Bhardwaj Rish

He wakes up and asks his clock what time it is. The clock answers faithfully, just as it does every single morning. As he wakes up, he thinks to himself "the brain isn't meant for keeping track of time or todo lists". As he stands up, out of his bed, he then takes a quick glance at his wrist watch, once again in an attempt to control time. He has about 10 tasks ahead of him - mundane ones that every half decent human should do in the morning before leaving for work.  He's been trying to optimize how quickly he can leave for work in the mornings without dilly-dallying. He knows time passes the fastest when you're not looking. "It's like leaving your milk to boil", he thinks to himself, "don't pay attention to it for just a second , and 10 minutes will have passed by and the milk overflows". So he makes a note of what minute the clock shows. He then starts his routine, checking in on the clock completing one task after the next. And sure

Why'd I stop posting on Instagram? Because Instagram stopped being about the lives of people -- the  stories aren't about everyday things they do, but just photos of the places they visit, or the food they eat, or the concert they go to, or the relationship they're in, or the dog they own. That's dull. The mantra: Spend money, show the gram you spent money. Go to the beach on vacation, ok. But show me your progress on the new sport you're learning instead. Take a picture of your food, ok. But tell me the funny art piece you saw in the restaurant instead. Show me your dog, ok. But tell me its everyday peculiarities instead. Listen to your favorite band live, ok. But tell me why they are your favorite band instead. Go to America for the first time, ok. But tell me what felt different to you about the country instead. Bought new clothes, ok. But tell me about that funny interaction with the attendant instead. Biked to work today, ok. But tell me about that funny numbe

Three Little People sit in their little living room, drinking their three little drinks. Invisible air bubbles of conversation - like little chat heads constantly flickering float above each one’s heads. The Little People are deep in conversation. “I have a theory” says The Little Man1. “What is your theory?” asks The Little Woman. The Little Man2 just sits and sips his drink. “Well it’s more of an experience. But of late, I’ve been going through life looking at myself — this situation — every setting that I’m in, from a third person’s perspective” says The Little Man1.   “Like a camera following you everywhere you go, and seeing yourself through it, instead of just living your life?” asks The Little Woman. “Ha, reminds me of The Sims, that computer game where the characters just do everyday life things” says The Little Man2. “Yes! A lot like The Sims!” exclaims The Little Man1 as he continues “Do you know why they’re called that?” “Because it’s a catchy name for a video game?” says Th

I was inspired by a post titled "Write more, but shorter" (do read!) that says writing shorter brings clarity to thought, while keeping the content digestible. The article resonated with me a lot - but missed a key point. Writing more frees up your brain to be able to have new ideas.  For a year now, I've had 10 ideas floating in my mind that I want to solidify. I've tried writing about them, but I would constantly struggle to draw analogies, make a convincing argument, make it read like a story, all while still getting the point across. I would then not publish them at all, leaving the thought lingering in my mind. These thoughts have rented my mindspace for a year now. (!) This limits how much more I can think of, because my mind keeps coming back to the old thoughts I haven't completely thought through. Humans are idea machines that need an environment to allow for more ideas to flow in; I don't know where ideas come from, but what I do know is the more I