Last week I marked a year of consistently blogging. And a couple of days later, I got my hundredth subscriber.

100 is, of course, not some fantastic number. Rather, it's a psychological barrier when you realize that now not only friends are reading you. Taking this opportunity, I want to say thank you to everyone who subscribed, reads, and participates in discussions.

And this inscription "100 subscribers" prompted me to pretend that now everything is finally serious. I need a strict content plan, posts 3 times a week. In short, everything like the big shots.

I armed myself with my newly minted service for maintaining a content plan and not the dumbest AI, and with a serious look, I whipped up a content plan for a couple of months ahead.

More precisely, not I whipped it up, but that same AI at my request.

And so today I start working on another post, but I can't write anything. I sit, look at the topic that the AI came up with, and think: at what point did the channel turn from a hobby into some kind of obligation? Did I plan to monetize it somehow? No, I earn money in other places.

Well, then why? Would I myself read a channel that just retells scientific articles with a smart look?

In short, I thought a bit and decided that I don't want to move towards "serious channels"™. Maintain some content plans, publish on a schedule.

I will write when I feel like writing about something. And about what my heart desires. About what happens in life. About boxing, about another attempt to lose weight (comrade major, not that weight), about new hobbies, about successful and not-so-successful pet projects.

And about digital minimalism too. Because this topic is really close to me. But only in the context of personal experience, not a review of another study that proved and revealed something.

That's how it is, doggy (c)