today, I’m stealing my daily motivation from Inkhaven and using it to finish those journal entries. I’ll publish the safe bits here — the rest is secret, unless you’re on the Gmail team or a good hacker.
Warning: Personal, of limited interest. Have you considered reading Alicorn instead?
July 19, 2025
Karaoke night! It’s basically a Bay Area house party, but much louder. There’s a live band, with a prominent AI researcher on bass and probably ten more in the audience. For the first time in years, someone recognized me from Twitch.
I meet a GiveWell recruiter with cat ears; unlike actual cats, he’s a fantastic singer. Someone attempts the Mariner’s Revenge Song; unlike actual sea shanties, it’s hard to remember when you’re drunk. I used to sing, and while I’ve lost my touch, I’m still good at being loud: “I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)” goes well. Several hours on, I’m very hoarse and make the mistake of trying to lead “Mr. Brightside”. Ow, ow, ow. Good night overall; I still can’t hear in crowded spaces, but I can smile and sing along.
For most of the night, a succession of Open Philanthropy staff run the karaoke laptop, scrolling through lyrics to keep the party alive. It’s a funny metaphor, but also a testament to Open Phil’s ability to screen for helpfulness.
Earlier, I met (politician) at a fundraiser. He is two standard deviations taller than I expected, and two standard deviations less charismatic. That’s a really good sign about his other talents.
September 9, 2025
Small conference this weekend. I met Andy Masley today! He’s exactly what I imagined.
I ride the bus with B, who is about to sign the Giving What We Can pledge and plans to throw a party. We brainstorm ideas:
- Ten percent. Guests must give 10% of something (one fingernail, thirty eyelashes, 1.2 donuts). Everything goes into a big pile that gets burned to symbolize all the money B will be burning.
- Good and evil. Guests spend the day cleaning up a park or doing other good deeds; at night, they party (sinfully).
- Fancy things. Now that B has given up fanciness for life, this day will mark their final exposure to the finer things. Guests dress formally until the Pledge is signed, then change into jeans and tees for dancing.
I learn to play Hearts, win my first two rounds, and retire undefeated. Stephen King wrote a whole novella about someone getting addicted to this game; skill issue.
At night, I try to help the AI in Context team come up with titles for their forthcoming MechaHitler video. I get stuck on “Can Elon Musk do ANYTHING wrong?” which makes me giggle uncontrollably and renders me useless for any more ideation.
September 11, 2025
There are few better places to be human than a beach at night, with just enough chill breeze to make people gather by the fire. It’s all friends and future friends. Three hours of conversation, and I’m never bored, I never miss my computer.
I wish I’d written this seven months ago, so I could remember any of it. I talked to M for an hour, made a friend, and now I’m not sure I could write five true sentences about him. Ten people were swapping scandalous stories from college and nothing stuck. This is why I started the journal, so I wouldn’t lose things, and I lost almost everything.
But honestly, I feel okay. I didn’t lose the feeling, and I still feel warm remembering that night, even if the soundtrack is all murmuring and laughter.
The one detail that stays: British people learning about s’mores, making them with vegan marshmallows, and wondering what the fuss was about. So much wasted potential.
September 14, 2025
T and I recovered a pair of lost surgical loupes, but misplaced a box of bathing suits. The net profit was probably $400, but we were mostly bummed about the swimwear — two cognitive science majors defeated by loss aversion.
Blood and Fur ended. The usual LitRPG disappointment: I love a good rise to power, but power itself is boring.
January 7, 2026
Goodbye, Open PhilanthropyCoefficient Giving. On the day, I wondered how long it would take me to start using the new name in my own mind, like a second language; it turned out to be fourteen weeks.
Most of my farewell notes are about Above the Bar, the silly internal digest I wrote for ~six months of my tenure. There’s an Inkhaven author who wrote about the importance of visibility — people like who they notice. Lucky I stumbled into that. Being very good at writing lightly satirical corporate newsletters is not a marketable skill in most places, but it’s evidence of something. What if I could write a version of ATB, but… for life? (Stick it in the idea box.)
I wish I had lived up to the job’s potential. But maybe the fact that I never did means it wasn’t the right job.
January 17, 2026
This was the first free month I had in four years, and I wasted almost all of it on Teamfight Tactics. Today I finally uninstalled, after an unhealthy number of hours, because a thought occurred to me: Wildbow has written more than five million words.
I want to be an author. I’ll be happy if I’m half as good as Wildbow. If I get to 1,000 words per day, it will take me more than seven years to write five million words. I’d better start today. (Looking back: I did not start that day. But I did finally apply for Inkhaven.)
It’s really stupid that it worked. I knew about Wildbow already. I knew about all the things I was giving up in an attempt to… do what? Be in the top 100 North American competitors for a game most people haven’t even heard of? Win $500? I could have read fifty books.
Is TFT the last game I’ll ever be that addicted to? The last one that will Tetris-effect me, drive me to madness as I claw my way into a tournament only to fall apart because I tilt off, play tired, refuse to apply even rudimentary logic to something I spent hundreds of hours on? The last one to make me hit the button when I know I shouldn’t?
If it happens again, the game may have been designed by an AI. I can’t decide whether that addiction would be more dignified, or less.
January 18, 2026
Starting to recover. I missed out on a lot of good stuff while TFT was happening — it requires total focus, and I can’t even listen to music while I play. Went through a hundred new songs today; music is great! Between TFT and music, it’s got to be music. If it starts to happen again, I should remember music.
Also cleaned up Workflowy. Mostly it’s a graveyard of old ideas and lives I didn’t live. But there’s also the Compliments file — always a burst of sunshine. I had completely forgotten about writing a short play for AF’s farewell party at the end of sophomore year. She laughed so hard. I have enough talent to make a few people happy. I’m glad I’m starting to use it again.