Lately, I’ve noticed myself slowing down.

In New York, everything moved fast. Sirens outside the window. Subways rattling underneath your feet. Phones constantly buzzing. There was always somewhere to be, something to check, something pulling my attention away.

Now, living in Poland, life feels quieter. Streets empty earlier. Evenings stretch. Long walks with my dog. Silence isn’t something to escape, it just exists.

That change has gently slowed me down too.

I’ve been on social media less, without really planning to be. I’ve started reading actual books again, slowly. Sometimes rereading the same page just because I want to. I’ve been listening to music offline, not because it’s better, but because it makes me choose. I can focus on the lyrics, the sounds, and actually listen without notification distractions.

It doesn’t feel like I’m pushing things away. It feels like remembering what matters.

That shift has changed how I think about creating in a world full of convenience and AI.

I think AI is genuinely useful. I still use it in small ways, like grammar checks (English/Polish are hard) or for clarity when I’m stuck. But I’ve drawn a line.

I don’t use generative AI to create the core of my work.

I keep the thinking and the decisions human. Not because technology is bad, but because doing the work myself helps me understand what I’m making and why.

Late one night recently, I was working on a few lines. I hovered over the keyboard, tired, tempted to take the shortcut and let something else finish the thought for me.

Instead, I stayed.

I rewrote the sentence a few times. Deleted it. Started again. It finally landed. Not perfectly, just honestly. The work itself was small, but I knew why every word was there. They were my words. That feeling stayed with me.

When we outsource too much of our thinking, we become efficient, but we don’t always become wiser. We start trusting systems without really understanding them.

Sometimes this reminds me of Her, especially the line:

“The past is just a story we tell ourselves.”

Everything in that world is smooth and responsive, yet something human feels distant, like presence has been softened into comfort.

Other times it brings to mind Idiocracy, which jokes, but also warns:

“Welcome to Costco. I love you.”

A world where things still function but meaning and understanding quietly slip into autopilot.

And then there’s Death Note, which lingers in the background for me as a reminder of how easy it is to hand over judgment when something promises certainty. How quickly responsibility can blur when decisions feel automated, even if they start with good intentions.

For me, choosing to do the work myself, even when it’s slower, feels like a small act of care. Care for learning. Care for understanding. Care for making things that are actually mine.

Speed isn’t always progress. Convenience isn’t always growth. Sometimes slowing down is how you stay connected to what you’re building, and why.

-Mikey