unpublished alpha

the awakening

For the sake of mental clarity, I’m staging a rebellion—unsubscribing from newsletters, one by one.

It’s a kind of digital exodus. My inbox had become an overgrown thicket of unreads—each one a tiny monument to the things I should be paying attention to but, in fact, do not. I’m done with the “shoulds.” Email is for replies and reminders, not a perpetual to-do list. My Reader app is for thoughtful reading (I can send newsletters there, too). But by waiting a few hours—or even days—before diving into my reading list, I’m carving out a buffer against that knee-jerk click to consume. Since most of my workday is spent in the digital realm, keeping things uncluttered helps me stay focused when it matters.

This little awakening came while I was swerving around the “300+ unread” beast in my inbox. Sure, they’re in a separate “News” tab, but it still feels off watching that number balloon. Meanwhile, I’m happily at zero in my “important” inbox thanks to Superhuman, which makes clearing clutter painless.

X is off my radar too, leaving me a bit unmoored, like I’ve slipped away from some ephemeral current of public chatter. But here’s the thing—that’s okay. A little tunnel vision might be exactly what I need.

The default doesn’t have to be noise. Why keep hoarding emails I ignore, Substacks I never read, and headlines I barely skim? I’m done. Not just unsubscribing, but reevaluating—what do I actually want to engage with?

the cleansing

If something’s worth my time, it goes in my RSS reader—minimal, intentional, trackable. I log highlights, note how long it takes, and see what’s enriching versus what’s mindless scroll fodder. This also keeps my phone from becoming another social media trap, since I can revisit articles later. I’ve added a two-month rule: if I haven’t watched, read, or consumed something in that window, it’s gone. What started with email now applies to my overstuffed “watch later” YouTube playlist, too.

This decluttering ritual hasn’t been as simple as a command+U unsubscribe keyboard shortcut. Something I’m about to delete tempts me to check a clothing sale or skim a quick newsletter—just two minutes, right? But that’s how I slip into a spiral of tiny, urgent-seeming decisions that aren’t actually urgent at all. This time, though, I’m fixated on clarity: a clean inbox, a sharper focus, a leaner portfolio. The “if it takes five minutes, do it now” mantra works for work, but it doesn’t apply to an optional cornucopia of unsubscribable emails. Left unchecked, a tangle of newsletters and endless recaps can make the digital world distinctly unhelpful. As Peter Drucker ventured, “there is nothing so useless as doing efficiently that which should not be done at all.”

Minimalism isn’t just a style choice; it’s a mental reprieve. Subtracting distractions isn’t rejection—it’s making room for what truly matters—getting to 100 published articles on Unpublished Alpha (lol).

A weekend spent immersed in meaningful reads, free from pings and pop-ups, feels like a small act of defiance. Email doesn’t have to be a daily deluge, newsletters shouldn’t induce guilt, and the mental architecture of our lives deserves stronger scaffolding. That framework won’t construct itself. So here I am, deleting, unsubscribing, minimizing—and maybe, just maybe, finally reading what matters (to me).

If something inspires, educates, or aligns with my goals, it stays. Everything else gets unsubscribed. Newsletters should add value, not become obligations. Think of Paul Tudor Jones, who mentally “rebuys” his portfolio each day—yet I wasn’t doing that with my digital intake. Even monthly or weekly, I wasn’t choosing what belonged in my inbox. And my inbox represents my time—tasks, communication, projects. I’d rather keep it that way.

By decluttering, I’m sharpening my focus and freeing up mental bandwidth. I’m fine with fewer notifications, because I’ve consciously removed the noise.

Sure, there’s a little FOMO on information I’m not absorbing or sales I’m unaware of. But after going a year without buying clothes, I’ve learned there’s always a cheaper deal on Amazon, or I can catch up on older Substack issues if I really wanted. That kills the urgency. And ironically, I stumbled upon Newsminimalist.com in a newsletter, which confirmed that less input truly leads to more clarity.

I’m curious what I’ll end up subscribing to this year, but as I write this, I’ve realized I’m not going to subscribe to anything new in 2025. I’m interested to see how that feels—there might be trade-offs, but I’d rather stay mindful about what I truly want to read, buy and/or listen to.

Hopefully in a few months I can confidently say that by spending less time wading through digital clutter, I’m more intentional in everything else I do. Or at the very least have a little more time on my hands. By curating what enters my inbox (and mind), I’m rediscovering that simplicity can be a powerful catalyst for clarity, creativity, and true connection.