Cans are great. When you think about it, they’re good exercise. You can drink one in about two mouthfuls, then you have to run downstairs and get another one. And Coke Zero is like just over 1.5 calories, so that whole regime burns more than you would use and it’s self-contained!

This isn’t just one day. There’s a diet one in there and we finished those three days ago, so it’s at least three days’ work.

Hash of semi-drunk, phone-typed thoughts alert. Move along; nothing to see here.

I’ve always been of the mindset that minimalism is a two-dimensional concept. Less of something equals minimalism. Ironically, a byproduct of this attitude can be anything but minimalism. Minimise the number of devices in my life and I end up with a phone that’s forgotten what it’s for. It’s full of games, books and other distractions that detract from its primary function and value. Sure, put a game on a phone and it’s a gaming platform, but that’s never what it’ll be for and never what it’ll be best at. Put a book app on a phone and you could read a book on it, but it’s not going to be a joyful experience. Any device that removes focus on anything but the task at hand must produce better results.

Recently, I’ve adopted a new approach. I removed all the games from my phone and bought a Nintendo DS. I removed all the books from my phone and was lucky enough to be given a Kindle. My new phone has a definite purpose, which helps me focus when I use it. Organise and communicate; that’s it. My DS is for games and it’s better at it, which increases my enjoyment. My Kindle is for reading and it’s better at it, which has hugely increased the amount of reading I’m doing. I read more, I game more and I am more effective with my phone (also not stuck to it permanently like other iPhoners).

I’m kinda surprised that my mobile devices haven’t always gone this way. Getting caught up in the hype of “oh my god, look at the cool stuff my phone can do”, I suppose. Just because something can do something, doesn’t mean that’s what you should use it for. My attitude has been this way with software I use for years. I don’t use an IDE when coding; I use a heavily customised vim install. I use terminal for version control, backups, server admin, file transfer, basically anything I can. I don’t game on my laptop. I use web interfaces instead of native apps wherever I can (except for email). I keep my laptop free of files – work is in version control, synchronised to remote servers and on my LAN on a hard drive. Music is on an external drive.

I’m driving my philosophy on minimalism toward minimising my predisposition to distraction rather than functionality or potential. If I can be more effective with more devices (within reason) then that should be a prioritised option.

I regularly re-evaluate my needs. I delete software I paid money for in favour of free alternatives because they are more appropriate. Do I really need a checklist for everything in my life I need to do, or just work stuff that could elude me? If I can remove an app from each of my primary devices and remain as effective as before, that’s a win. If it improves me; that’s a really big win.

For me, now, that is what minimalism is about. Not having as little as possible; having exactly what I need and no more, to be the best I can be. If I have to add to improve, then I will. If I can remove; that feels better, somehow.

I both love and loathe that everything material that I cherish most can be packed into a bag and taken with me wherever I go. It’s probably quite sad, but my camera and laptop have become like companions to me, I would say they seem to have souls but I have never been poetic enough to say dumb stuff like that!

Of why I married this woman. She’s trying to teach the cat that Sookie and Bill love each other in True Blood. All the cat wants to do is sleep and look at me disapprovingly.

Although this is a personal blog, I try to keep it as interesting as I possibly can, so that people might actually want to read it. I don’t like to talk about my feelings (mostly because I don’t really understand them) because indulging oneself can often become a vicious cycle. I don’t write a personal journal for the same reason. It’s really easy to wallow.

With that fresh in our minds, I had the funniest day today (if I didn’t know or care for me; maybe if I was watching my day completely impartially). I’d like to say that this is a metaphor, but it isn’t: my day got so bad, I physically filled a glass half full, and the bottom fell off the glass! You know those days, where you’re drained of all your energy, like the thing that’s keeping you alive, not just awake, is dissipating.

So, I go to sleep really hoping that tomorrow’s going to be different, but there’s a realist in my ear telling me that it’s just going to be the same again.