"And words were not just the pieces of speaking; they were the pieces of thinking. When you wrote them down, you could grasp your thoughts like bricks in your hands and push them into different arrangements."
– excerpt from Exhalation by Ted Chiang
the scientific method
around this time last year i decided to buy myself a proper coffee grinder. it's usually the first investment for anyone interested in brewing a better cup at home. having been a regular coffee drinker for nearly a decade, it felt like the right time to hit "buy now" and have one in my kitchen.
from countless attempts of trial-and-error and fishing for advice from fellow coffee enthusiasts (snobs), i've learned that the key to a tasty cup, apart from the beans themselves, is a controlled extraction. like searing a steak to perfection, the right temperature, timing, and mix of other variables can squeeze out the rich flavors from the beans. likewise, a botched extraction can make even the finest beans taste like burnt cardboard.
even with just an entry-level grinder, i noticed that adjusting one notch coarser or finer could make the same beans taste balanced, acidic, bold, fruity. this led me down a rabbit hole of experimenting everyday—writing down flavors on my notes app, adding more variables, dialing in the right settings to get the cup i wanted. i kept this little system up for a few months; at my worst (or maybe my best?) i was brewing three cups every morning and stocking up beans faster than i could drink.
but this was fun. i loved learning about the range of flavors locked in the beans, and how precisely people could describe a plain black coffee with nothing else mixed in it. for every cup i'd brew, i'd try to sus out what notes i was tasting, fail to tell the difference between lemon or lime, and finally just write it off as "mildly tangy" for the 10th time. frustrating, but i felt that some part of my brain was being unlocked.
i started appreciating food and cooking more. i became a bit more thoughtful with what ingredients i'd add, how they'd change the flavors and textures of the dish, and what combinations might make it more interesting. not long after, i'd become more conscious about describing things that had nothing to do with flavor—the vibe of that playlist i made years ago, why i like that lamp in my favorite cafe.
the most surprising bit of all, and perhaps the most transformative, is that more and more often i'd pause to find the right words to express my ideas and feelings—to other people, and most importantly to myself.
grasping at straws
on a good day, i feel like i'm articulate enough to get by and seem like i know my shit. on a not-so-good day, when i'm trying to explain something i'm don't quite understand to someone else, i meander in my thoughts and serve my poor listener a word salad.
sometimes i can get away with it by thinking out loud and eventually figuring out the point i'm trying to make. but our attention spans are dying, especially in this age of dopamine-gratifying video-scrolling overstimulation. we can't always just wing it.
a bit of reflection and preparation, then, can go a long way. this feels especially true for the moments when our choice of words really matters—a final job interview, a panel discussion, a heart-to-heart conversation. the listener can't always grace you with enough patience and attention. when there's too much to take in, when everything's important, nothing is.
that's why i've slowly made a habit out of journaling. just write anything, however uneventful. untangle any thoughts or feelings, no matter how big or small. identify what's important to me and why.
this started with a bullet list in apple notes i'd update everyday. at some point i needed more guidance, so i moved on to other apps that would help me build the habit through sending me notifications and asking prompt questions. i've settled back into apple notes—bullet lists still reign supreme—but instead of writing on a daily schedule i just pick it up and type away when i feel like it. now that i do it on autopilot, it's nice to know that journaling has become a habit that looks like it's here to stay.
i agonize much more, sometimes even feel paralyzed, when i worry too much about something i can't fully grasp. but taking a few minutes to simply type away on my phone, name the object of my confusion, make it more tangible, and not let it have power over me has given me clarity and relief time and time again. i can step back, look at my confused self from a distance, and finally either find a path forward or leave it for another day.
i'm not naive enough to think that writing is a catch-all solution. some things are too big to be sorted out without help from others or the passage of time. but i'm glad there's a simple and quiet way to pause, reflect, and leave one's worries at the door—or rather, on a page.
and so i tell myself: life's too rich and too short to be spent lost in your own thoughts. get it out of your head and get out there.