Huberman epitomizes human optimization. He starts his day like clockwork at 5 a.m., exercising rigorously with an Olympic coach-designed routine. His to-do list is filled with meaningful tasks. No one knows where his uncanny drive comes from, but they’re sure he’s going to cure something. Aging, maybe, or stupidity. Something significant..

I wake up at 4 a.m. in anxiety, trying to recall the bad dream that disturbed my sleep, I drink coffee and contemplate. I should do something. Tidy the studio so that I can walk without stepping on a razor blade.

Somewhere in here, I’ll find the essence of something.

I stare at something for a long time, I don’t know how long. A picture forms in my mind but I don’t know how to get there.

Peterson says to embrace responsibility, order, and purpose. Smart guy. 

With a sense of new found purpose and responsibility, I reach for a sketchbook (to schedule a productive day) and markers in rustic shades of sepia and dark umber.

The notes start well enough, but soon the lines begin to blur. The page turns as black as my conviction. I scratch and gouge at it as if it’s some sort of Rosetta Stone, Something appears but I’m not sure what it is. I’m scared, but I don’t know why.

I don’t know what’s going on. Turning to TwitterX in frustration only deepens my confusion, leading me to post my enigmatic doodle in desperation. Feeling unsatisfied, I contemplate going on a meat diet.

The day ends with a sense of accomplishment. I forgot to do yoga but I made a list. Laundry, yoga, ,,, fills me with optimism.

While attempting to meditate, I fall asleep on the couch. I stay there all night even though I know that my neck will be as twisted as my grasp on everything.