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The 3 AM Question
It’s 3 AM and I’m awake again. Not because I’m anxious or worried—because my mind is buzzing with blog tasks. CSS tweaks I want to try. A post idea that won’t let go. SEO adjustments that suddenly seem urgent.
Rain canceled farming yesterday, which means I have a whole day for my websites. Two of them, actually—this one and an older site I’m refreshing. I should be sleeping, but instead I’m mentally organizing my to-do list, already excited about getting started.
When I can’t get back to sleep, I do what I always do on days off: head to 7-Eleven around 4 AM for coffee and fresh air. It’s my ritual—a walk in the quiet darkness, some exercise to balance what will otherwise be a physically lazy day at the computer.
At 4 AM, I don’t shower. Nobody’s around to see or smell me. I just dress, wash my hands, swig some mouthwash, and head out. That early morning walk is my incognito time—freedom from presentation concerns before the world wakes up.
But later in the day? That’s when I start debating. It’s Sunday afternoon, I need something from the store—do I actually need to shower first? Who’s going to notice? Does it really matter?
The fact that I’m even having this internal debate makes me wonder: Is this devotion, or is this becoming something else?
Have you ever been so consumed by something you love that basic things like showering became negotiable?
When Rain Becomes a Gift
Here’s what concerns me a bit: when my farming boss texts to say rain has canceled work, my first feeling is relief. Almost excitement. Not because I don’t like farming—I do, it’s grounding and physical and good for me. But because a canceled day means uninterrupted time for my websites.
Three times in the past ten days, rain has given me unexpected days off. Three days where I could focus entirely on blogging, improving OldDogZeroTricks, working on technical challenges that fascinate me. And when those days happen in succession with only 3-4 hours of sleep because I’m too excited to stay asleep? My concern for “showing up properly” in public starts to slip.
The dental pain I dealt with recently made the sleep deprivation worse—there were nights I got maybe two hours total. But even after the pain resolved, the pattern continued. Wake up at 3 AM. Think about blog tasks. Can’t get back to sleep because my mind is already working through the day’s projects.
This is me in my element. Completely absorbed in something I love doing. But it’s also me skipping showers to get to the convenience store faster so I can get back to my computer. It’s me wearing increasingly casual clothes because who cares when you’re just going between your apartment and your desk.
When does being “in your element” become being consumed?
The Clothes Question Nobody Asks
I live in a working-class area. Sometimes when I’m out during the day, I might see an older person at the mall or supermarket wearing things that make me do a double-take. Bright pink tracksuit bottoms that look like they usually stay on the couch. Slippers instead of shoes. Mismatched outfits that suggest they got dressed without looking in a mirror.
I don’t judge them. How could I, when I’m standing in my own apartment debating whether my jeans from yesterday are “fresh enough” for a quick trip outside?
What I wonder about them—and about myself—is this: Do they realize how they look? Do they care? Are they comfortable enough to just not worry about it? Or are they so absorbed in whatever they’re doing that presentation doesn’t register?
I also live next to a horse racing track. On race days, I see crowds walking past my apartment—many of them clutching newspapers, some even reading them while they walk. They’re focused, consumed, already mentally at the track studying statistics and making bets. That’s the kind of absorption I recognize in myself when I’m deep into blogging tasks.
Maybe that older guy in the pink tracksuit bottoms and slippers is perfectly okay wandering the mall like that. Maybe he’s mentally healthy and just doesn’t care what strangers think. Maybe he’s absorbed in something else entirely—his shopping list, his thoughts, his own interests—and clothes just aren’t important enough to worry about.
What pursuit in your life sometimes overtakes practical concerns?
The Money Reality Behind the Casual
Let me be honest about something: part of my increasingly casual appearance is circumstance, not just choice. I’m paycheck-to-paycheck. When I do have money for clothes, shopping doesn’t appeal to me—I’d rather pay someone to shop for me while I focus on what I actually enjoy.
For years, I wouldn’t have worn jeans to teach at a company. Now I do it all the time, and nobody seems to care. We’re there to chat in English, so maybe clothes don’t matter as much as I used to think they did.
Recently, one of my schools closed after 16 years, so my week looks even more casual now. Many students switched to online lessons, which means I can teach in whatever I’m already wearing. They can’t smell that I’ve been in the same shirt for two days.
(I’m kidding about that last part. Mostly.)
But here’s the thing: if someone gave me a budget for clothes tomorrow, I’d absolutely buy better outfits for teaching. Part of me wants to dress better, honor the younger version of myself who cared more about presentation. Another part of me thinks that younger version would eventually understand—priorities shift, money gets tight, and comfort wins over coolness.
Have your priorities shifted in ways your younger self wouldn’t recognize?
The Foreigner Factor
Living in Japan as a foreigner adds another layer to this. I don’t want to be the unkempt gaijin who confirms whatever stereotypes people might have. There’s extra pressure to “show up properly” as a productive member of this community.
So when I’m debating whether to shower before my 4 AM convenience store run, part of my brain is calculating: Will I see anyone? Will they notice? Does it matter that I’m representing not just myself but foreigners in general?
Usually, at 4 AM, the answer is no, nobody will notice. But by 6 AM? The streets are busier. People are walking to work. And suddenly my casual approach to presentation feels less defensible.
Do you have extra pressure about presentation because of how you might represent a group?
What Other Devoted People Must Feel
I think about golfers who wake up thinking about their swing. Fishermen who can’t wait to get to the water. Gamblers at the track who’ve been studying race statistics since dawn.
Do they feel this same pull? This sense that everything else—showering, eating properly, wearing decent clothes—is just friction between them and what they actually want to be doing?
When does that absorption become concerning? Is there a line between “I’m devoted to this” and “this is consuming me in unhealthy ways”?
I’m not wrestling with this, exactly. I’m just genuinely curious what’s normal. Is it okay to love something so comfortably that you keep at it even when it doesn’t pay money, even when it disrupts your sleep, even when it makes you debate whether showering is really necessary before leaving the house?
How do you know if your devotion is healthy or if it’s crossed into something concerning?
The Signs I’m Watching For
Here’s what makes me think it might still be on the healthy side:
- I do eventually shower, even when I debate it
- I show up for work when scheduled
- The absorption brings genuine joy, not stress
- I can still function in other areas of life
- I’m aware enough to question whether it’s healthy
Here’s what makes me wonder if it’s crossing a line:
- Feeling relieved when farming gets canceled so I can blog instead
- Waking at 3 AM excited about website tasks
- Debating whether to skip basic hygiene for more computer time
- Caring less about presentation in public
- Not being able to get back to sleep because my mind is already working
Maybe it’s both. Maybe devoted absorption is inherently a bit obsessive, and the key is just staying aware enough to pull back when needed.
What signs tell you when a healthy devotion is becoming an unhealthy obsession?
The Honest Invitation
I’m not looking for reassurance or concern. I’m genuinely curious about how others experience devotion that borders on consumption.
Do you have something you love so much that practical concerns sometimes slip? Something that makes you wake up at odd hours, excited to get started? Something that makes you question whether you’re being passionate or obsessive?
How do you tell the difference? When do you pull back, and when do you let yourself be fully absorbed?
For me right now, blogging on OldDogZeroTricks and working on my websites brings a satisfaction that farming and teaching don’t quite match—not because those aren’t good work, but because this is purely mine. Nobody’s paying me, nobody’s expecting anything, and somehow that makes it more compelling.
But I’m also aware that I’m a foreigner in Japan, living paycheck-to-paycheck, getting older, and increasingly casual about presentation. I want to make sure my devotion to this work isn’t becoming a way to avoid other aspects of showing up properly in the world.
Maybe you’ve navigated similar territory with your own fixations. Maybe you’ve figured out how to stay absorbed without losing balance. Maybe you’re still working it out, like I am.
What’s your version of this? What pursuit sometimes consumes you to the point where practical concerns slip? How do you tell if it’s healthy absorption or something that needs reining in? I’m genuinely curious about how others navigate this balance.
Share your thoughts below. I respond to every comment, and your experience often helps others more than mine does.
