朋友圈停用4个月 & 2018年终总结2018 Year in Review (and Four Months off WeChat Moments)

"I carry my own story deep inside, writing out by hand every gain and loss, every joy and sorrow and dream."

—— "A Company of Limited Talent," Jin Wenqi

2018 is drawing to a close, and this marks the fourth year I've written a year-end review.

I hope I can keep this series going for good, so it builds into a memory line and a timeline of my own.

This year is my zodiac year, and as I grow older I want to grow wiser too.

Twelve years ago, at my last zodiac year, I didn't have much in the way of awareness or reflection. This time is different. Yang Yi and Gao Xiaosong once said something similar about turning forty: to be "free of doubt at forty" simply means you no longer have so much curiosity, so much desire, so much restlessness in your heart—so of course the doubts fall away.

This year, I've mostly been working on a few things:

(1) Reining in my curiosity—though I still hope that at forty I'll be, like I was at twenty, a walking magnetic field, brimming with curiosity. I just don't want to accumulate too much social currency.

(2) Subtracting, defining my own boundaries and interests—knowing how big your boundary (your circle of competence) is matters far more than exactly how big that boundary happens to be.

(3) Reading more and thinking more—don't think too much while reading too little, but don't bury yourself only in books either; that leaves you out of touch with real life.

I've written before that China is a place where no one can keep to themselves untouched. And the vast majority of our anxieties are tied to age. A lot of my own anxiety this year came from exactly that.

Strange to say, I'm not really the textbook extrovert. I don't dislike socializing, but I do dislike big social scenes and spending too much time and energy on them.

Many times this year, friends around me have said I'd make good "consumption research material," but I don't fully agree. I'm just the kind of person who, when it comes to something I love and care about, can go all in—pouring in enormous attention, interest, money, even time and energy. So those observations are probably just one expression of, say, my love of sneakers or my love of running.

I've always been an extremely "loyal" user. Coffee, for instance—I only drink Starbucks matcha (even though I'm not really a coffee-or-tea person); running shoes, only Asics; NBA, only the Lakers and Kobe; and so on down the line.

The same goes for every relationship. The only thing that lasts comes from clear-eyed understanding: familiarity, knowing someone, accepting the good and the bad, being willing to make room, knowing what matters and what doesn't, going occasionally blind, going intermittently deaf.

During the months I stayed off WeChat Moments, I did miss some things. I no longer knew, at any given moment, what my friends were up to. Sometimes I'd click into someone's Moments and realize while writing a comment that the moment had long passed—I couldn't share the feeling of the present with them. And with no notifications, I'd miss the comments friends left me, only to receive a pouting "Why didn't you reply?"

But going off Moments also raised the quality of my life. It stopped chopping my life into fragments; I began to enjoy living, and to "steal" back a little pleasure.

WeChat's greatest and most brilliant achievement is that it gives users a powerful illusion: "I have so many friends / I have so many useful social connections / so many people care about how I feel." When you use WeChat and Moments heavily and constantly, this illusion is airtight. The connections look tight-knit, full of a like-minded, nothing-off-limits feeling. Follow the world's logic all the way in, execute its rules of the game flawlessly, and you'll find the "reality" really is like that. Only when you decide to quit the game do you discover that everything you had is gradually vanishing.

A few months after going off Moments, I began to notice clearly that the great majority of "friends" who had drifted "together" for one reason or another had simply disappeared. Apart from a handful of old friends, "reaching out to each other unprompted" had all but ceased to exist (partly because people are busy with work, and partly because we were never that close to begin with). And precisely because WeChat has become basic infrastructure, once you have no WeChat contact with someone, you have no contact with them in any form at all—which, the more you think about it, is a little chilling.

And if you don't even use WeChat's core function—Moments—and haven't happened to interact with someone recently? I can promise you that, unless there's some "useful" tie between you in real life, that friend has at least a 90% chance of ceasing to exist from that point on. Don't believe me? Try it: go completely off Moments for three months and don't say much unprompted either, then tally up afterward—apart from coworkers, classmates, relatives, close friends, and others whose bond is mainly carried offline, how many people still make contact with you.

Experience this enough, think about it enough, and it's easy for a person's mind to tumble into the abyss of nihilism—to feel that nothing amounts to much, that nothing even truly exists. What's interesting, though, is that neither WeChat nor Moments is the original sin here, because some of this has been happening since ancient times—otherwise there wouldn't be so many stories of famous men and hermits passed down to us.

At the same time, though, to a degree, this also lets me sit better with myself. Rein in the urge to please, to flatter, and even the urge to loathe and to hate; don't pick sides, don't cling to grudges, don't harass. This does invite some exclusion, some mockery, some suspicion, even some inexplicable hatred. Of course I know no one lives in a vacuum, and I understand human nature. But I still want to try leaning less on relationships—and I've found, to my surprise, that I actually get along with people more harmoniously. Because I ask for nothing, it's simple.

Being on my own for a long time, only two things truly frighten me: lack of sleep and lack of money. And one thing I've come to understand is that buying, buying, buying doesn't bring me much pleasure or satisfaction. I bought a lot of shoes this year, for instance—buying shoes is my biggest expense apart from travel—but staying in the state of always having money matters far more.

To learn, live, and roam far in a more focused, self-contained way, building a world of my own. To gain knowledge, perspective, and character. Even if I don't know the shows and films everyone around me is discussing, even if I miss the hot topics flooding people's Moments—none of it matters. I don't want my days filled with "meaningless" conversation, and I don't need to worry about which line I have to keep up with. Being liked isn't hard; being respected is.

Below is the 2018 year-end review. Enjoy:

Reading

Travel and reading are the two brightest stars in a life—joy and pain both mixed in. Plant peach, plant plum, plant the spring breeze; when the pear blossoms fall, spring comes round again.

When my eyes tire from reading on the Kindle, I brew a cup of tea or eat some fruit and gaze into the distance to rest them. In the evening I get in touch with old friends, watch a film or a documentary. The weekends feel full and easy.

The reason travel and reading fit together so well is that both can instantly shift your state of mind, and both brim with the thrill of the unknown.

Reading is a way to chat with interesting people you can never meet; it's also the one thing that makes you feel a little less lonely when you're alone. When you're savoring a large, uninterrupted block of reading, you are the only you in the world. You don't have to please anyone. Reading can't solve a problem directly, but it can offer a very good angle on it.

Reading widens your perspective. Perspective restructures the way you frame thought. Thought shapes character. Character determines fate. Starting a company is the best way to know yourself; investing is the best way to know the world. Your way of life determines your investing style.

In 2018, I read about 35 books.

One big change in my reading this year was that my use of WeChat Reading rose sharply—partly to make full use of fragments of time, and partly because paper books and the Kindle can be hard to carry and pull out on the subway or other transit.

Beyond that, I kept up my habit of ranging widely and, whenever possible, reading in solid blocks of time.

(Figure in original.)

Even so, in this era where everything is rapidly turning technological and digital, I've found I still haven't quite accepted or gotten used to reading e-books. When I can, I'd still rather read paper books and use the Kindle.

In 2018, along with revisiting old books, one new turn and new demand in my reading was to put more of my new-book time into literature, history, and philosophy rather than business and the internet. I hope to do the same next year.

(Figure in original.)

I once believed the people and things that mattered would drift slowly away with time—until now, when there are really only two or three good friends left by my side. Plus the books I've grown used to reading on my Kindle. When no one reaches out to talk, chat with yourself now and then; nothing matters more than "letting me understand me."

At the same time, I hope certain people would stop coming to waste my time—because I'd like to "waste" it myself.

Film

In 2018, as of this writing, I watched 66 films in all.

(Figure in original.)

The ones that left the deepest impression: This Is Us, Coco, Secret Superstar, Wonder, Bajrangi Bhaijaan, Forever Young, Baahubali, Animal World, Hello Mr. Billionaire, The Death of Stalin.

Beyond being my main form of spiritual consumption, film means something to me for another reason—because I've always believed: friends are just people whose class, worldview, and interests happen to align; a true confidant is nothing but the former, aged over years.

Reading and watching films are the best ways to break out of an echo-chamber mindset, and both are cumulative processes.

Running

2018 was a bountiful year for running—216 runs in all. To break it down: 3K, 118 times; 5K, 69 times; 10K, twice; half marathon, once; full marathon, once.

On the running front, 2018 counts as a small achievement. For one, I ran another half marathon; for another, I finished the Beijing Marathon. The moment I crossed the finish line, one song felt perfectly on cue: "Oh so high, I feel like life has reached its peak," ha.

I've always been a fitness junkie—basketball, badminton, running especially. I really savor the joy that long-term, steady running gives me.

That joy, that happiness, peaks after every 5K, every 10K, when the world goes so quiet you can hear only your own breathing. Looking down at a T-shirt soaked through with sweat, my heart brims with confidence and satisfaction.

Beyond running, I also tried boxing and taekwondo. In flexibility and other respects, I've come to understand my body more deeply.

(Figure in original.)

In 2019 and beyond, I'll keep running the roads—live to old age, run to old age.

(Figure in original.)

Travel

2018 was a rewarding year for travel too.

My footsteps reached three provinces I'd never set foot in before; at the same time, I secured four visas.

Travel is the unexpected encounter, the winding path, the glorious adventure, the refusal to compromise.

It's to see the world, to live the moment, to experience new things, to raise your limit.

There's satisfaction, there's excitement, but you also have to accept the parts that don't go smoothly. When it all comes to an end, the treasure of memory is still there, glittering.

Career

The first principle of a career: development. As long as you're in the working world, you should demand development—in skill, in awareness, in influence—while income and rank are the inevitable results of that development. Many people mistakenly think that longer tenure at a company is "development." The truth is that many people simply accumulate years of service and age, while their professional skills fail to keep up.

If the cause lies with you, you need to truly wake up and pour energy and resources into improving yourself. If the cause lies with the company, you should switch platforms decisively. And if you're choosing a new platform for the sake of career development, the most important thing isn't the salary—it's the opportunity to develop.

Many people can't distinguish between the difference and the relationship between career development and salary growth, and slip into a crude view: whichever company pays more, that's where I'll go.

But the real anxiety actually comes from "a lack of room to develop." So, thinking with the end in mind, you need to look for a more fitting platform—one that offers broader horizons and extends enough trust. That is what real developmental opportunity looks like.

One of the most useful frameworks for thinking through a career decision is: maximize impact and minimize regret. A decision that satisfies both conditions is probably a good one.

This year, the cooling macro climate became a topic passed "mouth to mouth" among the people around me. I've always positioned myself as a pessimistic optimist. A downturn can't be overcome—it can only be survived. In a trough, the most important thing is to keep your confidence and keep accumulating; beyond that, look for new growth points for personal development and growth. Troughs can't be avoided, but after living through one, your overall antifragility leaps upward the next time you face something similar. Resilience can only be forged in adversity. In good times, carry the composure of one who idly passes the days amid peach and plum and spring breeze; in hard times, hold the calm of one who waits out ten years of river-and-lake rain and night.

People are actually pretty small; the opportunities of the era matter more.

Awareness

All your life, you're paying for your awareness. What you keep doing and choosing is, at bottom, a process of raising that awareness. Large decisions—what career to choose, which industry to enter, when to switch jobs, whether to start a company. Small ones—where to buy some product for the best value, where the trip will be most comfortable. At bottom, they're all choices made from differences in awareness. So all your life, you're paying for your awareness.

Don't fear information "overload"; instead, raise your own bandwidth, improve the effectiveness of your "filter," and keep expanding your storage space and computing power.

When most people hit a computing-power crash, their first instinct isn't to think about upgrading the operating system and the algorithm—it's to slow down the CPU.

I used to worry a great deal about information overload too. But as I've grown over these past few years, I've gradually stopped worrying about it. Instead, I've put my attention on raising my bandwidth (the amount of information I can take in at once), my filter (the ability to find good content), my storage space (methods for storing high-value information), and my computing power (learning and applying high-value information quickly). Put plainly, it's fundamentally a matter of the self: strengthen yourself and everything grows stronger.

At the same time, you need the mindset of not fearing missing out. The reason so many people feel the pressure of information overload is that they don't want to miss a single valuable thing.

Have faith: you won't miss anything of high value, because the high-value information relevant to you will keep coming back to you on its own. What you need is to cultivate, amid more information, your ability to discern and to judge.

Love

Lately I've started chewing on a widely popular bit of love-advice comfort food: become a better version of yourself, and only then will you meet a better person.

But the truth is: whether your salary goes from 5,000 to 50,000 a month, love doesn't get any simpler.

People are willing to do practically anything to win good love: work hard to become rich, good-looking, mature, high-status. The one thing they won't do is truly give of themselves to love. Busy upgrading themselves, they forget what real love actually is. It's not that by becoming a "premium" version of yourself, meeting a "premium" person, you get "premium" love. Love isn't a buy-one-get-one-free deal, and still less is it the spoils of a personal upgrade.

A while ago I came across a lament from Zhuang Yating: "No one cares about love stories anymore. Almost overnight, everyone grew up and slipped into an 'I'm not yet a better version of myself, so let's just leave it for now' state. As if, once you've evolved, a more perfect partner will be waiting for you at the end of the road."

When many people talk about love, they're essentially talking about themselves. Our striving, our leveling-up, has little to do with the love the other person actually wants. They're just the parachutes and safety we hand ourselves when we're afraid of failing. Always afraid of losing because we're not good enough.

The truth is, when love arrives, most people are not at their best. So many people tell themselves: wait a little longer—once I'm a bit more perfect, a bit better, then I'll go and love. When we've all gotten used to earning love through qualifications, you may have forgotten that we used to rely on sincerity and courage. Become a better version of yourself, and you still won't meet better love.

Love isn't some outcome; love is a process, a "building," an act of expressing yourself, of two people tending a relationship. Like the effort of reaching any other goal, the process brings you frustration, heartbreak, and fulfillment.

In the end, when each person looks back on it, what comes to mind is usually what the two of them went through together—the meals shared, the films watched, every conversation, every argument. That's what's truly valuable in a relationship. It's giving your energy and time directly to what you care about—not how much money, power, or looks each of you has separately.

I used to feel I was never good enough, always wanting to work at becoming excellent before I'd go meet the person I liked. Now I've found that excellence never arrives, the road to becoming better never ends, and the person you like is forever slipping past—because of timidity and self-doubt.

Become a better version of yourself, and you still won't meet better love. Two imperfect kids facing the unknown storms together—imperfect, but most beautiful.

The other day I asked a few friends who've entered marriage in the last couple of years about it. The essence of marriage is conversation. After you marry, your relationships and social circle become relatively fixed—and the longer you're married, the luckier it is to have someone you can say anything to, anytime, wherever you are, whatever crosses your mind.

At the same time, never feel a kinship-like fondness for someone just because they like the same band, the same song, the same film as you. That's just an illusion born of being lonely too long; and the bar for so-called "being in sync" is nowhere near that low. Mistaking this for a soulmate is scarier still. We're all specks of dust—being alike or unalike is nothing to get excited about.

If you want to do something, to make good on yourself, a stable emotional state is genuinely important. And that stable emotional state doesn't have to mean being in a relationship. It can be married, it can be single. As long as your emotional state can stay steady for a few years—it doesn't need to be perfect—you can put more of your energy into doing things. An ever-shifting, uncertain emotional state is deeply draining, even tormenting, and its half-life is very long. In the end you can't even put it into words, and the outcome may not be what you wanted—in love or in work.

What's the best state for two people in love?

Creating dreams for each other, helping each other realize those dreams, and, when necessary, compromising your own dream.

Whoever has witnessed and taken part in your dream is the one who has truly existed in your life.

Finally—if we're talking on paper, nearly all men rank looks ahead of brains. In reality, men tend to overestimate how much they love beauty and underestimate how much they love intelligence. They likewise underestimate how much they detest stupidity.

"Brainy is the new sexy." Li Dan and Fu Shou'er can make me laugh, Kevin Tsai can move me—but only Xue Zhaofeng, Chen Ming, and Zhan Qingyun can draw me in deeply.

Wish List

1: Keep doing half and full marathons

2: Go bungee jumping once

3: Keep on the road

4: Keep collecting original-edition paper Harry Potter books

5: Keep waiting for the chance to see them in concert: Jonathan Lee, René Liu, Fish Leong, Bon Jovi.

What I'm Proud Of

A. Finished a half marathon and a full marathon, went to new places, checked off a little under half the wish list. My own awareness and thinking have improved somewhat compared with before.

B. My self-awareness, self-understanding, and self-reflection are still making progress.

What Needs Work

A. In terms of character, there's still plenty to refine and improve.

B. In dealing with people and situations, there's still much I can learn and improve.