Balancing time to write, with time for partner, kids, or work. Time with my partner, with time for myself. Time for myself with time with myself. For there is a difference. I think of writing as time with myself. Being interrupted while engaging in this act only brings out the worst in me. So I often end up not doing it. Time for myself I can always interrupt without much complaint.

The “being interrupted while engaging in this act” part hits close to home for me. When I’m off on adventures in my own head, nothing makes me more enraged than when I have to dismantle the world I’ve spent hours building because my kid wants to tattle on my other kid.

Life is a balancing act of relationships—and sometimes we forget the most important one is with ourselves. Though my words may bridge toward others, the truth is: I always write with myself in mind. A selfish act. But a worthy one. I am my own therapist. I know what I need to know. I just have to sit and listen.

I wonder how many people blog to understand themselves, or to validate their existence. How many write just to spend time with themselves, while the whole world wants to take its share.

My journal is my lifeline these days. It is a record of exactly how I’m feeling in real time, and something I am sure I’ll appreciate having as I get older, when my memories of this part of my life are viewed with nostalgia-tinted glasses.

But in the present, I often will take my journal entry for the day and paste it into an LLM with no prompt, just to see what it says about me.

And while I am painfully aware of the likelihood of the LLM parroting back a sycophantic answer that puffs me up (which, hey, I’m human and totally not above), I often find that it gives me a connected insight across the day that I otherwise wouldn’t have reached on my own.

Maybe instead of sharing those thoughts with an algorithm, I should share them here. Blog-ust is almost neigh, after all!

But the simple act of getting your thoughts out of your head and into a format that you can read back later is incredibly helpful for reminding you that you’re alive and growing.

If we think of creative introspection as having three levels, level one is just noticing that you find an idea interesting or exciting.

Level two is noticing that your longing to be accepted can fool you to get excited about an idea that you are not actually excited about.

Level three is Andrei Tarkovsky.

In his diary, during preproduction of his masterpiece Solaris, the Soviet filmmaker writes that he has met a sound engineer that he considers brilliant. The sound engineer told Tarkovsky that they shouldn’t use Bach in the film because “everyone is using Bach in their films at the moment.”

In the diary, Tarkovsky makes no further note, but in the film, the music is—Bach.

Tarkovsky realized it didn’t matter that Bach was a popular choice that people would praise him for. It was just the right thing.

This is very hard to do, so most creatives stay on level 2 and learn that what is popular is a trap. This does lead to good ideas being needlessly killed. But likely more would die if they had let what is popular kill unpopular ideas.

This whole essay is mostly an ode to solitude and its importance for cultivating creativity, which is something I’ve been embracing lately to be sure, and also was enough to share this article on its own.

But what really made me want to share this article was this section on creative introspection.

I’ve mentioned how much of an impact the When We Were Young festival had on me last fall, and I think this section is a helpful illustration of why.

I vividly remember a bus ride back from a marching band parade in the summer of ninth grade. A group of girls were raving about this new album by a band called Yellowcard.

For some reason, I started making fun of them in my own head. I didn’t even listen to the music, save for occasionally coming across it on the radio and reflexively tuning out.

When we purchased our tickets for this festival, I started going back and listening to albums from these musicians. Musicians who, like Yellowcard, I derided and dismissed in my head for decades.

Musicians like Sum 41, Green Day, Simple Plan, Avril Lavigne, Something Corporate, Rise Against, Good Charlotte, and Thrice.

I purchased the tickets in October, and for the twelve months leading up to that festival, I almost exclusively listened to music by artists who were performing at the festival, mostly so I didn’t feel stupid when I heard them perform.

The more I listened, the more I realized I wasted two decades of my life dismissing an entire genre of music because I thought I was too good for it. Because I never even gave it a chance. Because I came to a conclusion about popularity in middle school and never revisited it.

What WWWY gave me was a chance to, in just one single day, repair two decades of mistakes and broken assumptions. It granted me an opportunity to redo my childhood, something we very rarely are afforded.

The experience showed me that while the popular thing can be wrong, it isn’t inherently wrong.

And as I keep looking for things that make me happy, that being joy to my life, that stop my heart from physically aching from anxiety, I’d be foolish to dismiss an idea because I solely evaluate it against what some cool girls liked in ninth grade.