Mapping the Uncertainty (Or Why I’m Logging My Way Through 2021)
It’s New Year’s Day here in Brisbane. January 1st, 2021. The hell year of 2020 is in the rear view, and the coming year is shiny and new and only a little splattered by the ongoing shit it inherited from the previous 365 days. I woke up this morning, wrote three pages, then spent an hour walking around the neighbourhood to check out the damage New Year’s wrought. Here, in my neck of the woods, it’s mostly roadside vomiting and evidence of some kind of car accident at the intersection near my house. More than I expected, as we seemed to be taking things quietly last night, but nowhere near the New Year’s record. Once home, I made a coffee and fired up a fresh logbook for the year. I picked up the logbook habit from Austin Kleon, who advocates for the practice on his blog and in his book Steal Like An Artist. The process is basically what it says on the tin: log all the major things you do across a day in one place, so you’ve got an ongoing record of your year and what you did with it. It’s also a way of keeping track of little details: when did I last put the electric toothbrush on to charge (or, for that matter, when did I last change the brush head)? When was the last time I contacted X about that project? How long has it been since we started watching that TV show? All of