Logs

Most people think reading means novels or textbooks.

They think it has to be hours with a book in hand.

But reading isn’t about format—it’s about feeding your mind.

Sure, it can be a book.

It can also be a blog.

A magazine.

A newspaper.

Even AI summarizing something for you, if that’s what you like.

The point is this: reading is resistance training for thought.

Every sentence you absorb forces your mind to wrestle with ideas, perspectives, and clarity.

Skip it, and your mind gets flabby and weak.

Do it daily, and your thinking grows muscular and strong.

It doesn’t take hours—fifteen focused minutes beats fifteen distracted scrolls.

Read something that builds you, every day. Books, blogs, or briefs—just make it weight, not fluff.

People think writing is inspiration.

Lightning bolts, muses, coffee-shop vibes.

It’s not.

It’s reps.

The first words are the warm-up set.

When you really get going, you’re in the working set.

Publishing? A session well done.

Writing daily? Progressive overload.

You might not always want to write—just like you might not always want to train.

But you do it anyway.

Because that’s how you grow.

Writing is a muscle too.

Write daily. Build daily.

I dropped $21 on what came out to eight scoops of ice cream.

Now—I’m a tightwad. Spending money makes me shiver.

My first thought?

You know how much protein $21 can buy? (Musclebuilder through and through.)

My second thought?

I could’ve gotten four whole quarts of top-shelf ice cream for the same price. (Brickwall loves his ice cream.)

But here’s the thing—it wasn’t about the ice cream. And it wasn’t about the money.

It was about my kids.

It was about presence.

It was about creating a shared experience.

It was about legacy.

My mom and dad took me out for ice cream. Now I take my kids.

Logically, rationally—I got ripped off.

But sometimes logic is wrong.

Sometimes the irrational choice is the right one. The most rewarding one. The one that gets remembered.

Because the ice cream gets eaten (fast). The money’s gone. But the memory sticks.

I asked an app for apartments in my price range.

It sends me million-dollar homes.

That isn’t helpful—it’s noise.

Baseball updates are noise to a football fan.

Parenting articles are noise to someone without kids.

Dating advice is noise to a married man (you’d hope).

Relevance is key. Pinpoint.

Relevance is mercy for your time and a multiplier for your results.

Cut the noise. Lock the target. Stack the bricks.