Monday at Five AM

There's a strange new habit — measuring time not by seasons or even releases, but by weekends. On Friday evening, the internet starts buzzing as if it's not the end of the week, but the start of another race: who can build a "super new startup" fastest, who can call it "vibe coding" more boldly, who can post a prettier thread about how they "built in two days what used to take teams." And there are so many of these startups that they become background noise — a multitude of tabs, demo pages, and "coming soon" that nobody really needs.

This weekend, I unexpectedly caught myself thinking: what if I just... don't participate. Simply exhale. Don't tweak one more feature. Don't "check just in case" a few tasks. Don't build a new project just because someone somewhere said "you have to, or you'll fall behind." I did the most unfashionable thing possible: I decided to rest.

And funny enough, that turned out to be the most practical decision of the week.

Because on Monday, February 2nd, I woke up at 5 AM — and almost without fanfare, without any "revelation" — I just started writing down ideas. One after another. Concepts that hadn't come to me in seven days because I'd been constantly busy with work: tasks, reviews, messages, little "just five more minutes." I didn't try to analyze where they came from. I simply saw the difference: when there's space inside, thoughts come on their own. When there's no space — you can watch other people's successes all you want, but you can't hear your own solutions.

The Clawdbot/Moltbot/OpenClaw Saga

And then, on Sunday, I opened my laptop and stumbled upon news about yet another "bot-for-everything": Clawdbot, which managed to become Moltbot, and somewhere was already being called OpenClaw. And there it was — the whole set of our times: fast, flashy, a bit dirty.

First, hype around an agent that lives locally on your machine and gets almost "deep access" to your system. Then — confusion with naming and branding, because the industry is maturing and starting to protect trademarks. And right after — a classic: riding the wave of attention, people emerge wanting to monetize someone else's popularity, with claims of an "official token." One such fake meme coin, according to reports, managed to pump to roughly $16M market cap before everything collapsed — the usual scheme of "while people haven't figured it out yet."

And separately, what got to me was how quickly all this spilled over into a practical threat: fake "extensions" and builds appeared — for example, the story of a malicious VS Code extension that masqueraded as an assistant and delivered a trojan.

How Easily We Give Access

I read this and caught myself having a simple reaction: I was horrified — not in the "everything is lost" sense, but in the "how easily we now give access" sense. Yesterday you're discussing the convenience of automation, and today someone very convincingly asks for "permissions" and gets way too much. And yes, I also get that feeling: "oh, I need to make my own bot, add this and that." Hype is infectious — it knows how to speak in the voice of your own motivation.

But then another part of my brain kicks in — the one that loves calm, grounded boundaries.

My Access Rules

I'm not ready to give full computer access to anyone yet. Not even to tools I like. Even my beloved Claude Code — only within specific folders. I still haven't opened the Downloads folder and, honestly, after stories like these, I'm not eager to. At most — let it carefully create notes in Obsidian and work where boundaries are clear. Let automation live in a "sandbox," not in an apartment with keys under the doormat.

Rest as Part of Security

And against this backdrop, rest suddenly stops being "laziness." It becomes part of security. Part of clarity. Part of quality. Because when you're not trying to birth a new startup every week "like everyone else," you suddenly start hearing your real ideas — and, more importantly, your real "no's."