DEV Community: koshirok096

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 :)

From "Asking AI" to "Delegating to AI" — Trying Out MCP (Bite-size Article)

koshirok096 — Fri, 12 Jun 2026 19:54:42 +0000

Introduction

A while back, I wrote a post about switching my main tool from ChatGPT to Claude. It's only been a few months since I made Claude my primary AI, but I've been really happy with what it can do, and I've grown quite fond of it.

I'm still in the trial-and-error stage, but recently I got curious about Claude's "Connector" feature and started experimenting with it. As a simple first step, I connected my Notion and Google Drive — and the experience changed my relationship with AI more than I expected. So I figured I'd jot down a few notes, partly as a memo to myself.

This is fairly introductory content, so it may not be useful for those who are already familiar. But if you're anything like the past version of me — someone who has heard of MCP but doesn't quite have a feel for it — this might be worth a read. Feel free to stick around if you're curious.

What is MCP?

In short, it's a common standard for connecting AI to external tools and data.

Here's an analogy. Imagine you have an SSD full of data. As long as it supports the USB-C standard, you can plug it into just about any device with a single cable and access the data. MCP plays a similar role: as long as a service supports it, Claude can read directly from Notion or reference files in Google Drive.

From "Asking" to "Delegating"

This is just my personal take, but until now, whenever I asked AI for something, the process went like this: organize the situation in my head, summarize it or copy-paste the relevant info, and then ask the question. Once I connected MCP, the AI started fetching the context on its own.

It sounds like a subtle change, but the difference in feel is pretty significant. I had actually known about the concept of MCP for a while, but I'd dismissed it with "if I need to reference something, I can just paste it in and explain, right?" Once I actually tried it, though, the back-and-forth of information became dramatically faster — and as a result, all the work that I should be moving forward (brainstorming, planning, tasks) sped up significantly.

Also, at some point — I don't remember exactly when — Claude gained the ability to reference past conversations (currently only on the Pro plan). With most of the upfront context-setting no longer needed, the pace of pretty much everything went up another notch.

I get a sense that this is a step beyond what AI used to be — not just a "tool to talk to," but more like an assistant or a partner who works alongside you. It might be an overstatement, but that "wait, this is different from before" feeling I had when I first started using it has stuck with me even now.

What I've Actually Tried

Just a few concrete examples. Here are some of the ways I've been using it:

Weekly reviews: Once a week, I keep a record of the previous week's data (logs of what I did, daily notes, work memos, and so on). Before, I would manually go through them every Sunday, clean up notes, and summarize. Now I just point Claude to the right database and ask, "Read through this week's journal and summarize it," and it's done. The whole copy-paste-and-organize step disappeared. Of course, hallucinations and AI mistakes do happen, so it's safer to look over important parts yourself — but those cases are rare, and even when verification is needed, it's still far more efficient than doing everything by hand.
Digging up past decisions: When I ask things like "I remember deciding something like this a while back — is the rationale recorded anywhere?", it'll search for related pages and pull them up. The task of searching through my own Notion has, in a sense, been handed off to AI.
Data analysis: I often keep work management sheets and data in Google Sheets. This kind of analysis is right in AI's wheelhouse — depending on the data, it's quite handy for spotting trends or thinking through strategy.

None of these are flashy use cases, but the small daily frictions slowly disappearing adds up in a way that's quietly powerful.

About Permissions

For now, I'm a bit nervous about AI accidentally deleting or editing important notes, so I'm running everything in read-only mode with no edit permissions.

Depending on what I'm working with and which tools I connect down the line, I might grant edit access later — but even with read-only, it's genuinely useful.

Conclusion

I've only just started, so I'm still getting a vague sense of how useful this really is. I'll keep experimenting, and if I gather enough material, I might write a follow-up.

Thanks for reading to the end.

Why a Short Task List Can Still Feel Heavy (Bite-size Article)

koshirok096 — Fri, 05 Jun 2026 20:39:46 +0000

Introduction

I could not really think of a topic to write about today, so I would like to write a short memo based on something I recently experienced and what I learned from it. I am not sure if it will be useful for everyone, but if you are interested, I would be happy if you read it.

Recently, I had a day with many tasks that required brainstorming. More specifically, they involved things like coming up with ideas, planning, and designing the structure of future work.

I had already organized what I needed to do, so the tasks were neatly listed in my task list. If I only looked at the number of tasks, it did not look like too much.

I thought, “I should be able to move through this in one day.” But in reality, even by the evening, I had not finished everything. I had to move one task to the next day, and several other tasks were only partially done rather than completed.

Tasks That Are Easy to Estimate and Tasks That Are Not

What I realized again from this experience is that it can be risky to estimate the weight of a day only by the number of tasks.

This may sound very obvious. However, when tasks are lined up one by one in a task list, they can start to look like they all have a similar weight. At least in my case, I think I was unconsciously seeing them that way.

Some types of work are easy to estimate.

For example, a one-hour meeting, work that is scheduled for a fixed number of hours, or simple tasks with clear steps have a relatively visible time frame.

On the other hand, tasks like brainstorming and planning are a little different.

After you start thinking, you may need to organize the assumptions, compare different options, or notice another issue along the way. The same applies to programming design or planning work. There are parts that you cannot really estimate until you actually start working on them.

In a task list, every task appears as a single line.
But in reality, their weight can be completely different.

Even a task like “check the materials” may finish quickly depending on the content, or it may take much longer if it requires judgment.

Tasks like “think about a project,” “decide the design,” or “decide the direction of an article” may look short in the list, but they can require a lot of mental effort.

In other words, having only a small number of tasks does not necessarily mean the day will be light.

There Are Limits to Estimation

Then, you might think that the answer is to estimate more carefully at the beginning.

Of course, some level of estimation is necessary. Rather than listing tasks without thinking, it is better to separate them into things like “this seems heavy” and “this seems quick.”

However, when it comes to thinking-based tasks, there are limits to estimation. This is because there are many things you cannot know until you actually start.

Sometimes, you only notice the complexity of the problem after you begin working.
Sometimes, another option appears while you are thinking.
Sometimes, it takes time just to organize what you actually need to decide.

In other words, at the estimation stage, the inside of the task may not be fully visible yet.

If that is the case, spending too much time on estimation can become another heavy task in itself.

Maybe the important thing is not to predict everything perfectly, but to plan with the assumption that some tasks cannot be fully predicted.

What I Can Do

Since perfect prediction is difficult, it may be more realistic to make plans on the assumption that some tasks are hard to estimate. For example, there are a few things I can do.

Create a buffer

On days with many thinking-based tasks, I can keep the schedule a little lighter.

Instead of assuming that everything will go according to plan, I can leave room for the possibility that something may take longer than expected.
Especially on days with tasks like brainstorming or planning, it feels safer to leave some open space.

Avoid putting too many thinking-based tasks into one day

If I put many tasks like brainstorming, planning, writing structure, or project decisions into the same day, the day becomes heavier than the number of tasks suggests.

Even if the number of tasks looks small, the overall load can be quite high if they require a lot of thinking.

Also, even if I manage to finish those tasks, they create a different kind of fatigue compared to finishing simple tasks. When my brain is tired, it can affect the quality of later decisions and work.

So, on days with many thinking-based tasks, it seems better to leave some extra room from the beginning.

Set a midpoint instead of aiming for completion

Thinking-based tasks can feel heavy if I assume that I must complete them on the same day.

For example, it may be more realistic to set a midpoint as the goal, such as:

Come up with three possible directions
Create a rough draft
Gather materials for making a decision
Organize what needs to be decided next

Sometimes, I start a task thinking it will finish quickly, but after beginning, I realize that it is heavier than expected. In that case, instead of trying to force myself to finish everything, it may be better to break the task down at that point and decide how far I will go today.

The goal is not necessarily to “finish” it, but to bring it to a state where I can move forward next time.

Mark tasks that are hard to estimate

Some tasks are easy to estimate, and others are not.

If I label tasks in advance as “hard to estimate,” it becomes harder to judge the day only by the number of tasks.

For example, tasks like brainstorming, planning, decision-making, research, and writing structure can have a label such as “estimation caution.”

Even that small label can help me notice, when building a schedule, that “this is only one line, but it may not be light.”

Conclusion

Today, I wrote about a pitfall in task estimation that can happen when I try to process tasks too mechanically.

Of course, I understand in my head that not all tasks in a task list have the same weight. If the content is different, the required time and concentration are different too.

However, when I am tired or when I make daily plans without thinking too deeply, I can end up deciding the day’s tasks without paying enough attention to those differences. At least, I feel that this was happening to me.

Especially with thinking-based tasks like brainstorming and planning, a single line in a task list can expand much more than expected. Even if the number of tasks is small, the day can become quite heavy if they require a lot of mental effort.

Personally, when I make a plan for the day and cannot finish it as planned, it can affect me mentally for a while. That is why I think daily planning is actually quite important. When I plan the day, I want to look not only at the number of tasks, but also at their weight and how difficult they are to estimate.

It is difficult to estimate everything perfectly.
But even just noticing, “This task may be hard to estimate,” can change the way I make a schedule.

Just because the number of tasks is small, it does not necessarily mean the day will be light.
I would like to keep this in mind when planning my days from now on.

Thank you for reading!

Knowing Doesn't Mean Feeling (Bite-size Article)

koshirok096 — Fri, 29 May 2026 19:55:01 +0000

Introduction - Knowing Doesn't Mean Feeling: Why Logic Fails to Stop Our Emotions

When I feel like work is falling slightly behind, I find myself adding tasks along the way, thinking "if I just push a little harder today, I can catch up." In that moment, I'm moving on feeling rather than solid reasoning — just a vague sense that it's doable if I try.

But looking back, that judgment often makes things worse. The added tasks don't get done and leave a psychological weight as a sense of failure, or I force my way through but the quality suffers.

The anxiety is driving the decision, and yet in that moment, I'm convinced I'm thinking clearly.

Separate from that, another example. There are days when I've checked my finances and confirmed that things are fine for the month. But then, a few days later, sales come in a little lower than usual. That's all it takes. Before I know it, thoughts like "I don't have enough money" and "this isn't going to work out" are growing in my head. The facts I confirmed not long ago seem to have quietly disappeared somewhere.

This isn't my own experience, but I sometimes hear about people who keep getting cosmetic surgery despite already being objectively attractive. The feeling of "still not enough" just doesn't stop. I think the underlying mechanism might be the same as the two examples above.

All three share the same quality: knowing something in your head doesn't stop the emotion from moving on its own. I tried to break down why that happens.

"Knowing" and "Feeling" Run on Separate Systems

When I looked into it, there was a framework in psychology that mapped almost exactly onto this. There's a framework popularized by Daniel Kahneman called Dual Process Theory.

The idea is that human thinking runs on two distinct systems: a fast, automatic, emotion-driven System 1, and a slow, deliberate, logical System 2.

The key point is that these two don't operate as equals. Most of our everyday judgments are led by System 1, with System 2 often following behind to rationalize the conclusion. "Knowing something in your head" is System 2 territory. But what drives emotions is System 1. They run on different tracks, so no matter how much you try to reason with yourself, the logic doesn't reach where it needs to go.

In the work example, the anxiety (System 1) had quietly mixed into the judgment of "I can handle this if I push a bit" (System 2). In the money example, the feeling of fear (System 1) was gradually overwriting a fact that had already been confirmed — "things are fine this month."

When Emotions Become Evidence

There's a related concept called Emotional Reasoning: the pattern of thinking where "I feel anxious, therefore something must be wrong." The emotion comes first and gets treated as evidence for a conclusion.

The money example is a clear case of this — the anxiety itself was functioning as proof that there wasn't enough money. The cosmetic surgery example might work the same way: the feeling of "still not enough" becomes the fact of "still not enough."

There's also something called Motivated Reasoning — unconsciously avoiding uncomfortable information, or automatically steering away from questions you'd rather not sit with. In the work example, there was probably some of this too: instead of honestly asking "can I actually handle this much?", the thinking moved straight toward the conclusion that it was fine.

Both patterns are less about willpower and more about emotions shaping the direction of thought — which is a more useful frame than blaming yourself for not being logical enough.

So What Actually Helps

If logic doesn't reach System 1, the approach needs to come from a different direction. Here's what I've tried that seems to work, at least somewhat.

Labeling
Putting words to what's happening — "I'm in an anxiety spiral right now." Research on affect labeling suggests that simply naming an emotion can reduce its intensity. There's something to it: when you can name what's happening, it starts to feel slightly less overwhelming.

Working through the body
Deep breathing, going for a walk, drinking water. It sounds basic, but System 1 is deeply connected to physical sensation. Changing the state of your body can shift the emotional state along with it.

Choosing the right moment
When you're exhausted or in the middle of a strong emotional reaction, System 1 is running at full capacity. Decisions and self-reflection made in that state tend to be lower quality. The ability to think "this isn't the right moment to figure this out" has to be built in advance, during calmer times.

Using external rituals
Writing things down, changing your physical location, doing a specific routine. Rather than trying to solve everything inside your head, letting the environment help shift your state.

Conclusion

I used to think understanding something meant it would change. It's not that simple.

That said, knowing the structure does make it a little easier to step back from self-blame. System 1 working this way isn't a flaw — it's how it's built. The problem, if there is one, is being carried along by it without noticing.

Understanding is just the entrance. That's roughly where I've landed. Using what's useful, where it fits.

Thank you for reading :)

Reference: Daniel Kahneman, Thinking, Fast and Slow

When Stress Disguises Itself as Rational Planning (Bite-size Article)

koshirok096 — Fri, 22 May 2026 21:09:03 +0000

Introduction

Hello. Today, I want to write a short article about something I recently noticed while working. This is partly a note to myself, and partly a reminder.
Over the past few weeks, I had been feeling a little overwhelmed by everything I needed to do.
Every day, I had the feeling that things were not moving forward the way I wanted. When I looked back on the weekend, I found that many of the things I had expected to finish were still unfinished. But I could not clearly tell what the actual problem was.
I vaguely felt that I needed to change something, so I tried adjusting my task management, changing my schedule, and tweaking different parts of my workflow. But nothing really changed.

Looking Back, I Noticed the Real Problem

So the other day, I decided to take some time and look back at several days that had not gone well.
As I reviewed them, I noticed a common pattern. On those days, I had almost always added something unexpected to my schedule during the day. And the trigger was usually the moment when I felt that I was already slightly behind.
In other words, every time I felt behind, I was unconsciously trying to catch up.

When I think about it now, this was a reaction to stress. But in that moment, I did not feel like I was stressed at all.
“If I make some progress on this today, I can recover a little bit of the delay.”

When I thought that way and acted on it, it felt like a calm and realistic decision.

I did not think stress was driving my judgment. I thought I was simply looking at the situation and adjusting my plan rationally.

Looking back, it seems obvious. But in the moment, I did not notice it at all.

The Loop I Found

As I continued reflecting on it, I started to see a pattern.

I fall a little behind
↓
I think, “I should be able to catch up a little”
  ※ At this point, it feels like a rational decision
↓
The plan becomes unrealistic, so I either cannot finish it or the quality drops
↓
I fall further behind
↓
I feel stressed again

The problem was not just falling behind itself. The real issue was that the stress created after falling behind disguised itself as “rational judgment,” and I kept pushing myself without realizing it.

Why Putting It Into Words Helps

At first, I thought the way to break this loop was to become the kind of person who does not feel stressed when plans fall behind. But that is difficult to do in a short period of time.

What felt more realistic was to pause when I noticed the stress.

More specifically, to put it into words.

“Maybe I am feeling stressed because I am behind.”
“Is this really something I need to do today, or am I just trying to catch up?”

When you feel overwhelmed by too many tasks, “putting it into words” may not seem directly related to the problem. It does not reduce the number of tasks. It does not erase the delay.
But in this case, the problem was happening at the cognitive level. Stress was mixing into my judgment unconsciously. If that is the case, the intervention also needs to happen at the cognitive level.

Putting the feeling into words is a way to make the stress visible. Once it becomes visible, it becomes easier to notice when I am being pulled into it.

Conclusion

When things are not going well, I quickly start thinking, “I need to change my method.” But this time, I realized that the issue was one step before that.

I thought I was making decisions, but I was actually being moved by stress. Noticing that “I thought I was being rational” may be the turning point.
The next time I feel the same way, I want to first put into words what I am reacting to. That alone may help me act a little differently.

As a side note, the thing that helped me notice this stress was a conversation with Claude. I think the same thing could probably happen by talking to another person.
When I tried to explain the situation I was stuck in, I finally started to see what I had been reacting to. I wrote in this article that putting stress into words makes it visible, but in fact, the reason I started writing this article was that I had already experienced that process.
Depending on the AI tool and how you use it, talking to AI can be a relatively easy option when it feels hard to talk to someone else, or when your thoughts are too messy to organize on your own. If you ever feel similarly overwhelmed, you might try explaining the situation to an AI and checking whether stress has quietly mixed into your judgment or actions.

Thank you for reading.

Learning the Term “Tool Sprawl” Helped Me Rethink My Distance from Tools (Bite-size Article)

koshirok096 — Fri, 15 May 2026 20:35:42 +0000

Introduction

Whenever I discover a new tool that might be useful for work or personal use, I like to try it. If something catches my attention, I often touch it at least once. At the same time, I am quite careful about whether I actually bring it into my main working environment.

When I try a new tool, there is often a moment when I think, “This might make my work easier.” But at the same time, I also start thinking about how to manage it, how to organize its usage, and whether it can really fit into my existing workflow. Because of that, I often use a tool briefly and then end up leaving it alone.

In the past, I sometimes felt that this meant I was not using tools well enough, or that I was being too conservative.

I tried something, but did not continue using it.
I created an account, used it a little, and then stopped.

Those small unfinished feelings sometimes stayed with me.

Learning the Term “Tool Sprawl”

Recently, I learned the term tool sprawl.

Simply put, it refers to a state where tools increase in an uncontrolled or disorganized way. Each tool may look useful on its own, but before you know it, you may have several tools with similar purposes, and it becomes unclear which one should be used for what.

For example, you may have multiple places to write notes. You may have several task management tools. Even with AI tools, there are now many options such as ChatGPT, Claude, Gemini, and Perplexity.

Of course, having more options is not bad in itself. By trying new tools, you may find something that fits you well. In fact, I also enjoy trying new tools.

However, I think the real issue is not simply the number of tools. The issue is that you have to keep thinking about how to use them properly.

Which tool did I write this in?
Which tool should I use for this task?
Among similar tools, which one should I continue using?
What should I do with the tools I am not using?

Each of these decisions may look small. But when they pile up, they take up more mental space than expected.

This is where the idea of _cognitive load_ becomes relevant.

Cognitive load, simply put, is the idea that there is a limit to how much information the brain can process at one time. It is a concept often used in educational psychology, and it is related to Cognitive Load Theory, which became widely known through John Sweller’s 1988 paper and related work.

Human working memory cannot process that many things at the same time. When information such as tool usage, storage locations, notifications, and workflow rules keeps increasing, the attention available for the actual work gradually decreases.

For example:

Time spent wondering, “Where did I write this?”
The mental cost of switching context every time you move between apps
Noise from notifications coming from multiple places
A vague anxiety like, “Am I using this tool properly?”

These are not the work itself. But they still consume mental resources.

Tools are supposed to make work easier. But at some point, managing the tools themselves can become part of the work.

That was the part that made the most sense to me when I learned the term tool sprawl.

I Am Not Seriously Struggling with It

To be honest, I do not feel that I am seriously struggling with tool sprawl.

Rather, I think I am the type of person who likes trying new tools, but is careful about making them part of my main workflow. For example, I used ChatGPT for a long time, but even after trying Claude, Perplexity, and Gemini, I did not immediately bring them into the center of my workflow.

Recently, as I wrote in another article, I started using Claude more seriously in addition to my almost ChatGPT-only workflow. But that was not an impulsive switch. It was a decision I made after thinking about it quite carefully.

I used to see this cautious tendency as a somewhat passive attitude. Maybe I should use more tools properly. Maybe I am falling behind new technology. I sometimes felt that way.

But after learning the term tool sprawl, my perspective changed a little.

Trying and Adopting Are Different Things

Trying a new tool and adopting it into your main environment are two different decisions.

Trying itself is not a bad thing. In fact, there are many things you cannot know unless you try them. So I think it is good to stay aware of new tools and try things that seem potentially useful, as long as it does not become too much.

However, if you try to “properly use” every tool you test, the burden starts to increase.

In that sense, briefly trying a tool and then leaving it alone is not necessarily a failure. If there is little harm, it may simply mean that you naturally filtered out something that did not fit you.

Also, even if you do not use a tool as your main tool right away, touching it once still has value. When you actually try it, you develop an impression or feeling about that tool. Even if you do not use it now, you may later face a different problem and remember, “Maybe that tool could help.”

In other words, trying a tool is not only about adopting it immediately. It can also be a way of keeping a future option somewhere in your mind.

I have written several articles on Dev.to about how I use tools in my daily workflow, including tips and hacks around tools such as Logseq, Obsidian, Notion, ChatGPT, and Claude.

But looking back, there was a lot of trial and error before those tools became part of my workflow. In some cases, I compared one tool with another, used it for a while, and gradually integrated only the ones that remained useful.

In other words, I have not continued using every tool I tried. Actually, there are many tools that I touched once but never really adopted.

Maybe the danger is not increasing the number of tools itself. The danger may be trying to integrate every tool you try into your work and life.

Conclusion

The reason I wrote this article was that I learned the concept of tool sprawl.

It felt like a vague feeling I had never fully put into words finally had a name. I like trying new tools, but I become careful when deciding whether to bring them into my main workflow. That caution may not simply be conservatism. It may be a natural response to avoid increasing cognitive load too much.

I think my own way of thinking is probably part of it too. I often wonder, “Is there a better tool?” or “Is my current way of working inefficient?” or “Should I try another tool?”

Of course, looking for better options is not a bad thing. But if I keep questioning my current environment every time, my attention may shift from using tools to constantly choosing tools.

So the next time I try a new tool, I want to first touch it lightly. Then, instead of judging it too quickly, I want to later ask myself, “Is this worth bringing into my main workflow?”

Trying something and adopting it.

Just separating those two decisions may make my relationship with tools a little easier.

Thank you for reading!

From ChatGPT to Claude: You Don’t Really Know a Tool Until You Keep Using It (Bite-size Article)

koshirok096 — Fri, 08 May 2026 18:44:07 +0000

Introduction

Recently, I switched my main AI tool from ChatGPT to Claude (though to be precise, I’m still using both for now).

I had been using Claude here and there as more of a secondary tool for some time, but ChatGPT had always been my main one. Since I had already been paying for ChatGPT, I felt reluctant to switch and had a hard time committing to using Claude seriously. But once I decided to make the move, I noticed quite a few things, so I wanted to share them here as a personal note.

Why I Hesitated, and Why I Finally Switched

I was generally satisfied with ChatGPT, but I sometimes felt it was a bit too agreeable, which made it slightly less satisfying for brainstorming or using as a sounding board for critical thinking. Some of that could be improved with better prompting, but there had long been a sense that the overall feel just didn’t quite match what I wanted.

On top of that, I hadn’t felt much momentum in my work over the past year, so I wanted some kind of change. Around the same time, I also started hearing more and more people talk about moving from ChatGPT to Claude, and that made me think I should seriously give it a try myself.

That said, because all of these tools fall into the same general category of AI chatbots, and because I had already tried Claude, Perplexity, Gemini, and others while still keeping ChatGPT as my main tool, I had thought of them as more or less “similar enough.” That made it surprisingly hard to fully commit to switching. More specifically, I had concerns like these:

I had work-related tools built with GPTs — ChatGPT has GPTs, which users can customize and create. They’re useful because you can make them for your own personal workflows as well. However, creating and editing them requires a paid plan. So if I ended up switching to Claude as my main tool and moving ChatGPT to the free plan, I was concerned that maintaining and updating the GPTs I had made for myself might become difficult.
I wasn’t sure whether the answer quality would meet my expectations — As mentioned earlier, I did feel a certain lack in ChatGPT’s responses, but there were no major or fatal problems with it. I had heard good things about Claude, but switching a tool that I rely on heavily for work is still risky. Even if it might improve over time, it could just as easily get worse.

In the end, when your dissatisfaction isn’t that big to begin with, changing tools feels heavier than you’d expect.

What I Learned After Actually Using It

Once I started using Claude seriously, both of those concerns turned out to be resolved much more easily than I expected. For my own use cases, Projects could mostly replace GPTs, and the response quality was more than good enough for me. In fact, I even had the impression that Projects allowed more detailed customization and felt more flexible than the GPTs I had been using.

What struck me even more, though, was how different the actual experience felt, even though both are AI tools in the same category.

My impression was that ChatGPT tended to be more agreeable and often built on whatever direction I was already leaning toward, whereas Claude felt more critical and more willing to make firm judgments. But it didn’t feel like it was making those judgments carelessly — rather, it felt like those answers came after some actual thought. That suited me better.

I had also been somewhat dissatisfied for a while with the way ChatGPT sometimes tried to produce an answer even when my information was vague or incomplete. Claude, by contrast, seems much more likely to hold back from giving a definite answer when it judges the information to be insufficient, and instead asks follow-up questions first to draw out what it needs. Honestly, that was eye-opening for me. Which style is better probably depends on the user and how they use the tool, but for me, Claude feels like the better fit.

Overall, Claude gives me the impression of being more interactive and better at leading the conversation. Even when I can’t clearly explain what I want, it feels like it helps me organize a path toward the thing I’m actually looking for. I find that very comfortable.

That said, I should note that I have not done a careful side-by-side comparison by asking both tools the exact same questions. These are simply my subjective impressions based on having started using Claude more seriously.

That Said, I Still Don’t Know Yet

Even so, it hasn’t been that long since I started using it, and there are still many things I haven’t fully tested.

Just in case, I’m still keeping my paid ChatGPT plan for now and using both at the same time, so I haven’t yet reached a final conclusion about which one is better for me overall. Depending on how things go, I’m even considering keeping paid plans for both, though that admittedly feels a bit wasteful.

Since I decided to make the switch, Claude released Opus 4.7 with benchmark results that drew a lot of attention, while ChatGPT has also continued rolling out upgrades and releases at a very fast pace, including GPT-5.4, ChatGPT Images 2, and GPT-5.5. Both companies seem to be evolving rapidly. It’s extremely difficult to decide which one is truly better, and even if one seems to pull ahead for a while, it feels like the other may quickly catch up and overtake it again.

At least for me, both leave a good impression right now — but I’m not overly optimistic either.

Keeping at It Comes Before Mastering It

What this experience of switching tools reminded me of is that until you actually start using a tool, you can’t even tell whether it suits you or not.

Before worrying about whether you can master a tool, what matters first is starting to use it — and continuing to use it. That requires making the decision to simply take the first step. And once again, I felt that taking that first step was the hardest part.

To be honest, I had been interested in moving to Claude for quite a long time. But for the reasons I mentioned above, I couldn’t quite make the decision. This time, though, I finally went ahead with it, and it reminded me once again that you really don’t know until you try. I still don’t know whether the outcome will ultimately be good or bad, but at the very least, most of the worries I had before starting turned out not to be such a big deal in reality.

Not just with tools, but in general, I wonder if many of the things that make us hesitate come from the fears and assumptions we create before we even begin.

Conclusion

The real nature of a tool rarely reveals itself right away. You usually can’t understand it by just trying it briefly. It’s only by continuing to use it that you gradually begin to see your compatibility with it, as well as the particular habits or quirks the tool itself has. I think that’s just how it is.

What this transition reminded me of is that in order to understand a tool, “continuing to use it” comes before “mastering it.” In my case, I spent a lot of time hesitating because of all the concerns I had before even starting. But rather than trying to judge too quickly whether something is good or bad, it may be more important to spend a certain amount of time with it first. That mindset itself may be an important part of choosing the right tools.

Thank you for reading!

Taking Notes to Forget — The Idea of Cognitive Offloading (Bite-size Article)

koshirok096 — Fri, 01 May 2026 21:00:08 +0000

Introduction

Today I want to write about note-taking.

I've always had this sense that I take notes in order to forget things.

Rather than trying to retain information, I prefer to just move it into a note-taking app and get it out of my head. It makes me feel lighter — and that's been my style for a long time.

It was something I did purely on instinct, but recently I came across a concept called "cognitive offloading," and it made me think — maybe my instinct wasn't so off after all. Writing this one down as a note to myself.

What Is Cognitive Offloading?

Cognitive offloading refers to the act of delegating part of our memory or thinking to external tools, reducing the load on the brain.

A 2011 study by psychologist Betsy Sparrow and her colleagues found that when people know they can look something up on Google later, they tend to remember where to find the information rather than the information itself. This has been called the "Google Effect."

Writing things down in a note-taking tool might work in a similar way — the brain treats it as information that's been handed off to the outside.

"Forgetting" often gets a bad reputation, but the brain has limited resources, and trying to remember everything comes at a high cost. The way I think about it: note-taking apps are the external hard drive; my head is the CPU. It's a division of labor.

My Own Experience

This is just from my own experience, but when I make a habit of moving tasks and things I'm curious about into a note-taking app right away, my head feels clearer. The nagging sense of "wait, what was that again?" fades, and I find it easier to focus on what I'm actually doing.

There are things I genuinely need to remember, but most day-to-day information falls into the category of "fine to forget — as long as I can find it when I need it." That's the role notes play for me.

Things I'm Careful About

That said, offloading too much can quickly lead to a state of "I have no idea where anything is." Here's what I try to keep in mind.

Decide where things go and set some management rules — If finding a note takes more effort than it's worth, the whole system falls apart. It helps to decide in advance where and in what format to save things. In my case, Notion is my home base for pretty much everything, but I use Logseq for daily task lists and Obsidian for quick, unstructured notes. I also consult ChatGPT and Claude fairly often, and since I sometimes want to look back at those conversations, I tag threads with UIDs to make them easier to retrieve. None of this is strictly necessary, but having some kind of management system that fits your lifestyle makes a real difference — at least for me.
Sometimes, deliberately don't take notes — For things I actually want to remember, I try not to write them down immediately. Instead, I let them sit and solidify in my head first. Holding back from reaching for the notepad — that pause — seems to help things stick. (This does run counter to the "move it out right away" approach, so in practice, I find myself making a quick judgment call whenever I encounter something: do I note this down, or do I try to remember it?)
Review your notes regularly — Notes that just pile up and never get looked at aren't really offloading — they're just neglect. There's a reason you took the note in the first place, and forgetting you ever wrote it defeats the purpose. I try to set aside time once a week — usually Sundays — to skim back through things.

Conclusion

"I take notes to forget" sounds a little strange when you say it out loud. But in terms of not spending too much mental energy on retention, I think it's actually a pretty reasonable approach.

Learning the term "cognitive offloading" gave me a bit more clarity on something I'd been doing all along without really thinking about it.

Thanks for reading!

Do the Hard Thing First (Bite-size Article)

koshirok096 — Fri, 24 Apr 2026 20:33:28 +0000

Introduction

Lately, I've been noticing something: the tasks I tackle first thing in the morning are the ones where I feel the most focused throughout the day.

Of course, the quality and pace of work vary depending on the task and the situation. I can't say this applies across the board.

But at least from my own experience, what I start in the morning tends to make the most progress over the course of the day.

There's an idea that willpower and concentration deplete the more you use them — sometimes called "decision fatigue." In the morning, that depletion hasn't happened yet. No emails have come in. Nobody has asked anything of you. It's the time of day with the fewest external interruptions — and that window is often just the first few dozen minutes of the morning.

Regardless of how motivated you feel, it's an environment that works in your favor. When I think about it that way, it makes me want to treat those morning hours a little more carefully.

Starting the Morning Smoothly with Lists and Priorities

Personally, if you asked whether I'm a morning person — honestly, not really. Some days I can't get up early, and other days I hit snooze multiple times and end up rushing.

Even so, there's one habit I've kept up. The night before, I prepare a task list for the next day.

The tool I use is Logseq, which lets you assign A, B, or C priority levels to tasks. I use this to sort tasks from highest to lowest priority. Since the list is already ready when I wake up, getting started in the morning is remarkably smooth — I just look at the list and start from the top.

When I manage to get the high-priority tasks done in the morning, the whole day feels more stable. Finishing the most important things during the time when focus is high and interruptions are few — that alone makes the afternoon feel much lighter.

"Start with What Matters Most" — Harder Than It Sounds

As I mentioned, my approach relies on the structure of the tool itself: combining a task list with priority levels to more or less automatically determine the order of work each day. That said, even with a clear priority order, I still find myself reaching for easier tasks or things I'm simply in the mood for.

That's not always a bad thing. Sometimes a low-priority task has to be handled in the morning because of scheduling constraints. And warming up with lighter tasks isn't inherently wrong either. The problem is when it becomes a habit — because then the important tasks get nudged back a little more every day.

From my own experience, there's a clear difference between days when I finish high-priority tasks in the morning and days when I don't. Even if I've checked off a lot of easy tasks, if the important ones are still sitting there untouched, I end the day with a lingering feeling of "I didn't get to what actually mattered." Over time, that turns into chronically unfinished work and projects that barely move forward.

That's exactly where the morning comes in. By bringing high-priority tasks into the window when focus is at its peak and interruptions are minimal, I get a sense throughout the day that "the things that matter are moving forward." Even on days when the routine breaks down, that's the one principle I try not to let go of.

Closing

I wrote this article as a way of reflecting on something I noticed recently.

When I kept telling myself "I'll do it in the afternoon" for tasks I tended to procrastinate on, they just kept getting pushed back further. Once I noticed that pattern, I started moving those same tasks into the morning — and it made a real difference.

Even now that I understand this, I still don't execute it perfectly every day. But simply being more conscious of how I use my morning hours has changed how the day feels.

I wrote this partly as a note to myself — and I hope it's useful to someone else too.

Thanks for reading!