When I socialize, I feel drained both when I try too hard to adjust to others and when I try not to adjust at all. Basically, I don’t dislike spending time with people—I actually try to surround myself with those I feel comfortable with. But if I focus only on the part of me that struggles with social interactions, this is what it looks like. The hardest part is drawing the line between when to go along with others and when not to. When I see people who seem to live firmly by their own principles, it looks like they’re living as the main character of their own story, and I find that cool. But no matter how independent they look, they still have to compromise with others at some point. Everyone has to decide for themselves where to draw that boundary. In my case, I make that boundary based on pros and cons. For example, if someone says, “You should read this book,” I weigh the downsides—like the time I’d lose or how awkward it feels to refuse—against the upsides, such as my genuine interest in the book or the chance to understand that person better. Sometimes I read it, sometimes I don’t. In the end, what matters in most interactions is a mix of pros and cons tied to the relationship itself—things like “I want to know more about this person” or “It’s hard to say no.” These parameters—trust, liking, closeness—are what make drawing the boundary so difficult. Since every choice sacrifices something, that’s where I end up spending my energy in social life. People sometimes tell me I’m “too accommodating,” while at other times they say I’m “detached.” Probably, the closer I feel to someone, the more the “I want to know this person” parameter grows, and the more likely I am to adapt to them—so it looks like I’m being overly accommodating. On the other hand, with people I’m not that close to, I must seem more distant. Today’s writing feels like I just dressed up something obvious in fancy words, and I’m not that satisfied with it. It feels scattered, like my thoughts didn’t come together well. Compared to that, I really like the piece I wrote the other day, “A Change in How I Listen.” If you’re curious, I recommend that one.

Lately, I’ve noticed that I don’t feel annoyed by people bragging as much as I used to. In the past, being around someone who bragged made conversations exhausting. But these days, unless it’s truly excessive, I actually find myself wanting to hear more. Of course, constantly meeting someone who brags all the time would still be tiring. But if it’s just someone at a drinking party or someone I happen to talk with for a night, it doesn’t really bother me anymore—I even feel like digging deeper into what they’re saying. Reading this back, it might sound like I’m showing off—“Look at me, I can stay calm in situations that most people would find annoying.” And to some extent, that’s true. Maybe I do feel proud of being able to look at people from a different angle. But honestly, I also feel that I’ve genuinely started to see bragging less as bragging, and more as something else. When talking to anyone, I believe they have plenty of qualities that surpass mine, and at the same time, I also have qualities that surpass theirs. Even Elon Musk or Steve Jobs, as great as they are, surely have areas where I’m better. Realizing this perspective has been a big reason why I no longer feel envy when someone brags. If someone is sharing something they’re proud of, it simply means they’re talking about one of their strengths. And I want to learn from or understand that strength. Meanwhile, I also have my own strengths, so I don’t feel the need to compare in a negative way. Actually, I don’t even like calling it “bragging.” That word carries a negative tone. I’d rather call it “talking about strengths.” It feels more positive, and it better reflects what’s happening: someone is speaking with confidence about what they’re good at. This way of thinking—“everyone has strengths I don’t, and I have strengths they don’t”—has helped me in many areas of life. It makes me feel less bitter and more at ease. Even if someone bumps into me on the street or shouts something rude, I can think, “Here, getting angry is their weakness, and ignoring it is my strength.” That perspective helps me avoid anger and stay focused on what I value about myself. I think this mindset is one of the most important parts of who I am right now. It’s Saturday today, and I ended up writing more than I expected. But since it was the first time I put these thoughts into words, I feel like I made good use of my day off.

Lately, I’ve been drinking umeshu on the rocks around 10 p.m. Strangely, having a drink at night seems to switch on my focus. Instead of drifting around, I find myself being more serious and deliberate. I don’t really know why, but maybe drinking makes me feel like a slightly different version of myself—and that version of me behaves differently from my usual self. My recent evening routine after finishing work around 7 or 8 p.m. looks something like this: Dinner → 20-minute walk → 30-minute workout → bath & reading in the bath → 30-minute stretching → drink → app development → Netflix for English learning → skim an English grammar book → brush teeth → read → sleep (around midnight). Written out like this, it looks like a pretty packed and productive post-work routine. Seeing it on paper even surprises me. I guess I have a bit of an “ambitious self-improvement” streak, and maybe I’m forcing myself to stay busy because I don’t like idling around. Also, I know I tend to present myself in a good light, so some of this is probably idealized—it’s not always like this. This is more like my “best-case” routine, something I aim for rather than achieve every night. What bothers me lately, though, is that even though I touch on English, app development, workouts, and so on, everything ends up feeling half-done. I manage to keep the routine for a while, but a month later something drops off, and it’s as if nothing really accumulates. I’ve wanted to build muscle for years, improve my English, and release more apps, but basically nothing has changed from a few years ago. I’m just keeping up routines that look productive, filling my days so I don’t feel idle, and satisfying myself with the image of progress. But still, just being alive every day makes me happy enough. And that’s okay.

I stopped wearing my Apple Watch about a month ago. The main reason was digital detox. I didn’t like having a device strapped to my wrist all the time, with notifications constantly pulling at my attention. Whether I was with someone or at work, I wanted to focus on that moment. But just by wearing the Apple Watch, I felt my attention being chipped away, and it frustrated me. After quitting, though, I don’t feel like life has gotten better—or worse. In the end, it didn’t make much difference. I realized it wasn’t really digital detox either, because without the watch, I simply ended up checking my phone more often. The amount of attention I give to digital devices hasn’t changed. What I really want is to limit my smartphone use to about 30 minutes a day. That’s the level of distance I want to put between myself and my phone. I’ve heard that just having your phone visible while working can drastically lower your concentration, and I believe it. When I spend less time looking at my phone and put that time elsewhere, the day feels longer and more fulfilling. I know this from experience, too—when I travel, I hardly touch my phone, and that itself feels like real digital detox. Recently, I’ve been trying to reduce smartphone use by watching YouTube or checking social media on my iPad instead. It feels like a small barrier—using the iPad requires just enough extra effort that I don’t overdo it. Thanks to that, I think my smartphone screen time has dropped a little. Step by step, I want to experiment with different approaches. By the end of this year, I’d like to bring my smartphone usage down to about an hour a day.

I recently went to the Osaka-Kansai Expo. That day, about 240,000 people visited the venue. It’s incredible to think that so many people were packed into a limited space. I’m not particularly fond of crowds, but since the Expo is being held in my hometown, I felt it would be a waste not to go. So I decided to take a look, almost like going for a walk. The Grand Roof Ring was an impressive piece of architecture, and the pavilions themselves were stunning to see. I didn’t actually enter any of them—just wandered around for a little over two hours before heading home—but I’m still glad I went. On another note, I work as an iOS engineer, and I also do a bit of personal app development as a hobby. Recently, I’ve been spending more of my free time building my own apps. One of them has nearly 10,000 downloads, and it’s currently free for anyone to use. However, I’ve started to feel that leaving it free might be a missed opportunity. A senior colleague of mine successfully monetized their own app, and it made me realize that if I put in the effort, I could also expect a modest revenue stream. Of course, making money isn’t the sole purpose of building apps, but it’s also true that revenue is essential to keep development sustainable. That’s why I’ve decided to focus for a while on monetizing the app I already have. My goal is to release an updated version with monetization features by the end of September.