DEV Community: koshirok096

Sorting Out My Question Before I Ask AI (Bite-size Article)

koshirok096 — Fri, 04 Sep 2026 21:54:03 +0000

Introduction

It's been a few years now since generative AI worked its way into everyday life.
AI has made life more convenient for a lot of people, but at the same time, I've been seeing more and more talk about its downsides.
The one I come across most often lately is the idea that using AI has a negative effect on how well you retain and understand things.

For example, something like this: you split people into a group that solves a problem using AI and a group that solves it without, and when you check on them again after some time has passed, the group that used AI remembers less about it.

This is something I can relate to. Or rather — I can't say for sure, but compared to how I was before AI, I've been handing whole tasks over to it more often, and I feel like I retain less and learn less by thinking things through. I build things up piece by piece less than I used to. Instead, more and more, it's AI laying the groundwork for my ideas and my work.

I Was Handing Over the Wrong Things

So is AI entirely to blame? I don't think so — I think it's a matter of how you use it and how you approach it. Looking back at my own usage, the problem was less about AI itself and more about what I was handing over to it.

Take coming up with ideas. Throw it at AI and you'll get plenty of plausible-sounding ones. But I've come to feel that some subjects suit this and some don't, especially anything involving my own opinion or taste. For those, thinking it through myself from the start usually gets me to the finish line faster, and leaves me more satisfied with the result. When I hand the initial idea over to AI instead, what comes back often feels detached, like it belongs to someone else, and a little thin.

On the other hand, there's work where the rough shape is already there but it isn't finished yet. Smoothing off the rough edges of that kind of thing is where I think AI is good. Pointing out gaps and typos, offering a different way to phrase something, cross-checking against what I've already written — that sort of thing. This is worth handing over, and I use it a lot myself. (Even for these dev.to posts, I never skip having AI check the text before I publish.)

The problem is that the line between the two gets blurry over time. Once you get used to AI, you start throwing both kinds at it, just to see. Especially when I'm tired or don't feel like thinking, I've found myself handing over things I should have done myself, simply because doing them felt like a hassle.

Trying to Take the Easy Way Doesn't Make It Easier

I'm often dissatisfied with what AI gives me. Not what I wanted, too shallow, off the mark. I used to assume the problem was on AI's end, and I'd get irritated about it fairly often. Lately, though, my first instinct is to suspect that I asked badly. Usually that's exactly it: I said something vague, so something vague came back. Sometimes the information is all there, but what I'm actually asking for is off, so I never reach the answer I wanted. When I put myself in AI's position at moments like that, I sometimes realize there was no way to answer the question as I'd asked it.

Thinking back, whenever I've worked with AI and felt like we made something good, I was also thinking hard the whole time. What do I want to make, where am I stuck. Just putting that into words means I've already done about half the thinking myself. AI feels like it's helping me with the rest.

The opposite case is when I've been brainstorming forever and getting nowhere. In those moments, my thinking has usually shut down. I throw things out without being clear about what I even want, vaguely hoping "something good" comes back. And when that doesn't happen, I get dissatisfied with the result. So I throw out something sloppy again, and I'm in a bad loop. (While I was thinking about this, it struck me that the same thing happens between people. Funny, isn't it.)

If you use AI expecting it to save you effort, it turns out it doesn't, really. If anything, you end up redoing the work yourself later and losing more time. If you want it to be easy, it's faster to think first — that's how it feels to me lately.

Conclusion

Today I've tried to put together my own thoughts on what I've noticed while using AI.
AI is convenient, but the more I use it, the easier it is to lean on it without noticing — dumping anything troublesome on it without giving it much thought, treating it carelessly. That's what I've been doing. Writing this post has made me rethink how I want to work with AI (which sounds grander than it is).

AI looks like it can do anything, but it can't.

Before I ask AI, I sort out what I want to ask it. AI keeps getting better, but I'm the one who has something I want to make, and if that part stays vague, nothing takes shape.

How about you — where do you draw the line between what you do yourself and what you hand to AI? I'd love to hear it in the comments.

Thanks for reading.

How Often Did I Actually Revisit the Articles I Saved? (Bite-size Article)

koshirok096 — Fri, 28 Aug 2026 20:42:19 +0000

Introduction

Recently, I cancelled the paid plan on the Evernote account I'd been using for years. I didn't delete anything I plan to keep using it within the free tier. The reason I cancelled: for the past two or three years I'd barely been adding anything, and the only thing keeping me on the paid plan was a small set of notes I still added on a regular basis. I've since reorganized those and moved them to a different tool, so there was no longer a reason to pay.

The old data is still there and still accessible. Even though I won't be adding to it, everything I saved in the past is something I can go back and look at any time.

Note Count

While I was going through the cancellation, the total number of notes I'd saved caught my eye.

Tens of thousands of them — far more than I'd expected. I'd spent years writing daily logs and review notes, clipping web pages whenever something caught my interest, so in hindsight it makes sense. Still, seeing it laid out as a single number, I was a little surprised at how much I'd used it.

How Much Did I Actually Revisit?

After seeing that number, a thought occurred to me: how many of these did I actually go back and look at?

Thinking it over, I doubt most of those notes were ever opened a second time.

Not zero, of course. There are pages I've opened again and again, and I clearly remember moments where I was glad I'd saved something — summaries I'd written for myself after reading a book, bookmarks I ended up referring to. But those were a small fraction of the whole. The vast majority were saved once and never opened again.

I would have found it interesting to see an actual figure — how many notes had been opened more than once — but I doubt that statistic is available anywhere. Still, even going on feel alone, "almost none" is clear enough in my own mind that I'm comfortable saying it.

Why Was I Saving So Much?

Daily logs, book summaries, review notes — those are a separate matter. What I'm thinking about here is the bookmarks and web clips. Looking back, I don't think the reason I saved those was "to read later."

It was the feeling you get when something catches your eye — the feeling of not wanting to let it slip away. The sense that if I don't grab it now, I'll never run into it again. Once it's saved, I can relax. What I was really buying was that reassurance.

And saving something gives you the feeling of having dealt with it. Even though I hadn't read it, and hadn't used it. Collecting had become the point in itself.

What strikes me now is that the things I genuinely end up needing are usually findable if I go looking. I can't recall a single case where not saving something left me stuck.

The Courage Not to Save

Saving takes effort. Clipping it, organizing it later, checking back on it now and then. Each one is small, but multiplied across that many notes, it adds up.

Line that effort up against how often I actually went back to any of it, and honestly, it didn't balance out.

If there's something you've been accumulating, it might be worth taking a look at just the number sometime. It's more interesting than you'd expect.

And of course, I'll keep saving the things that matter, in whatever tool fits!

In my own case, though — when it comes to the things I save just for a vague sense of reassurance, maybe the courage not to save them matters too. That's what I've been thinking about lately.

Thanks for reading!

Don't Optimize for Your Best Day. Eliminate Your Worst One (Bite-size Article)

koshirok096 — Fri, 21 Aug 2026 20:55:45 +0000

Introduction

Schopenhauer's Aphorisms on the Wisdom of Life starts from a premise: happiness isn't something you can add to.

Most of us tend to picture it the other way around, as something that accumulates. Work hard, get promoted, etc. Save a little every month. Stack up results, and you end up happier than you were before.

But for Schopenhauer, what we call satisfaction or happiness is nothing more than a state in which want and pain have been removed. Getting something feels good because the state of lacking it has ended — not because a plus has been added. This is why he calls happiness negative.

Drawing on Aristotle, he returns again and again to a single principle: what the wise person seeks is not pleasure, but the absence of pain.

Not pleasure, but freedom from pain. That is what the wise person aims at. The reasoning is the same as above: pleasure is only pain having disappeared, and the thing with any real substance is the pain. He adds one more condition here — freedom from boredom — and says that when both are in place, you have the conditions for the only happiness actually within reach.

If that holds, then his conclusion follows: what you should be aiming at is not increasing the good states, but reducing the bad ones.

So what should we do?

Schopenhauer gives 2 answers. Remove the pain you can actually feel, as far as you can. And reduce the wanting itself, since wanting is what produces the lack. If pleasure is only pain having disappeared, then this is the only place reachable happiness can be.

Put as a question:

❌ What can I add to make this better?
✅ What can I remove to make this hurt less?

The adding side has no end. There's no ceiling on "better," so the moment you reach one, the next one appears.

The removing side is finite. And you already know what hurts, because pain is the thing that gets felt.

But there's no payoff once it's gone. Pain that is no longer there isn't something you notice. So nothing registers as improvement, and it keeps getting pushed further down the list.

Designing your best day works less well than removing your worst one. In Schopenhauer's terms, that is the kind of happiness that is actually within reach.

Conclusion

I read Aphorisms on the Wisdom of Life a long time ago and had completely forgotten what was in that book. I recently came across an article summarizing it, so I wrote this post as a way of going back over the material.

Of his 2 answers, the "reduce the wanting" one is not something I can honestly see myself carrying out. In the society we live in now, the things to want are supplied to you from the outside, and there are plenty of situations where the structure around you requires you to keep pace with them.

The "remove the pain you can feel" one seems more workable. You know what hurts, because you're the one feeling it. That part stayed with me for a while after reading.

Sorry if a lot of this came out abstract! This is my own reading of the book, so if it interests you, please go and read the original.

Thank you for reading!

When Multitasking Doesn't Work: Task Combinations I'd Rather Avoid (Bite-size Article)

koshirok096 — Fri, 14 Aug 2026 20:39:07 +0000

Introduction

In my previous article, I argued that multitasking isn't always something to avoid. Instead of treating it as inherently inefficient, I suggested that the combination of tasks is what really matters.

For example, pairing compatible tasks, attaching a new habit to an existing routine, or even taking advantage of the right environment can sometimes create a positive synergy rather than hurting productivity.

That said, compatibility really is the key. When two tasks compete with each other, multitasking often leads to reduced focus, lower-quality work, and greater mental fatigue.

So this time, I'd like to take the opposite perspective and share a few combinations that I personally try to avoid, along with why I think they don't work very well.

As always, these are simply observations based on my own experience. I hope you'll read this as one person's perspective and perhaps compare it with your own habits.

1. When Language Competes with Language

Examples

Writing a blog post while listening to a podcast
Writing emails while listening to music with lyrics
Reading a book while studying from audio lessons

This is probably one of the easiest examples to imagine. When both activities require language processing, they tend to compete for your attention.

Personally, I find it difficult to write while listening to lyrical music or talk radio. Instrumental music, on the other hand—such as jazz—often feels much less distracting and can even help me stay focused.

Another interesting thing I've noticed is that music sung in a language I don't understand often feels much less intrusive. Since I'm not automatically processing the lyrics, it becomes more like background sound. In that sense, it almost plays a role similar to white noise—at least that's how it feels to me. (I'm curious whether other people experience the same thing.)

2. Decision-Making Tasks + Tasks That Require Comprehension

Examples

Planning a project while listening to a podcast
Creating presentation slides while following the news
Brainstorming ideas while listening to talk radio

This overlaps slightly with the previous category, but I think it's worth separating.

Tasks like brainstorming, planning, or creating documents require active thinking and decision-making. Combining them with something that also requires you to understand spoken information—such as podcasts or news—doesn't seem to work very well.

Even if both tasks can technically be done at the same time, I find that my attention constantly shifts back and forth, making both activities less effective.

Personally, if I want some background audio while working on this type of task, instrumental music works much better. Even when I have the news playing, I usually don't actively follow what is being said. It's more like ambient background sound than something I'm actually listening to, and that seems to interfere much less with my thinking.

3. Deep Focus + Constant Notifications

Examples

Studying while receiving LINE notifications
Writing while checking Slack
Designing while constantly checking email

This isn't exactly multitasking—it's more like frequent interruptions.

Every notification pulls your attention away, forcing your brain to switch contexts. It can be surprisingly exhausting.

When I'm working on something that requires concentration, I've found it much more effective to mute notifications and deal with emails or messages in batches afterward.

4. Safety-Critical Tasks + Anything Else

Examples

Driving while using your phone
Cycling while watching videos
Using a kitchen knife while trying to do something else

This isn't really about productivity at all.

When safety is involved, even "just for a second" can lead to accidents. These are combinations that are simply not worth the risk.

5. Rest Time + Information Consumption

Examples

Scrolling through social media during lunch breaks
Reading the news in bed before sleeping
Checking work emails during breaks

Breaks and sleep are meant to be opportunities to recover.

However, if we habitually fill those moments with social media, news, or emails, we may not be giving our minds the rest they actually need. Even if those activities don't feel like work, our brains are still processing new information.

Personally, I often catch myself picking up my phone whenever I have a few spare minutes—scrolling through social media or looking up things that aren't actually urgent.

I've found that intentionally leaving some of those moments empty instead of automatically reaching for my phone helps me feel more refreshed and makes it easier to focus afterward.

Conclusion

Everything I've shared here comes from my own experience and the task combinations that I personally find incompatible.

Writing this article reminded me that multitasking itself isn't necessarily the problem. What really matters is which tasks we combine. Some combinations compete for the same mental resources, while others can complement each other surprisingly well—as I discussed in my previous article.

If this topic interests you, it might be worth taking a closer look at your own multitasking habits. You may discover combinations that help you stay focused, as well as others that leave you more mentally drained than you realized.

Understanding those patterns could be a simple but effective way to improve both your productivity and your daily routine.

Thanks for reading!

Rethinking Multitasking: It's the Combination That Matters (Bite-size Article)

koshirok096 — Fri, 07 Aug 2026 21:26:01 +0000

Introduction

Multitasking is sometimes called inefficient, on the grounds that it divides your attention.

And there's something to that. Research in cognitive psychology has shown that when you try to do several attention-demanding tasks at the same time — writing an email while sitting in a meeting, say — your performance tends to suffer. But even setting the research aside, plenty of us have probably felt it directly: when you work this way, the quality of your work drops and you tire more quickly. At least I have.

That doesn't mean all multitasking is bad, though.

What matters is what you combine with what. Depending on the pairing, you can get more than just time savings — sometimes the two activities actually reinforce each other, producing a kind of synergy.

1. Combining one task with another

Take pairs like writing an article while watching a video, or studying while checking social media. Both sides demand your focus, so efficiency tends to fall.

On the other hand, combinations like:

A walk × a podcast
Chores × an audiobook
A train commute × language study

work better, because when one side is relatively simple, the load doesn't pile up on top of the other.

So the question isn't whether multitasking is good or bad — it's about choosing pairings that go well together. That, to me, is what matters.

2. Combining a task with a habit

The thing you pair with doesn't have to be another task.

For example, say you want to listen to a podcast to study a language. If you frame it as "I'll set aside 30 minutes to study," it easily gets pushed to later on busy days.

But if you attach that podcast to a walk or a commute you already do every day, you don't need to carve out any new time at all.

This connects to the idea of "Habit Stacking" — tying a new action to a habit you already have. It's a method introduced in James Clear's Atomic Habits: instead of starting a new habit from scratch, you link it to an existing one to make it easier to stick with.

3. Combining a task with an environment

The thing you pair with can even be your environment.

This strays a little from multitasking in the strict sense, but bear with me: suppose you want to work out at home. It's easy to keep putting it off, or to find you just can't concentrate.

Go to a gym, though, and the environment is already set up for exercising — and there are people working out all around you. Simply placing yourself in that setting can be enough: "Well, I came all this way, so I might as well," and you find yourself acting more naturally.

In behavioral science, it's well established that our actions are shaped not just by willpower but heavily by our surroundings. So "exercise" paired with "the gym" is another combination that nudges you into action.

Conclusion

On a personal note: lately I've been paying more attention to multitasking as a way to work through different kinds of tasks efficiently, and that's what led me to write this piece.

The word "multitasking" tends to carry an image of being inefficient.

But if you avoid stacking two focus-demanding tasks, and instead choose pairings that don't get in each other's way — or tie a task to a habit or an environment you already have — you can not only use your time well but also gain positive side effects like building habits and refreshing your mind.

Rather than lumping multitasking together as simply good or bad, try looking at it through the question, "what combination would create synergy?" You might just find a hint for building a new habit.

Thank you for reading!

A Few More Months with Claude — Some Scattered Thoughts (Bite-size Article)

koshirok096 — Fri, 31 Jul 2026 20:05:03 +0000

Introduction

Earlier this year I wrote a few posts about switching from ChatGPT to Claude, then getting into MCP, and various odds and ends I noticed after making the move.

Quick background, in case you're new here: I'd used ChatGPT as my main AI tool for a long time, but for various reasons I switched my main tool over to Claude around spring 2026. (I haven't quit ChatGPT, by the way — I still use it as a secondary tool.)

It's already been a few months since I moved over to Claude. (Time flies 😅)

I happened to be looking back over one of my older posts, and now that I've got a few more months of use under my belt, some new things have come into view — stuff I couldn't have noticed back when I wrote that earlier post. So this time I want to touch on that a bit. This isn't so much a tidy conclusion as just my scattered impressions right now.

Recent Impressions of Claude and ChatGPT

Claude

I previously wrote that the combination of the memory feature and MCP "cut down on explanation overhead quite a bit." That assessment still holds. But the more I use it, the more I've started to see another side. For example, sometimes it'll force a connection to information stored in memory even when the topic is completely unrelated.

"Uh, that's... not relevant right now."

Moments like that feel more frequent than before. These forced connections add noise, and it can get a little annoying. It's the flip side of the convenience, but since memory just keeps accumulating, tidying it up and deleting things might become part of the routine going forward. (I haven't tried that yet, so it's a to-do for later.)

One more thing — and I can't be sure about this — but lately I feel like I'm running into a bit more hallucination, excessive agreement, and, as a result, a harder time thinking critically. Even with Opus 4.8 or 5.0 — the top class model if you set aside Mythos and Fable — I occasionally hit the kind of wild, off-base answers I rarely used to see. (Oddly enough, when I experimentally switch back to something like Opus 4.6, I sometimes feel the answers are actually better, which is strange.)

It might have to do with how well a given model fits the kind of thing I'm asking about. Or maybe I'm wrong and it's just my personal impression, or maybe it's something off in the model's design itself — I can't really tell. Specs change often, so it could just be a problem with how I'm using it. I'd like to keep watching for a while.

ChatGPT

Right now I'm using ChatGPT on the free plan. Back when I was weighing the move from ChatGPT to Claude, I agonized quite a bit over whether to keep my ChatGPT Plus subscription. But paying a fixed cost for something I'm no longer using as my main tool felt wasteful, so I decided to try going free.

The number one thing on my list of "what ChatGPT has that Claude doesn't" is image generation. Claude can handle things you can express through SVG or Artifacts, but it doesn't have standalone JPG image generation the way ChatGPT does (as things currently stand). In my case, I need this image generation in all sorts of situations, so I was worried about whether going free — with tighter limits — would actually let me generate the volume my work requires. (Or, put another way, I figured if I hit a wall here, I'd need to keep Plus after all.)

But when I actually tried it, I could generate a fair amount without hitting a stop. The quality looks unchanged too. That said, if I ever need a much larger volume of images in a short window, things might change.

For now, though, the volume I use for work is no problem, so I feel like staying on the free plan is fine.

On the whole, I mostly use ChatGPT for image generation these days, but it seems like new models and memory features keep getting added one after another. There are probably quite a few features I don't even know about.

As for the recently talked-about GPT-5.6, I've also seen reports that on some benchmarks it's putting up numbers that surpass Claude's Mythos class — the model that itself made waves around the world.

So my impression that "Claude is ahead" has faded compared to before. But in the end, both are evolving at a pretty rapid pace, so I suspect my impression will have shifted yet again six months from now.

Closing thoughts

Today was all over the place, but I've loosely gathered up some honest impressions of how AI has felt to use lately.

One thing that struck me is that my own workflow is changing even faster than the AI itself. Properly adopting and using MCP, for instance, dramatically changed how I run my work, and going forward I plan to keep trying out new ideas — not just MCP — as they come up.

If I read this back again in a few months, I might think, "Huh, so this is the stuff I was fretting about back then." This post, too, isn't a conclusion — I'm leaving it as a note capturing where things stand right now.

Thanks for reading!

Getting Lost on Purpose (Bite-size Article)

koshirok096 — Fri, 24 Jul 2026 21:10:56 +0000

Introduction

This is another short, light one, but I hope you'll stick with me. A little while ago I wrote a post on the benefits of walking, and today I want to talk about walking again — from a slightly different angle.

—

In that post, I wrote about the "benefits" of walking: how ideas tend to come more easily when you mull things over on the move, how getting some sunlight is good for you, that sort of thing.

Separately from that, there's a way of walking I've come to enjoy lately: deliberately going out to get lost.

The Process, Not the Destination

I don't know the strict definition of a "walk," but the way I see it, it's less about getting to some particular place — that would be transit — and more about the walking itself being the point. So the interesting part isn't where you end up, but the process of getting there.

I feel that most strongly when I set out to get lost on purpose. The method is dead simple. Whether I'm traveling or just in the place I currently live, I start walking without deciding where I'm going. I don't open the map. Relying only on my own sense of direction and whatever signs happen to catch my eye, I turn down whichever way looks interesting. That's it.

When I do, the way the city looks changes noticeably. I naturally start picking up on the little details I'd normally walk straight past while staring at a screen — the bakery on that corner, a strangely steep hill, the flow of people. Not knowing where I'll end up turns out to be far more fun than I'd expected.

Why Do I Get Lost on Purpose?

Why do I do this? Honestly, there's no big reason.

For one, it's just a good way to kill time. For another, taking a different turn each time is somehow more exciting than walking the same route over and over. That goes double in an unfamiliar city — walking along with no idea what's around the next corner is a little bit of fun all on its own.

Thinking about it now, maybe it's a leftover habit from my backpacking days. When I was younger, I did a lot of backpacking abroad. Back then smartphones either didn't exist or were only just appearing, so I'd jot destinations onto a paper map in pen, walk by compass, and get lost all the time. But funny enough, what stands out most when I look back isn't the routes I nailed efficiently — it's the moments when I'd wandered somewhere by mistake. Though that's all reasoning after the fact; the truth is probably closer to "because it's just kind of fun."

Switching Between "Transit" and "Strolling"

That said, I'm not walking around ditching the map all the time. When I actually need to get somewhere — "transit," basically — I use the app fully, like anyone would. It's the fastest way, and I think that's exactly what you should do in that case.

What I'm doing, I guess, is consciously switching into a "stroll mode" now and then, separate from that transit mode. Not to reach a destination, but just to wander freely, I close the map for a little while. That alone makes even a familiar city look a bit different — and it's really not bad.

Wrapping Up

We've reached a point where you don't get lost anymore unless you make a conscious effort. Which is exactly why, every so often, I deliberately get lost and enjoy the situation when I do.

And on top of that, the "benefits" I mentioned last time — thinking more clearly, getting some sunlight, getting some exercise — you get all of those from this kind of aimless wandering too. You're still walking, after all. It's just that a little thrill of not knowing where you'll end up gets added on top.

It doesn't have to be somewhere you're traveling — even in your own familiar hometown, deliberately picking a street you don't know can turn up some surprising little discoveries. If you have the time, why not try getting "lost" — in a city you'll visit next, or in the one you already live in?

Thanks for reading.

Tackle Your To-Dos by Borrowing Another Plan (Bite-size Article)

koshirok096 — Fri, 17 Jul 2026 20:46:50 +0000

Introduction

There are sometimes small tasks that, for some reason, you just can't bring yourself to do — tasks that keep sitting on your to-do list. You know you have to do them, but somehow you end up prioritizing other things, and they stay there, undone.

The other day, one of those lingering tasks got finished in an unexpected way. The feeling at the time was oddly familiar, so I looked into it afterwards, and I wanted to write a bit about what I noticed.

The task that suddenly got done, 10 minutes before heading out

The other morning, I was working through my routine of planning and organizing my daily task list. On that list was a small task that had been sitting there for several days. The priority was fairly high, it would only take 10–20 minutes, and there was nothing especially difficult about it. But because I'd been busy, I kept saying "tomorrow's fine," and it just kept getting pushed back.

That evening, I had plans to meet up with a friend at my place and head out together. I had set "leave at X:XX" as the departure time. I wasn't really conscious of it, but I'd actually finished getting ready a good while before that, and almost without thinking, I found myself saying, "I've got a solid 10 minutes before I have to leave — let me do that thing now," and I started.

What was interesting was that, at the same time, I caught myself thinking, "I'm not even sure I'll finish in time" — and yet my hands were already moving, and as it turned out, I finished right on time. If I'd had a little more time, I probably wouldn't have started. And if I'd had a little less, I don't think I would have either.

What was actually happening

A task I'd been treating as "do it if I can, otherwise tomorrow" suddenly got done, just because it landed in that 10-minute window right before heading out.

Thinking about it a bit more, I realized: what I'd really done was finish something I had to do by borrowing another plan.

The plan to go out with my friend had nothing to do with that lingering task. But because that plan carved out a defined block of time, the task got done. It wasn't that I summoned up the willpower to tackle the task itself — it was more that I rode the current of another plan, and the task came along with it.

A "relative" of the concept: Habit Stacking

When you think about it this way, this is actually something we already do unconsciously all the time.

We check email on the commute train. We read a book during the commute. We brush our teeth while listening to the news. We routinely take this approach of "attaching a new action to an existing plan or habit."

There's a related concept from behavioral science called "habit stacking." It became widely known through James Clear's Atomic Habits, and the idea is that when you want to build a new habit, you can make it stick more easily by attaching it right after an existing habit. "After I brew my coffee, I take my vitamins." "After I brush my teeth, I learn one English word." You use an existing routine as an anchor. That familiar feeling I'd had, I realized, came from having encountered this concept before in that book.

That said, my experience isn't quite the same thing. What got done was not a habit but a one-off lingering task. Habit stacking, in its original sense, is about layering one recurring habit on top of another recurring habit, which is a bit different from layering a one-off task on top of a one-off plan, as in my case.

But I think the underlying principle is close — close enough that they feel like "relatives." In the sense of "instead of building a deadline or container yourself, you borrow the structure of another plan that's already locked in," both approaches seem to belong to the same family.

Even one-off plans can be borrowed

What felt like a personal discovery this time was: even non-habitual, one-off plans can be used as "anchors" in this way.

Normally, when we try to tackle a lingering task, we try to muster motivation directly, or we set deadlines for ourselves. "I'll do it tomorrow morning." "I'll finish it by evening." But deadlines we set for ourselves are just promises to ourselves, and they turn out to be surprisingly easy to break.

On the other hand, plans like "the time I leave for shopping" or "X o'clock pickup for the kids" are locked in by circumstances outside our control. They can't easily be moved. And because they can't be moved, borrowing them as deadlines can be much more effective than ones we set ourselves.

Whether I can consciously use this to actually push through tasks I'm finding heavy is another question. But at least for me, it feels like a promising idea worth experimenting with going forward.

Closing

When you're sitting on a lingering task, sitting down at your desk and telling yourself "OK, time to do this" surprisingly doesn't work all that well. At least for me — if that worked, the task wouldn't be lingering in the first place.

Instead, take a look at the other plans you already have locked in for the day, and try slotting the task into something like "the 10 minutes before heading out" or "the 20 minutes before meeting someone." A one-off version of habit stacking, where you tuck a lingering task into another plan. That kind of approach, I think, might suit certain kinds of tasks.

This post is also a bit of a note-to-self. If anything in it happens to be useful for your own life or work, I'd be glad.

Thanks for reading!

Putting "Doing Nothing" on Your Schedule (Bite-size Article)

koshirok096 — Fri, 10 Jul 2026 21:08:42 +0000

Introduction

When we plan our days, we usually write down what we're going to do. Meetings, errands, exercise, study. On the other hand, we rarely put "doing nothing" on the schedule.

I'm self-employed, and I tend to lean a bit toward being a workaholic. Since my work happens to be something I genuinely enjoy, if I let myself go, I end up working endlessly.

For someone like me, I've had a vague sense for a long time that I should actively plan time to do nothing. Rather than resting when I happen to feel like it, I wanted to build "doing nothing time" into my schedule from the start. I've been consciously trying to do this for a while.

Carving out time to do nothing, every day

One simple approach is this: every day, reserve a fixed amount of time for doing nothing.

There are two key points. First, fix the amount of time (set it as a daily target, like "X hours every day"). Second, don't decide what to do with it (don't plan the content in advance).

A normal plan specifies both the time and the content. "Go to the gym for 30 minutes starting at 7 PM," for example. The "doing nothing time" I'm talking about here only takes the time as a slot, leaving the content blank. The moment you decide what to do, it stops being "doing nothing time" — it just becomes another scheduled task.

The amount of time can vary from person to person. 30 minutes, an hour, several hours — whatever you can comfortably manage given your work and life.

The timing (when in the day) can be either fixed or flexible. You could set it as "10 PM to midnight every day," for example, or leave the timing open and just track total minutes throughout the day, stopwatch-style, aiming for something like "3 hours of nothing per day."

I've been intentional about taking active breaks for a long time, partly as a defense against my workaholic tendencies. The specific approach has shifted over time, but the basic idea of "reserving a slot for doing nothing in advance" has stuck with me as one of the methods that genuinely works for me.

To be clear, I say "doing nothing time," but I don't literally do nothing during this time. I play games, read books, space out, go for walks — whatever I feel like in the moment. The reality is closer to "time away from things I feel obligated to do." The phrase "doing nothing" isn't exactly precise, but it's the wording that felt most fitting, so I'm using it.

Some related ideas from other fields

By the way, when I first thought about writing a blog post on this idea of "intentionally reserving time to do nothing," I started wondering whether there was any real basis for it. So I did a bit of digging — and it turns out that similar ideas come up in various fields.

For example, there's a Dutch word called niksen, which apparently means, literally, "doing nothing." Along with Danish hygge and Swedish lagom, it's been introduced in Western media in recent years as a way of framing "time spent without purpose" in a positive light. I found it kind of interesting that other languages have words pointing to similar ideas.

There's also a concept from neuroscience called the Default Mode Network (DMN). It's apparently a brain network that becomes active when a person isn't focused on any external task — in other words, when they're spacing out. It's said to be involved in creativity and memory organization. The idea that something is actually being processed in the brain during what looks like "nothing time" struck me as interesting too.

I've only read up on these lightly, so I can't go very deep, but it seems like the view that "unused time isn't a flaw" — or even that there might be some meaning in it — shows up in quite a few places.

Closing thoughts

When you're busy and have a lot on your plate, from a strict efficiency standpoint, spending 2 or 3 hours a day on "doing nothing" can look like a serious waste. That said, my own experience is that consciously protecting this time, as much as possible, every day, gives me a sense of mental breathing room.

So even if it's not something to enforce every single day, when you're feeling worn out or notice yourself running low on slack, deliberately carving out some "doing nothing time" might help shift things in a better direction. If that sounds interesting to you, give it a try.

Thanks for reading!

Replacing a vague habit with "time" and "amount" (Bite-size Article)

koshirok096 — Fri, 03 Jul 2026 21:08:30 +0000

Introduction

This is going to be a short and light post, but I hope you'll give it a read.
Recently I rethought how I handle deleting unnecessary files on my PC, so I thought I'd write about it.

—

How do you usually delete unnecessary files on your PC? I used to run on a vague sense of "I'll do it when I feel like it" or "I'll clean up little by little" (and I suspect a lot of people manage things in a similar way). In my case, the very idea of "organizing unnecessary files on my PC" was vague to begin with — I hadn't decided when I'd do it or how much I'd do. As a result, my PC was chronically accumulating data, always in a cluttered state, with me deleting things at random whenever I felt like it. A pretty sloppy way of managing things.

The intention was there, but in practice almost nothing happened. The only time I actually moved was when storage ran out and I couldn't save something. Completely reactive, in other words.

"Do it little by little" sounds low-friction and easy to sustain — it looks good on the surface — but since the when and how-much weren't defined, the days where I didn't do anything just piled up.

Replacing the rule with "time × amount"

So the other day, I tried replacing the rule with two concrete elements. I set the timing of the deletion to "every week," and the amount to delete to "1–3 GB." That way, both the frequency and the target are clearly defined.

The "1–3 GB" number comes from a rough estimate of how much data I add in a typical week. In my case I have a vague sense of that number because of the kind of work I do, so I just decided on it. If you don't have that sense, you could check the diff size from a backup tool, or — going more analog — note today's free space and check the same spot a week later. That should be enough to get a feel for it. The basic idea is simple arithmetic: if you delete more than what gets added, your free space gradually increases.

What I found interesting after trying this was that the axis of judgment flipped.

Under the old approach, I'd ask "is this file necessary?" and if it seemed necessary, I'd keep it. My default posture was tilted toward "keep," so when I hesitated I'd keep the file, and my hand would tend to stop moving.

After setting the quota, I started asking "which ones can I delete to hit this week's amount?" The default posture switched to "delete," so I started actively looking for candidates. Looking at the same files, the conclusion of whether to keep or delete probably comes out differently.
What I was actually doing was changing the default of judgment

Put more abstractly, this was a story about switching the default of my cognition.

The "weekly × 1–3 GB" rule looks like just a quota from the outside. But what I was actually doing was replacing the question I ask myself when looking at a file — from "is this necessary?" to "can this be deleted?" — which is a fairly internal piece of work.

When you ask "is this necessary?", the default becomes "keep." When you hesitate, the file stays, and not making a judgment effectively means "hold = keep." On the other hand, when you ask "can this be deleted?", the default switches to "delete." Hesitation puts the file into the "candidate to discard" pile, and not making a judgment means nothing moves forward, so things naturally start moving. Looking at the same file, just changing the first question you ask leads to surprisingly different conclusions.

So the rule, it turns out, might be best understood as a device that lets me avoid consciously flipping that switch every time. By setting a quota, I'm putting myself in a state where the default of judgment is automatically tilted toward "delete." That's how it feels, anyway.

Closing thoughts

This time the topic was "regularly reducing unnecessary data on my PC," which isn't a particularly important subject — just a small everyday thing. But what I found, personally, was that a tiny shift in how I framed the problem made a noticeable difference in the outcome. Deleting unnecessary data is just one example; I suspect the same approach can be applied to other things too. When a habit has become stuck in vagueness and stopped moving, applying the two axes of "time" and "amount" might be enough to get other things moving as well, I felt.

Thanks for reading.

When Old Things Take On New Meaning in the Age of AI (Bite-size Article)

koshirok096 — Fri, 26 Jun 2026 21:45:27 +0000

Introduction — On What I've Been Writing for Years

This is a follow-up to my previous post on Claude and MCP. Just sharing some recent thoughts.

Personally, I've always enjoyed keeping records and analyzing my own work. So for years, I've been logging my daily tasks, jotting down thoughts, hesitations, and impressions in notes. I've drawn on these records for reviews, analysis, and decisions on various projects.

The tools have shifted over time — Evernote, Notion, Logseq, Taskuma, and so on — but the habit itself, of writing notes into some app or tool, has stayed with me for years.

What Happened with MCP

I recently wrote about connecting Notion and Google Docs through MCP, and the results have surprised even me. I won't repeat the details here since they're in that post, but ever since I introduced MCP, the flow of information has accelerated dramatically. In particular, I'd been accumulating reviews, task management notes, and brainstorms in Notion for years, and letting Claude read all of this has shifted the meaning of what I'd previously written.

When I first started recording in Notion, it never occurred to me that it might be useful to AI. Of course — I had no way to imagine a time when AI would become this close to everyday life, used in this way. I was just writing for plain, analog reasons — "so I could look back later," "so I could organize my own thinking."

But the moment MCP made it all readable, the feeling shifted. It's as if my past self comes forward to help my current self. Claude answers my current questions while drawing on the reasoning behind old project decisions, or on impressions I'd noted at the time. I've had moments like that more than once now.

Thinking about it: the human brain's memory has limits — even the person who wrote something forgets it quickly. That's why I kept taking notes, leaving behind my thoughts and conclusions at each point in time as a record. And now, in the flow of conversation, AI reads from those records, distills them into a form that immediately fits my current self, and bridges across to me. Whether for grounding decisions or raising the quality of brainstorms and project work — my past self's accumulation comes through directly. That's the structure underneath all of this, and I only noticed it recently.

What I Noticed

When a new technology appears, many people tend to focus on its newness. New tools, new techniques, the sense that we have to do something new with them. I'm the same way — I catch myself thinking I need to add something new on top.
But this time, in my own case, what actually worked was the opposite direction. Using a new tool to draw out the old accumulation I'd built up over years, and to work creatively with it. That was the shape of it.

It wasn't that something new worked — it was that something old took on new meaning. That came as a surprise, and I wanted to write it down.

Maybe this isn't just my story.

The things I've built up over time. Things that look old, things that seem to have lost their value. Maybe the value didn't disappear — maybe there just hadn't been a reader for them yet. And now, there's something that can read across all of it.

Closing

To be honest, over the past few years, watching AI develop so quickly, I've had this worry — that what I've been doing for years might get replaced, that what I've accumulated might have been wasted. A vague anxiety that's been sitting somewhere in the background.

But this time, with MCP, what I'd been collecting in Notion started to do more for me than ever before. It wasn't wasted, I found myself thinking.

For my own part, I want to keep this perspective going forward — alongside chasing new tools, asking how I make the most of what I've built up over time.

Thank you for reading :)

How I Finally Stopped Re-Explaining Everything to AI (Bite-size Article)

koshirok096 — Fri, 19 Jun 2026 20:58:46 +0000

Introduction

As I mentioned in my last post, I've recently started making more serious use of MCP and conversation memory in Claude. Neither of these are new features — they've been around for a while. I just finally got around to actually using them.

The changes turned out to be subtle but significant. My relationship with AI, or the sense of distance between us, shifted more than I expected.

At the core of it, I think it comes down to the elimination of explanation cost — the effort of having to re-explain everything from scratch every single time.

I wrote about MCP in my previous article, so consider this a continuation of that.

(MCP is roughly a way to connect Claude to external services. Conversation memory lets it carry context from previous sessions into new ones. That's enough background to follow along.)

Back When Copy-Paste Was Enough

For a long time, my approach was simple: just copy and paste whatever context I needed into each session. I was curious about MCP, but honestly, I didn't think the lack of context continuity was that big a deal. Yes, copying things over was a bit of a hassle — but you get used to it. It was just part of the workflow.

Then I actually started using both features, and I noticed things I hadn't before.

Re-explaining things introduced subtle drift. Last year, I was working through the detailed specs of a project with AI — things like database schema, naming conventions, and operational rules. When I had to start a new session, the broad strokes carried over fine, but the fine details kept slipping. The AI would interpret things slightly differently, and I'd have to correct it each time. It was a lot of small friction that added up.
I had to re-establish the same foundational context every time. Who the project was for, why I was building it, what direction I was taking it — even when I'd already shared all of this in a previous session, the next one would only have a fragmented understanding. Not zero, but close enough that I'd spend a chunk of time filling in the gaps again.

Looking back, it was tedious work. The kind you don't really notice until it's gone.

What Changed

Now I have Notion and Google Docs connected in read-only mode. As long as I've documented a project's direction, naming rules, and key decisions, Claude can reference that in any session — and the context stays consistent.

There's a prerequisite to this working, though. I've always had a habit of writing things down, even for solo projects. The idea of plans drifting or decisions being forgotten bothers me, so I keep my own documentation in Notion as a matter of course. That habit turned out to be the foundation that made MCP actually useful. Connecting MCP is only half of it — it needs something worth referencing on the other end.

Conversation memory has also had more impact than I expected. When I ask "didn't we talk about this before?", it usually remembers accurately. And sometimes it picks up on context without me even asking — it just knows, and the conversation moves faster because of it.

Things I used to explain every time are now things I don't have to explain at all.

It Felt Like Talking to Someone — Until the Session Ended

When two people talk, the conversation carries forward. You don't start from scratch every time you meet. But that's exactly what AI used to require. Every new session, the previous one had never happened. Same personality, same tone — but no memory of you. You had to re-introduce yourself every time.

That gap was particularly noticeable because the in-session experience felt so natural. Mid-conversation, it really did feel like talking to someone. But the moment a session ended, that sense of continuity broke.

With MCP and conversation memory, that gap has largely closed. The starting point of a conversation has changed. Before, I'd spend the first part of any session getting Claude up to speed on who I am and what I'm working on. Now I can start from a place of shared understanding — and go deeper, faster.

Closing Thoughts

Since I started using both features, I reach useful answers more quickly, and there's less back-and-forth to get there. The density of each conversation has gone up.

That said, it takes some active management. Conversation memory can sometimes over-connect things — drawing links to past discussions that aren't really relevant. And the documents I've connected via MCP can go stale if my thinking has evolved. With both, I've found it's important to stay aware of whether what Claude is referencing still reflects where I actually am. This isn't a passive tool. You have to know where you want the conversation to go.

One more thing: I still haven't given Claude write access to anything. Notion and Google Docs are both read-only. And yet the difference in experience is real. I don't feel any urgency to change that — for now, this is more than enough.

I'm still early in using these features, so I don't think I've found the final answer yet. I'll keep at it, and write again if anything new comes up.

Thanks for reading :)