11:28 p.m. in Mexico City
A night cap of sorts.
I cannot sleep. I have not been able to sleep well in some time. I hear a cricket outside, to the left of me. Its noise isn’t bothersome, but I pick up something different this time—a certain eagerness or desperation.
The stretch from Thanksgiving Day to New Year’s Eve felt longer than a month this time around. I was simply ready to get 2026 going. No, not because I subscribe to any philosophy of renewal with a new year, but because the world is always at a lull during this period and I have things to do.
Intentionality has been at the center of the ATTEMPT #3 project since its inception; after founding and abandoning handfuls of blogs since my days in high school, this platform would be the one I finally stuck with. At one point, I made it a mission to post a new write-up everyday, but that eventually became overwhelming. During my year-long unemployment, this place became a refuge, allowing me episodes of productivity despite no money coming in. I cherish this memory.
A quick look through the ATTEMPT #3 archive reveals that I’ve written about “being intentional”on more than one occasion. However, the time in-between posts should give you an idea about how that journey’s been. But, the fact you’re reading this proves all hope isn’t lost.
I’ve been feeling inspired. It’s a beautiful thing to be able to think freely, to explore a thought no matter how unfamiliar or ambitious it may be. This very activity has been a joy of mine over the last few weeks, but there isn’t enough time during the day to indulge in it in a satisfying way.
And thus, we’re here.
I cannot sleep because I just want to get started with the next day. I want to wake up early to enjoy breakfast at a fine pace. I want to produce things for Work of which I’m proud. I want to ideate on how to [redacted] and get started on the [redacted] feature for Work. I want to respond to pending texts from friends and call my parents. I want to try a new recipe for me and my wife, and watch dozens of new YouTube Shorts to save some more for another day.
I simply want to live and feel alive enough throughout the day so that when night comes, I’ll be okay if I don’t see another.
It’s officially Friday, Jan. 9, in Mexico City. The cricket—still to my left—continues to chirp. I don’t feel any sleepier than when I opened up Substack to write this, but I feel at ease. I don’t know what the next 23 hours and change will bring; what I do know is that I’ll be showing up—it’s what there is to do.