Preface
For a long time, I’ve observed a behavioral pattern in myself: whenever I have a computer on hand, I feel compelled to study or work; otherwise, I consider the day wasted. As a result, I’m already exhausted during the day, and by evening—after finishing work—I’m even more drained. This cycle lasts only a few days before I inevitably break down and end up pulling all-nighters.
Main Text
To break this pattern, one month ago I moved my computer to the office and left only a monitor in my dormitory—solely for watching videos. One month later, I can confidently say this has been an excellent decision.
First, the cost is virtually zero. Not having a computer on hand causes no real problems: my daily work is easily handled during office hours, and most urgent tasks can be postponed until the next workday. Moreover, I can borrow others’ computers when needed. My entire workflow is fully cloud-based; Kingsoft Docs’ online features are sufficient to meet all my current Office-related needs—only a keyboard, mouse, and web browser are required.
Second, the benefits are substantial. Without a computer at night, I no longer force myself to “grind.” Since my studying and work heavily depend on a computer, its absence leaves me with no choice but to relax and play. During this period, I watched Chainsaw Man: Reze Arc, viewed over a dozen episodes of Nichijou, and spent dozens of hours playing Balance of Power and Arknights: Endfield. I still pulled all-nighters—but no longer blamed myself, because without the opportunity to progress, there was no reason to reproach myself for missing it.
Yet I still feel exhausted. While evenings truly became free, my days remained intensely busy. Compared to others, my eight-hour workday is one of intense focus—challenging, mentally demanding, and requiring constant vigilance against slacking off or taking breaks. Even my commute and meals involve listening to podcasts and lectures.
I now realize it’s unrealistic to sustain full intensity for eight hours straight. So, I’ll try something new: limiting myself to just six hours per day for all learning, work, and podcast/lecture listening. Outside those six hours, I’ll do only one thing—rest—and absolutely nothing that feels like “self-improvement.”
This approach aims to stabilize my state as much as possible. I’ll reassess after one month.
Postscript
This behavioral pattern likely began back in middle school: I simply couldn’t allow myself to pause—I had to keep moving forward, relentlessly. Now, nearing graduation from my master’s program, over these past fifteen years, I’ve cycled through stages: recognizing its existence → attempting to control emotion with reason (and failing) → becoming exhausted, giving up entirely (“Well, might as well live recklessly forever”) → picking it up again, seeking understanding, dissolving it, probing deeper and deeper for root causes.
Now I understand such patterns are merely locally optimal responses to recurring past situations. Similar scenarios will undoubtedly reappear in the future—but the model can be adjusted anytime. The human brain possesses remarkable plasticity: the difference between me ten years ago and me today > the difference between you and me right now > the difference between humans and dogs. Believe firmly—you do have the capacity and opportunity to change.
Moreover, a behavioral pattern is just that—a pattern. It bears little relation to whether a person is “good” or “bad.” If a sewer pipe gets clogged, you clear it—that’s all. The water isn’t “bad,” the pipe isn’t “bad,” and the sludge isn’t “bad” either.