The Alchemy of Distraction and Creation

A Treatise on the Modern Dilemma of Work and Play

Let me tell you something you already know but refuse to admit: you are addicted to the carnival.

Not the kind with cotton candy and Ferris wheels, but the digital one—the endless scroll, the dopamine drip, the illusion of progress.

You are a player in a game where the stakes are your time, focus, and potential.

And the house always wins.

I once knew a man—brilliant, driven, the kind of person who could recite Kant before breakfast and solve differential equations for fun. He was writing his dissertation, a magnum opus on something obscure and vital. But then He discovered Tetris. Not the arcade version, mind you, but the digital one—the one that lives in your pocket, whispering, “Just one more game.” Six months of his life vanished into those falling blocks. Six months of rent, of tuition, of life. All for what? A high score that evaporated the moment he put the device down.

And then there’s me. Five hours on a plane, hurtling through the sky at 500 miles per hour. Five hours to write, to think, to create. But what did I do? I turned on the Wi-Fi. I scrolled, I clicked, I consumed. I emerged from that metal tube no richer in thought, no closer to creation. Just… tired.

This is the paradox of our age: the tools that empower us to create are the same ones that seduce us into distraction. The laptop, that sleek productivity altar, is also a portal to infinite diversion. We tell ourselves we’re working when we’re just playing dress-up in the theater of busyness. Words With Friends feels like a victory, but it’s a hollow one. The endorphins fade, and all that remains is the ghost of time wasted.

So here’s my proposal, my two-device manifesto:

Divide your digital kingdom. Let your computer be a temple of creation, where you forge something of lasting value. Let your iPad (or whatever second device you choose) be your playground, confessional, and escape. Draw a line—any line—between the two. If the line feels arbitrary, redraw it. The act of separation is what matters.

When you pick up the iPad, let it be a conscious act. Say to yourself, “This is my break.” And if you find yourself taking too many breaks, well, there’s a lesson in that, too.

But here’s a more profound truth: creation is complex. It requires focus, discipline, and a willingness to sit with discomfort. Distraction, on the other hand, is easy. It’s the path of least resistance, the dopamine hit that costs nothing and gives even less.

We live in a world that glorifies busyness but undervalues creation. We confuse motion with progress and activity with achievement. But the market—that ruthless arbiter of value—does not care how many hours you spend scrolling. It cares only for what you bring into the world.

So go, make something. Write the book, build the app, and launch the venture. Do it not because it’s easy but because it’s hard. Do it because the world needs your voice, vision, and contribution.

And if you fail, fail gloriously. Fail in pursuing something meaningful because the only thing worse than failure is the regret of never trying.

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PS: I am not here to preach. I am here to provoke. This is to remind you that time is the one resource you cannot replenish. Use it wisely.

PPS: If this resonates, welcome to 8 Figures. If it doesn’t, well, there’s always Tetris.

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Jack Roshi, PhD
MIT, Applied Mathematics
Professional Dart Thrower, Follower of Christ
May the LORD Bless You and Your Loved Ones