O.T.D.
For me, for my systems, it stands for “Of the Day.”
For the past two years (at least), I’ve been tracking different “of the day”s. It started with time—my hours broken down into 30-minute chunks. Focus time. Social time. Meetings. Projects. Meals. Sleep. etc...
This whole thing was 100% inspired by Rob Dyrdek’s personal system:
(My DIY version even has a dashboard too.)
But there’s a key difference between my method and his. His system is automated. Mine isn’t.
On purpose.
Mindfulness
Every 30-minute block I’ve entered for the past 2+ years has been logged by hand. The reason? I want to engage in the process. To stop and actually think about where my time is going.
The point isn’t the data. The point is the reflection. To take the time to think about my life.
Ryder Carroll (inventor of the Bullet Journal) said it best:
“A mindfulness practice disguised as a productivity system.”
Exactly.
Every time I open my AppSheet app—which is, quite literally, just powered by a spreadsheet—I’m logging a micro-rep. Asking myself:
“What did I do? Why did I do it? Too much? Too little? Does this feel important?”
And the compounding effect is huge. Over time, those micro-reflections sharpen my instincts. They make me better at making calls in the moment—for myself and for others—when it really matters.
Meaning
I don’t just track time. Other “of the day”s sneak in too.
Some are practical: blog posts and work logs.
Others are lighter. Temporary themes that come and go. Most recently, it’s been quotes and songs. Things that resonated with me in some way. Things I stumble across. Or songs that—without my permission—start looping in the back of my head.
The latest entries?
Quote of the Day:
“The mother, the daughter, and the Holy Roller.”
This was a random YouTube comment on a music video from Amy Lee (Evanescence), Courtney LaPlante (Spiritbox), and Poppy. A clever play on Spiritbox’s song Holy Roller. The kind of insider twist that makes you shake your head and smile.
Song of the Day:
Demi Lovato & Joe Jonas: This Is Me
My partner has been listening to Jonas Brothers on repeat lately. Somehow this one snuck into my subconscious.
Manualness
When I first started this practice, the developer in me—the perfectionist, the purist—was protesting on all fronts.
How can I automate this? Where’s the source of truth? What about data integrity? All those loud, righteous questions—punctuated by the imaginary shake of a fist at the sky.
But thankfully, I realized early on: the point wasn’t efficiency. The point was presence. A micro rep of mindfulness that forced me to stare down my own insecurities—the ones that usually show up as shouting matches in my head and hesitation on the page.
Manual makes it mindful. And I was deeply humbled by it.
At one point, I stumbled onto a YouTube video of someone showcasing their analog trackers—hand-drawn spreads filled with monochromatic grids, dots, and lines.
I couldn’t judge or fault this person—for their methods, for what they had, for what they made. Instead, it pushed me to not just question but to truly challenge my own reasoning for why certain data-based things “had” to live in some digital, cloud-powered database. The manualness didn’t make it wrong. The intention behind it made it right.
What matters isn’t the polish. It’s the pause.
On this day
So here I am. Still doing it.
One by one. A song here. A quote there. A quick line about burning my tongue on coffee because I was rushing.
Not relying on some computer in the clouds to tell me what matters. But pausing, claiming that meaning for myself. Noticing that the things worth keeping aren’t always milestones—they’re the dumb, tiny, ridiculous, embarrassing moments that vanish unless you pin them down.
Little notes. Little logs. Tiny breadcrumbs.
On this day.