2025-11-18 17:56:10
From the first episode of Galaxy brain when Hank Green is asked about how the internet feels to him:
it feels so heavy. It feels, we have a government run by the discourse, and so it feels like the discourse matters so much. It feels like everything matters a lot, and I don't know that it does, but I don't know that it doesn't.
It just feels, it all feels very heavy. It's very hard. You know, you can go have a fun time in some corners, but it's always sort of tinged with the weight."
He goes on to talk about changing YouTube titles to play to the algorithm. Making them more outrage-driven just to get views. Hating it but doing it anyway because that's what works.
This is it exactly. The internet is heavy because it's convinced everyone that everything matters urgently and you need to care right now. This company did something terrible. That person said something wrong. Look at this achievement. Buy this course. Get angry. Get inspired. React. Share. Do something.
I just don't give a shit about most of it.
Not the real things that actually matter. But the manufactured urgency? The constant noise demanding my attention? The engagement farming dressed up as activism or self-improvement? No thanks.
Everyone knows it's broken. Creators hate making clickbait titles but do it anyway. I hate clicking them but the algorithm only shows me those. We're all stuck playing a game nobody actually wants to play. The system rewards the worst version of everything, so that's what we get.
The weight isn't real. It's just very good at feeling real when you're scrolling through it. Every feed is designed to make you think you're missing something if you don't engage right now with whatever fresh outrage or inspiration is being served up.
I've found my corners. RSS feeds. My own website. Places without algorithms. Being bored beats being constantly engaged with things that don't actually matter. The weight is optional. You just have to stop picking it up.
2025-11-18 04:07:43
Tonight I felt flat. My wife's been ill for what feels like an age, Lucie's been really poorly, and I've been doing everything. The washing, the cooking, the school runs, the worry. There's no easy way to say it. I'm struggling.
Before bed the house is finally quiet. I'd done everything that needed doing and just thought I'd have a scroll. Check social media. See what's happening.
Everything seemed designed to compound how I was feeling. Bad news stories everywhere. The kind of doom scrolling that pulls you deeper instead of offering any kind of escape. Then Instagram's algorithm decided to show me a load of reels about why men struggle with their emotions. Exactly what I needed when I'm already drowning.
I could feel it all piling on. The tiredness, the stress, the endless stream of content designed to keep me engaged by making me feel worse. My phone is a trillion dollar business designed to keep me scrolling, and tonight it was doing a fantastic job.
Then up pops a dad joke clip. "Why shouldn't you buy trousers from Ukraine? Because Chernobyl fall out."
Stupid. Terrible pun. The kind of joke that would make my kids groan.
And I'm laughing. Properly laughing. All of a sudden, the weight lifts a bit. The world seems like a better place, if only for a moment.
I guess that's life in a nutshell. Not the endless scrolling through manufactured concern and algorithmic manipulation of my emotional state. Not the reels telling me what's wrong with me. Just a stupid joke that catches you off guard and reminds you that not everything has to be heavy.
The irony isn't lost on me. The same platform that was dragging me down also pulled me back up. The same algorithm that fed me doom also served up something that made me smile. Perhaps that's the real problem with these things. They know how to make us feel terrible, and they know how to make us feel better. They're just much better at the former because it keeps us engaged for longer.
2025-11-15 19:03:06
Lee Peterson on iPhone photography.
With an iPhone I have a choice of lenses, it’s blends in more, I have filters I can use in real time and I can edit on the device itself if I want to edit there and then.
I completely agree with this. The iPhone camera is fantastic. For snaps when you’re doing something else, for capturing moments when you’re not thinking about photography, it’s perfect. The best camera is the one you have with you.
When I’m out with friends or doing something and a moment happens, the iPhone gets it. Quick, easy, no fuss. That’s what it’s brilliant at.
But when I actually want to go out and look at the world, nothing replaces a camera. Not for image quality or features. Just for the act of it. Just going out to shoot. Looking at light and streets and people.
The iPhone has a habit of pulling me into other things. Not its fault, just what phones do. A camera just takes photos.
Both have their place. iPhone for life as it happens. Camera for when photography is the point.
2025-11-15 12:50:00
One of my favourite writers, Craig Mod in his Ridgeline Newsletter:
The modern smartphone, laden with the corporate ecosystem pulsing underneath its screen, robs us of this feeling, conspires to keep us from “true” fullness. The swiping, the news cycles, the screaming, the idiocy — if anything destroys a muse, it’s this.
This is it. This is the thing I’ve been circling for years without quite nailing it down. The presence of a smartphone doesn’t just distract us. It actively works against any sense of being satisfied. That feeling of having enough, of being complete in a moment — the phone murders it.
I’ve written about needing barriersto protect myself from my worst habits. About babysitting myself like a child who can’t be trusted. After 40-plus years, I know exactly what I’m like. Give me unfettered access to my phone and I’ll disappear into it. Not doing anything meaningful. Just looking. Refreshing. Checking. The dopamine loop that goes nowhere.
There’s no room left for thoughts to develop, for ideas to form, for anything resembling grace. Just the constant churn of content. The next post. The next story. The next bit of outrage or cleverness or whatever keeps you scrolling.
I felt this most clearly when I spent that time getting uncomfortable on purpose. Taking breaks from the phone. Sitting with boredom. Turns out when you stop feeding the machine, you remember what it feels like to think properly. To have actual space between stimulus and response.
You can see it in how people talk to each other now. How quickly everything becomes a fight. How little patience anyone has for complexity or nuance. The phone trains us to react, not reflect. To consume, not create.
This is why I keep trying to say no to more things. To put distance between me and the constant feed. Not succeeding most of the time, but at least trying. At least recognising that the thing in my pocket wants me hollow and reactive and endlessly scrolling. For me to live a full life I need space in my brain and that happens with time away from the screen. But I always come back.
2025-11-13 23:52:30
My life is so busy at the moment I'm not really living. Merely existing. I'm so busy that I'm always doing something – caring, running, eating, working, designing – I'm always ‘verbing’ but never Gregging. There is no space in between all these things to be me.
My brain only has two states and it constantly rages at me that whatever I'm doing is either wrong or not done enough. Running? Should be working. Working? Should be with the kids. With the kids? Should be writing. Writing? Should be running. Even when I sit still for a moment, I'm thinking about what to do next. Planning. Preparing. Never just being.
It doesn't take more than a few minutes for the uncomfortable feeling to set in when I try to stop. Those tiny pin pricks that raise in intensity, prodding me towards doing something, anything. My attention hasn't wandered and I'm not bored, but my mind will not let me relax. Do something. Be productive. Keep moving.
I've written about this before, about working on my day off because there's nothing else to do. About the restlessness that won't let me switch off. But this feels different. I've crossed a line from being busy into being nothing but motion. There's no me left underneath the doing anymore.
When do I actually think? When do I sit with myself without immediately planning the next thing? I write these posts and tell myself that's my space to exist, but even that's become another task. Another thing on the list. Another verb with Greg attached to it.
I don't know how to exist without doing anymore. I've forgotten what it feels like to just be rather than constantly move to the next thing. The person underneath all the actions has disappeared and I'm not sure how to get him back.
2025-11-12 21:11:00
Patrick George writing for The Atlantic About GMs decision to drop CarPlay going forward:
Last month, General Motors CEO Mary Barra announced that new cars made by the auto giant won’t support CarPlay and its counterpart, Android Auto. Ditching smartphone mirroring may seem to make as much sense as removing cup holders: Recent preliminary data from AutoPacific, a research firm, suggest that CarPlay and Android Auto are considered must-have features among many new-car shoppers.
But according to GM, the company can create an even better experience for drivers by dropping Apple and making its own software. And like it or not, the move says a lot about where the auto industry is headed.
Every car I've owned for a very long time has had CarPlay. It's not the reason I buy a car, but it's something I always check before I do. For longer drives, I'll plug in my phone and use it hands-free without a second thought.
I've spent time with Teslas, and they're the only cars that have managed to get close to the same level of usability. I don't love having to tap a screen for every small thing, I still prefer physical controls, but the software side is excellent. Calendar integration, destinations, quick access to apps. It all makes sense.
The problem is, most car makers have had years to get this right and never have. My current Kuga has SYNC 3, which runs on BlackBerry's QNX. Which sounds terrible and it gets worse when you actually use it. So when I hear that GM thinks it can build something better now, I'm sceptical. I don't know what's changed, but I'd be surprised if this shift away from CarPlay makes anyone's life easier behind the wheel.
The pattern is familiar. Big company decides they can do something better themselves. Announces it with confidence. Then delivers something worse than what already existed. I've seen this enough times with tech companies to know how it usually ends.
GM's reasoning is that they can create a "better experience" by controlling the whole thing themselves. Maybe. But when was the last time an in-car system from a traditional manufacturer was genuinely good? The track record isn't encouraging. Not to mention they have a history of selling your data and making drivers experiences worse.
Apple and Google have spent years refining their systems based on how people actually use their phones in cars. GM is starting from scratch with different priorities—probably ones that involve collecting even more data or selling you subscriptions. That's not creating a better experience for drivers.
I'm not saying it's impossible for GM to pull this off. Just unlikely, and in the meantime, everyone buying a new GM car is the test subject. CarPlay isn't perfect, but at least it works. That's more than I can say for most of what car companies have built on their own.
