On how friction is fun

a gentle case for friction-maxxing... sometimes

Hello fellow learn-it-all 👋

Greetings from Detroit, Michigan.

I’m about to go cross-country skiing tomorrow in negative weather temperatures. Let’s see how this goes. It’s about time to try out a new sport and have fun freezing!!

Anywho, I’m about to drop off some rolls of film I’ve shot over the past six months to be developed. Some photos will probably be dark. Others will feel contextless, like postcards from a former version of me. And maybe, if I’m lucky, one will be pure gold. A keeper. A photo that makes the whole thing worth it. The inconvenience is part of the magic. The waiting. The not-knowing. The effort. It makes the outcome feel earned. The inconvenience gets overlooked, and that’s the topic on the docket today.

One last thing before we dive in. If you are in NYC and want to meet up, I’ll be around next week and love meeting other learn-it-alls IRL. Send me an email :)

Now, let’s dive into letter 298 from a learn-it-all. Enjoy!

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❓Question to think about

What is your relationship to friction?

🖊️Writing

On how friction is fun

On Tuesday morning, I went to a yoga class focused on back strength and posture. I loved it. I realized I want a yoga strap since it opened up poses I don’t usually try. When I got home, I told my mom over lunch. We opened Amazon Prime. Six dollars. Delivered to our door in under 24 hours.

Pure magic.

Or… laziness?

What the heck? Am I really complaining about laziness?

Kind of ¯\(ツ)/¯

And apparently, I’m not alone…

A recent piece in The Cut called “In 2026, We Are Friction-Maxxing”, Kathryn Jezer-Morton pushes back against the idea that life itself is an inconvenience and why we need friction-maxxing, a phrase she coined meaning:

“Friction-maxxing is … the process of building up tolerance for ‘inconvenience’ (which is usually not inconvenience at all but just the vagaries of being a person living with other people in spaces that are impossible to completely control) – and then reaching even toward enjoyment. And then, it’s modelling this tolerance, followed by enjoyment and humour, for our kids.”

And why do children need this you might ask? Because:

“Children are the easiest targets for tech companies because they don’t know the difference between suffering and friction – one difference between children and adults is that adults do. Or at least, we’re supposed to.”

And so to remind myself that having a bit of inconvenience in my life, I decided to say yes to an invitation for an offline day. Two Saturdays ago, I tried something small but intentional: I went offline for the day.

Not in a dramatic, throw-my-phone-in-a-lake way. More like a gentle experiment or walk on the wild side, like my brother’s cat Bubba, who likes to venture outside into the snow for yuks. My phone stayed turned off. Silent. Out of reach. Quiet to see what sparks.

I didn’t do it alone like first did in 2021 for a think weekend. Instead I joined a global 24-hour offline detox hosted by The Offline Club. It felt neat to know that 1,774 other humans were also opting into friction that day, which made it feel less like deprivation and more like a shared ritual.

I started my morning the way I usually do. A full-body stretch. A long slug of water from a glass I refilled the night before. I opened my journal and checked in. It was 9:37 a.m. I wrote in purple pen about a faint headache and a moment of gratitude: the night before, I’d laughed so hard I cried, remembering childhood Disney trips my dad famously hated with endless queues. Eight-dollar ice cream cones. And giant squirrels named Chip and Dale. A lot of friction. A lot of joy.

For breakfast, I ate a banana. Begrudgingly ate a piece of bacon (for my dad, who loves my being a flexitarian). Showered. Left the house with wet hair that turned into an icicle.

In my grandpa’s couple-decades-old yellow Jeep, I turned my phone on just long enough to get directions, then put it back on airplane mode. The drive became a quiet meditation. No podcast. No music. Just thoughts bouncing around, some weird, some useful ones, like how I can shift the gears a bit quicker if I release the clutch sooner. I noticed how uncomfortable silence can feel at first, and how quickly I come to enjoy it once I stop resisting it.

The rest of the day unfolded slowly and imperfectly.

Once at my cousin’s place, I used her local navigation expertise instead of Google Maps. We took a little detour to see the newly renovated Detroit train station. We walked to this Corktown cafe instead of driving. It made for the perfect opportunity for me to whip out my film camera and shoot some shots.

Some small-town serendipity struck the moment we ran into a couple of high school friends. After some cozy vibes over a unique muffin and chats about intentions for the year, we parted ways.

On the way back east on the highway, I played one of my brother’s old CDs in the car. It was from the first DTE concert by Wiz Khalifa called “Under The Influence” Music Tour I went to. This CD skipped and repeated, and somehow I didn’t mind. I drove already past Eight Mile to Nine Mile to see if the piano studio and favorite late-night joint were still there. To no surprise, the piano place is a tanning salon, and the Wafflehouse-esque place “Travis” is still there. Alongside many chiropractic offices, gift stores, and dance studios.

Then I went off to find where my Sri Lankan friend Nazreen relocated her tea store. I drove down Mack Avenue five times for about 15 minutes, squinting at signs to see where her new storefront was. We enjoyed some tea together and exchanged travel storeis for a few hours. I bought some chocolate chai, a bladder full of tea, and left with a shriveled-up, hungry stomach.

To my surprise as I left I saw a the new Chick Fil-A open with a moderate queue of cars. I waited in a drive-thru line longer than I would have liked (40 minutes) and used the time to journal instead of scrolling. When I got home I cut and dressed some brussel sprouts and helped my mom heat some croissants and salmon for dinner. We hosted some of their new friends and conversed over different massage therapy techniques and high school changes over the decades.

During my offline day, there were moments of friction everywhere. Small delays. Mild inconveniences. Little lost moments where, normally, I’d reach for a screen to smooth things over.

And here’s the thing that surprised me: I didn’t feel deprived. I felt more present and calm.

By the end of the day, I noticed a particular kind of satisfaction settling in. Not the overstimulated, overfull feeling I sometimes get after a day of content consumption. Not the satiated kind, where I’m stuffed, numb, done. More like sated. Quietly satisfied. Content. Full enough by the life I lived that day.

It made me wonder if we really need to get rid of all that friction in the first place.

When everything is frictionless, it’s tempting to keep consuming more content, more convenience, more stimulation and chasing a sense of fullness that never quite arrives. But when things are allowed to take time, when someone engages their own brains or body as the primary technology, something shifts.

Effort becomes meaningful. Silence becomes spacious. The day feels textured instead of blurred. Less rushed.

Nothing about my offline day was extraordinary. I didn’t summit a mountain or write my magnum opus. I just lived my life with a bit more resistance. With a few more journal pages rather than Apple Notes. I noticed billboard signs instead of skipping songs on my Spotify. And somehow, that resistance made everything feel more vivid.

Which brings me back to friction-maxxing.

Do we really want AI to think for us? Do we really want Amazon to replace every small business just to save five dollars and a trip outside? Is Bumble BFF really how the next generation will make friends, rather than joining a club, or calling a number scribbled on a café bulletin board?

Convenience isn’t evil. But it’s not always queen.

Sometimes the most radical thing one can do is go pick up your takeout yourself. Not because it’s hard, but because what’s actually hard is choosing to leave the house when you could stay inside scrolling a little longer. What’s hard is trading frictionless comfort for a human interaction, cold air on your face, or a small moment of aliveness.

Friction can be fun (sometimes). It’s a mindset shift.

Maybe it’s not about rejecting modern tools or romanticizing hardship. Maybe it’s about noticing where convenience has quietly replaced experience, and instead choosing, occasionally, to do the slower thing. The slightly harder thing. The thing that asks you to actively participate rather than passively receive.

That offline day, friction didn’t make my life smaller. It made it feel richer. More connected to humanity than modern life. More intentional.

So this is my invitation to you. Not to go pretend you’re living in the Middle Ages and reject all technology, but to add a little bit more friction.

Reading doesn’t have to be boring.
Talking doesn’t have to be awkward.
Shoveling the driveway doesn’t have to be dreaded.
Movement doesn’t have to be tiring.
Leaving the house doesn’t have to be daunting.
Thinking doesn’t have to be hard.

Try friction-maxxing, gently, and see how it feels. Notice how slowing down makes your effort feel more meaningful rather than inconvenient.

Because sometimes, just sometimes, friction is fun.

🎧Listening

When I’m Gone by Wiz Khalifa from his 2011 album “Rolling Papers” via an old CD

I'm gonna spend it all (all)
Why wait for another day? (day)
I'ma take all this money I own (own)
'N' blow it all away (away)
'Cause I can't take it when I'm gone, gone, gone, gone, gone
No, I can't take it when I'm gone, gone, gone, gone, gone, gone

This song was made in response to talk to his haters at the time about partying and he wanted to affirming his focus that he liked spending his money he earned, enjoying life, and living in the moment and isn’t bashful about that.

🔍Word to define

Sated vs. Satiated

Pulled from a dinner conversation with my dad. I said I was satiated by my scallops alfredo sauce pea dinner, but he said he was sated. Technically, we’re both correct.

Both “sated” and “satiated” mean fully satisfied.

But satiated often implies a deeper, complete fulfillment (even to excess to the brim), especially regarding hunger or strong desires. While sated suggests a more general, content satisfaction, sometimes in broader, non-food contexts like fulfilling a goal.

🌟Quote to inspire

“A dead thing can go with the stream, but only a living thing can go against it.”

—G. K. Chesterton, a writer reminding us to not be carried along by life, but to live with energy, will, and conviction, Source: The Everlasting Man, found via James Clear newlsetter

📸Photos of the Week

🙏Shoutouts

• to smudgey, the cute kitty I turned into a taco on my lap with a blankey and watched one of my dad’s favorite movies called “Wind”. I hope you’re all staying cozy out there <3

• To the writer Anu. I resonated deeply on her piece to “Make Something Heavy.” Go devote yourself to the bigger project instead of chipping away at only small things and see how you yourself can transform (like creating a book instead of only a blog).

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I am grateful you chose to fill part of your day here.

If something in this letter resonated, press the ❤️ , leave a comment, reply to this email, or reach me at vermetJL@gmail.com. I love hearing from you.

Keep on learning 😁

Tot snel 🌺 🌺

Toodles :)

Jen

P.S. #1 - I coach writers. I guide them to build a writing routine and have fun hitting “publish.” Let’s chat.

P.S. #2 - I wrote a book. Letters to My Life is my favorite way to share my writing with you (and it keeps your screen-time stats down). Grab your copy here.

P.S. #3 - Here’s what you missed. Last week I expanded on a plane thought I had on my way to Palm Springs, CA about what it even means to be interesting and how life is downstream of those things we put our attention on.