Why I'm Finally Hitting Publish.

Oct 19, 2025

I've been thinking about this first post for longer than I'd like to admit.

Not because I didn't know what to say. I've got thousands of notes scattered across apps I barely remember installing. The problem was exactly that: I had too much to say, and almost none of it was actually mine.

Here's the thing about being a chronic information consumer: it feels productive. You're learning, growing, staying informed. The dopamine hit from discovering a new framework or stumbling onto a brilliant thread is real. But somewhere along the way, I realized I'd become a very sophisticated echo chamber of one.

I'd read something smart, feel smart, then move on to the next smart thing. My brain was basically a CDN for other people's ideas: caching them, serving them up in conversations, but never really transforming them into something that belonged to me.

The Problem With Always Listening

The dangerous part isn't just the consumption. It's that consumption starts to replace creation. You're so busy absorbing everyone else's first principles that you forget to derive your own.

And it's subtle. You internalize some concept (let's say, "productivity frameworks" or "product-led growth") and it quietly installs itself as gospel. You'll find yourself making decisions based on someone else's framework, applied to their context, solving their problems. Until one day you actually stop and think: "Wait, do I even agree with this? Does this work for my life?"

Usually the answer is uncomfortable. You've been carrying around ideas that aren't really yours. They're borrowed. Rented. Sometimes completely wrong for your situation.

Turning Down the Volume

So I've been running an experiment: consuming less, thinking more. Less scrolling, more staring at the ceiling. Less collecting, more connecting.

And something interesting happens when you turn down the external noise. Your own signal gets clearer. Ideas that are actually yours start showing up.

They're not revolutionary. They're probably not even original in the grand scheme of things. But they're yours in a way that matters. They came from your brain doing its own work. From observations you made. From problems you actually faced.

Here's what surprised me: some of my best ideas showed up when I was doing completely unrelated things. Cooking. Walking. Staring out a window during a call. Turns out your brain needs space to synthesize, not just more input to process.

That counts for something.

Why Share Anything At All

Which brings me to the obvious question: if I'm trying to reduce consumption and think for myself, why start a public notes section?

Because ideas are only half-useful in your head.

I've been collecting notes for years. Observations, patterns, things I'm figuring out. They sit in files and apps, perfectly preserved and completely inert. What's the point? Ideas want to do something. They want to collide with other ideas. They want to be tested, challenged, built upon.

And maybe, if I'm lucky, putting this out there means finding people who are wrestling with similar questions. People who see things slightly differently and make you think harder. The kind of people who might actually be part of the journey instead of just passing through your feed.

So this is me finally hitting publish.

What This Is

This space is going to be rougher than typical blog posts. More honest. Sometimes half-formed. The kind of thing you'd write if you were thinking out loud, not performing for an audience.

Things I'm figuring out. Patterns I'm noticing. Ideas I'm testing. Some polished, some raw. All of it as genuine as I can make it.

I don't know if I'll keep this up. I've started blogs before (haven't we all?) and watched them quietly die of neglect. But maybe this time is different. Maybe starting from a place of having thoughts rather than trying to have thoughts will make the difference.

Or maybe not. We'll see.

Either way, if you're reading this: welcome. You're early. Stick around if you want. There might be something useful here eventually. If not useful, then at least interesting enough to make you think your own thoughts.

Which, honestly, is kind of the whole point.

I've been thinking about this first post for longer than I'd like to admit.

Not because I didn't know what to say. I've got thousands of notes scattered across apps I barely remember installing. The problem was exactly that: I had too much to say, and almost none of it was actually mine.

Here's the thing about being a chronic information consumer: it feels productive. You're learning, growing, staying informed. The dopamine hit from discovering a new framework or stumbling onto a brilliant thread is real. But somewhere along the way, I realized I'd become a very sophisticated echo chamber of one.

I'd read something smart, feel smart, then move on to the next smart thing. My brain was basically a CDN for other people's ideas: caching them, serving them up in conversations, but never really transforming them into something that belonged to me.

The Problem With Always Listening

The dangerous part isn't just the consumption. It's that consumption starts to replace creation. You're so busy absorbing everyone else's first principles that you forget to derive your own.

And it's subtle. You internalize some concept (let's say, "productivity frameworks" or "product-led growth") and it quietly installs itself as gospel. You'll find yourself making decisions based on someone else's framework, applied to their context, solving their problems. Until one day you actually stop and think: "Wait, do I even agree with this? Does this work for my life?"

Usually the answer is uncomfortable. You've been carrying around ideas that aren't really yours. They're borrowed. Rented. Sometimes completely wrong for your situation.

Turning Down the Volume

So I've been running an experiment: consuming less, thinking more. Less scrolling, more staring at the ceiling. Less collecting, more connecting.

And something interesting happens when you turn down the external noise. Your own signal gets clearer. Ideas that are actually yours start showing up.

They're not revolutionary. They're probably not even original in the grand scheme of things. But they're yours in a way that matters. They came from your brain doing its own work. From observations you made. From problems you actually faced.

Here's what surprised me: some of my best ideas showed up when I was doing completely unrelated things. Cooking. Walking. Staring out a window during a call. Turns out your brain needs space to synthesize, not just more input to process.

That counts for something.

Why Share Anything At All

Which brings me to the obvious question: if I'm trying to reduce consumption and think for myself, why start a public notes section?

Because ideas are only half-useful in your head.

I've been collecting notes for years. Observations, patterns, things I'm figuring out. They sit in files and apps, perfectly preserved and completely inert. What's the point? Ideas want to do something. They want to collide with other ideas. They want to be tested, challenged, built upon.

And maybe, if I'm lucky, putting this out there means finding people who are wrestling with similar questions. People who see things slightly differently and make you think harder. The kind of people who might actually be part of the journey instead of just passing through your feed.

So this is me finally hitting publish.

What This Is

This space is going to be rougher than typical blog posts. More honest. Sometimes half-formed. The kind of thing you'd write if you were thinking out loud, not performing for an audience.

Things I'm figuring out. Patterns I'm noticing. Ideas I'm testing. Some polished, some raw. All of it as genuine as I can make it.

I don't know if I'll keep this up. I've started blogs before (haven't we all?) and watched them quietly die of neglect. But maybe this time is different. Maybe starting from a place of having thoughts rather than trying to have thoughts will make the difference.

Or maybe not. We'll see.

Either way, if you're reading this: welcome. You're early. Stick around if you want. There might be something useful here eventually. If not useful, then at least interesting enough to make you think your own thoughts.

Which, honestly, is kind of the whole point.

I've been thinking about this first post for longer than I'd like to admit.

Not because I didn't know what to say. I've got thousands of notes scattered across apps I barely remember installing. The problem was exactly that: I had too much to say, and almost none of it was actually mine.

Here's the thing about being a chronic information consumer: it feels productive. You're learning, growing, staying informed. The dopamine hit from discovering a new framework or stumbling onto a brilliant thread is real. But somewhere along the way, I realized I'd become a very sophisticated echo chamber of one.

I'd read something smart, feel smart, then move on to the next smart thing. My brain was basically a CDN for other people's ideas: caching them, serving them up in conversations, but never really transforming them into something that belonged to me.

The Problem With Always Listening

The dangerous part isn't just the consumption. It's that consumption starts to replace creation. You're so busy absorbing everyone else's first principles that you forget to derive your own.

And it's subtle. You internalize some concept (let's say, "productivity frameworks" or "product-led growth") and it quietly installs itself as gospel. You'll find yourself making decisions based on someone else's framework, applied to their context, solving their problems. Until one day you actually stop and think: "Wait, do I even agree with this? Does this work for my life?"

Usually the answer is uncomfortable. You've been carrying around ideas that aren't really yours. They're borrowed. Rented. Sometimes completely wrong for your situation.

Turning Down the Volume

So I've been running an experiment: consuming less, thinking more. Less scrolling, more staring at the ceiling. Less collecting, more connecting.

And something interesting happens when you turn down the external noise. Your own signal gets clearer. Ideas that are actually yours start showing up.

They're not revolutionary. They're probably not even original in the grand scheme of things. But they're yours in a way that matters. They came from your brain doing its own work. From observations you made. From problems you actually faced.

Here's what surprised me: some of my best ideas showed up when I was doing completely unrelated things. Cooking. Walking. Staring out a window during a call. Turns out your brain needs space to synthesize, not just more input to process.

That counts for something.

Why Share Anything At All

Which brings me to the obvious question: if I'm trying to reduce consumption and think for myself, why start a public notes section?

Because ideas are only half-useful in your head.

I've been collecting notes for years. Observations, patterns, things I'm figuring out. They sit in files and apps, perfectly preserved and completely inert. What's the point? Ideas want to do something. They want to collide with other ideas. They want to be tested, challenged, built upon.

And maybe, if I'm lucky, putting this out there means finding people who are wrestling with similar questions. People who see things slightly differently and make you think harder. The kind of people who might actually be part of the journey instead of just passing through your feed.

So this is me finally hitting publish.

What This Is

This space is going to be rougher than typical blog posts. More honest. Sometimes half-formed. The kind of thing you'd write if you were thinking out loud, not performing for an audience.

Things I'm figuring out. Patterns I'm noticing. Ideas I'm testing. Some polished, some raw. All of it as genuine as I can make it.

I don't know if I'll keep this up. I've started blogs before (haven't we all?) and watched them quietly die of neglect. But maybe this time is different. Maybe starting from a place of having thoughts rather than trying to have thoughts will make the difference.

Or maybe not. We'll see.

Either way, if you're reading this: welcome. You're early. Stick around if you want. There might be something useful here eventually. If not useful, then at least interesting enough to make you think your own thoughts.

Which, honestly, is kind of the whole point.

Thanks for Stopping By.

Carpe Diem.

Sharan's Signature

Copyright Sharan Varma 2025. All Right Reserved.

Thanks for Stopping By.

Carpe Diem.

Sharan's Signature

Copyright Sharan Varma 2025. All Right Reserved.

Thanks for Stopping By.

Carpe Diem.

Sharan's Signature

Copyright Sharan Varma 2025. All Right Reserved.