Eric "Brickwall" Decker

Scattering your attention around feels like you’re getting more done. It feels productive. It feels like you’re busy.

Juggling, checking, glancing, scrolling. Many fires going at once.

But it’s a trap. Scattered attention carries a tax—quiet, invisible, compounding.

It steals intensity. You never go deep.

It crushes effectiveness. You try to do five things well but end up doing five things poorly.

It subdues attention. You’re never 100% there, present, absorbing the moment.

The tax is subtle but brutal: weaker reps, half-assed projects, and shallow connections.

Pay it long enough and the cost becomes your life.

The antidote? Focus.

Give what’s in front of you your full attention. Finish the rep. Finish the task. Finish the moment.

And then move on.

One battle at a time. Be present for each.

Life is one big training ground.

You do stuff. Stuff happens. You get valuable feedback. You get valuable lessons.

If you look for them.

Many (too many) people don’t look for them. They stumble through life with their eyes closed. Same mistakes, same ruts, same cycles.

Open your eyes.

Learn from everything. Use everything to become better and grow into a better human.

Take control and use life to sharpen you.

Willpower isn’t infinite.

It’s like a battery. Full in the morning, drained by night.

That’s why you don’t save the most important work for later—you do it early.

Work early. Train early. Bond early.

Because by night, the bricks get heavier and your resolve gets weaker.

Now, this doesn’t mean you have to wake up at 5 am.

No, it simply means doing important things first, whenever that is for you. It’s about using your best energy for your most important things.

So do it early, and stack the best bricks because the battery is full.

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.