Reading a book about habits (it's that time of year, folks) published in 2021, so maybe I can forgive the author for not knowing that the Stanford marshmallow test has been thoroughly debunked. But it also feels like if they're starting from a flawed premise, is it worth finishing the book?

I don't remember if it was it was Digital Minimalism or Deep Work, but one of the Cal Newport books inspired me to create two rules for myself when reading self-help.

1. As soon as they cite Thomases Jefferson or Edison, I'm done. I close the book right there because I'm just so tired of the lionization of those dudes.
2. If the author cannot cite a single woman, I'm done. I've heard enough about Albert Einstein and Marcus Aurelius and Thomas Merton and Leonardo da Vinci. Find a new idol, please.

And yet, I pick up self-help, again and again. This summer, I grabbed Better Than Before by Gretchen Rubin for my train trip to Portland. Which led me to her Four Tendencies, and the other day, I borrowed it again so I could reread the section about Rebels. Rebels are people who resist all expectations, internal and external. Rubin says the Rebel's motto is "You can't make me, and neither can I."

I'm feeling that so hard right now. I am stuck, and I don't know what to do. No schedule, no list, no timer, no reward has worked for me. But maybe I just haven't read the right book yet. Maybe I haven't bought the right planner. Maybe this will be my year, and this time everything will be OK.