I recently came across a post criticizing the flood of design tutorials that cover extremely basic tools. How to use the shape tool. How to save a color. Foundational things in graphic design industry software, like Adobe or Affinity.

The criticism from the post was blunt. “Who is this actually helping?”
It certainly couldn’t be people already in the industry. These are usually the first things we learn. If not through shortcuts, then by clicking around long enough to stumble upon what we need. But buried in the comments was a response that reframed the whole thing. “Maybe you aren't the target audience. Maybe you aren’t the person they had in mind when creating this content.” That stuck with me more than I thought it would.

The Wrong Room

We forget this often. Not everything we consume on social media is meant for us. When a roofer explains their job on video, they generally aren’t doing so to inform other experienced roofers. They’re talking to people who don’t know enough yet to even ask the right questions.

The same applies here. Those tutorials aren’t for seasoned designers. They’re for beginners. Or for people adjacent to the work, trying to get their footing. There’s a good chance that they’re there to inform other industries how complex the systems we work with are.

Once you see that, the frustration shifts. The problem isn’t always the content. Sometimes it’s that we’re in the wrong room, expecting the wrong conversation.

We Choose to Consume

That idea connects directly to something I’ve been thinking about lately. Intentionality.
What we seek. What we consume. What we give our attention to.

I lose more time than I’d like to admit by being unintentional. I’ll get home, sit down, and scroll. Not because it’s helpful, but because it’s easy. Just reading an article with the intention to learn would be significantly better.

What’s strange is how often the things we consume don’t match the things we say we want. We want clarity, growth, creativity. But we feed ourselves noise and distraction.

There’s plenty out there that drains us. But there’s also inspiration, education, and momentum, if we’re intentional about what we let in.

Small Moments Matter

This year, I’m trying to be more intentional with the small moments. Not in a hyper-productive way. Not trying to expend all my energy in one place. Just more honest.

• Does this make me feel clearer?

• Does this help me feel inspired?

• Does this move me, even slightly, toward who I want to be?

Those choices compound. They shape our habits, our mindset, and eventually our identity.

A lot of us default to letting life carry us where it will. For some people, that works. But many of us have commitments. People who rely on us. Goals we’ve named out loud.

For us, intentionality isn’t optional. It’s necessary.

Frustration Is a Signal

Sometimes life feels repetitive. Other times it feels frustrating, like we’re being spoken to below our level. But often that tension isn’t because we’re being talked down to. It’s because we’re listening to something not meant for us.

There’s a quote that says, “If you’re the smartest person in the room, you’re in the wrong room.”

If everything feels stagnant.
If you’re not progressing.
If the motivation you’re consuming no longer motivates you.

You might not need more effort. You might need a different room.

Choosing Better Rooms

Maybe the issue isn’t discipline. Maybe it’s direction.
The wrong content.
The wrong voices.
The wrong definition of progress.

Finding the right room takes reflection. But once you do, momentum follows. Gradually. Quietly. In ways you can feel before you can fully explain.

I’m not an expert in this. If anything, I’m a journeyman, learning as I go. This article is me noticing the moments I’ve been missing. The ease I default to instead of alignment.

Learning in Real Time

So here’s the challenge I’m giving myself. Maybe you should consider it too.

Audit the rooms you’re in.
What you consume.
Who you listen to.
What quietly shapes your days.

If something feels repetitive or frustrating, don’t assume you’re failing. Ask a better question. “Am I even in the right room?”

Progress doesn’t usually come from doing more. It comes from choosing better. Intentionally. Consistently. In smaller moments than we expect.

That’s where momentum actually starts.