We're in the tale end
No it's not a typo, I'm being clever lemmealone
Neil here! This is my ~10 days newsletter to my close friends! One of the main goals of the neilsletter is to keep in touch with people I won't interact with as much anymore; you can do that with a short reply to this email. Apparently a lot of my friends read them, but I never hear about it because they don't respond; that's why any reply, even a single emoji, suffices. All past issues can be found here. Si vous ne parlez que français, utilisez Google Translate!
I.
We're in the tail end
I won't be home—my permanent residence, that is—for all of summer save a handful of days. Then I'll move to another town. So the last time I was in my old room... was one of the last times ever.
I'm about to switch from spending 90% of my nights in my room to spending ~5% of the year in my room. Out of total lifetime spent in my room, I'm at the very end of the graph. In the tail end.
This was not expected. Summer used to feel like a vast, empty stretch of time to fill at whim; now it feels like a handful of too-busy weeks! I radically underestimated my time left. The last day in my childhood room crept up on me and caught me unawares.
My aunt told me it was the same as the last day she used a stroller to move her kid around. There certainly was a last stroller day, but that day didn't feel like the last. The gradual decrease in stroller usage bypassed her awareness completely.
There's no sudden stop for most things. For almost everything: no-where along the line is it clear you're nearing the end of the line.
Life doesn't feel like an overlapping cross-section of tail-ends, even though it is.
Even small, relatively meaningless things can hit hard when you notice you're in the tail end. When I was young I didn't think I'd ever stop reading Uncle Scrooge comics; these days, I read very little. I'm probably in the final 10% of Uncle Scrooge comics I'll have read in my entire life. Ditto for all kinds of activities I'd engage in as a kid, in a room I won't be living in anymore.
Maybe it's just as well. Sudden stops, e.g. a loved ones' death, don't feel good. Gradually entering the tail end will cause spikes of bittersweet nostalgia if you're aware enough, but that's all. It might be a good thing, too: doing new things all the time implies being in the tail end of just as many.
So we're left with no other resort than that one (corny?) ~ Dr.Seuss quote:
I first heard of this idea from Tim Urban. There's also a Kurzgesagt video about it.
II.
Creating a daily survey: recommended
Every night (in principle) I fill in a Google Form to collect data on the day. I can later look back at the results.
I initially did this to spot interesting correlations and estimate e.g. how much sleep I need to feel optimally happy. Nowadays, its main value is in keeping my eyes on the prize; I work better when I know my day's impact will be estimated before bedtime, and my habits tallied.
I designed a template for you with all the indications that have been useful for me. It can be found here. Obviously, the more customization on your part the better.
An excerpt:
III.
Gratitude, encore et toujours
I made a Google Form for you to list things you're grateful for. The Form will bounce back your answers to you, so you can search your inbox for past answers. It's a thing no one does because no one reminds them to.
Do it. It's cheap, and it works. It's not corny because society won't know you did it. Shhh.
Here's the shortened link you can memorize: tinyurl.com/form-gratitude
Two Earthlings. John Brosio, oil on canvas
If you don't use the Form, you might want to write down 3 things you're grateful for anyway. I listed the reasons why that's a good idea here and here.
IV.
General news:
University administrative turmoil means I'm essentially stuck between two universities and have no idea which I'll end up joining. Not worth an explanation on my part, because it's boring.
Non-Trivial program has begun, which means working on a project (I'm collaborating with a guy on biosecurity and machine learning)
The Count of Monte-Cristo is a good book. I'm trying to learn a sort of quality of intensity from the main character.
Swimming in the sea is an uncomfortable experience; saltwater is sticky, itchy, and cold. But swimming in it despite the inconvenience is what makes it a good place to think for me. Perhaps the desire to escape your body and situation leads to seeking refuge in your mind, which makes thought easier?
A few people I don't know yet have found the newsletter by accident on Substack and are now on the list. I was not expecting this. But it's great news! Welcome, folks! To... whatever this is.
V.
“If you do not want to write, at least spit on a piece of paper, put it in an envelope, and send it to me. You are not taking any notice of me at all. God forgive you – all I wanted was a few words from you.”
- Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky
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