I had a decision to make about an online course: keep paying for it, or put that money toward the projects I wanted to build. I canceled it.
But I don’t want to turn that into a story about a bad course. A course can be excellent. The question is whether it belongs in your life right now.
Thinking about that decision now, that’s the part I care about: timing. Do you have the momentum to use what you’re buying? Can you make room for it and really commit? Or are you paying because you intend to get around to it?
A discount doesn’t answer any of that.
When I talk about expected value here, I mean what I can realistically get out of something, given the time, attention and effort I can bring to it. The quality of the thing matters. So does my ability to use it.
Sometimes that means canceling. Sometimes it means recognizing that this is exactly the time to go all in.
Imagine you’re already building something and keep running into a problem you don’t know how to solve. You find a course that addresses it, and you’ve made time to work through it. Now a lesson has somewhere to go. You can try it on the project, see what happens, and come back with a better question.
That’s the kind of momentum I’m talking about. What you learn feeds the work you’re already doing, and the work gives you a reason to learn the next thing. The value has a chance to build on itself because you’re involved. You aren’t just collecting access.
Paying the full price for something you can put to work now may make more sense than getting a discount on something you will leave alone.
Then there is the other situation: you like the idea, the price looks good, but you have no room for it. You keep paying and thinking you’ll get there eventually. Meanwhile, it occupies a little space in your head. It becomes another thing you feel you should be using, even though you haven’t made room for it.
Consider a hypothetical gym membership. You sign up at a great rate, but haven’t worked out when you can get there. The payment continues while the plan stays vague. Now imagine the membership fits a routine you’re ready to follow, at a place you can actually reach. You haven’t bought a different gym. You’ve given yourself a better chance to use the one you’re paying for.
This applies even when there isn’t a bill. Suppose you’re invited to join a group doing work you care about. If you have the time and something to contribute, that commitment could be a good use of your energy. If your calendar is already full, liking the idea won’t make you available. You may end up giving the group less than it needs and yourself one more obligation.
And enjoyment counts as a use. So does rest. A subscription you use to watch films you love is doing something for you. Everything doesn’t have to become a project or make you money.
Before buying, renewing or taking on another commitment, try finishing this sentence honestly:
I’m going to use this for ______, starting ______, and I’m making room by ______.
You don’t need a perfect plan. But if every blank comes back to someday, give that answer some weight. Where you can pause or cancel, consider doing it without making the thing itself the villain.
And if you have a real answer, if you’re already moving and this helps you keep going, recognize that too. Make the room. Use what you’re paying for. Give the commitment a chance to become worthwhile.
I want to be willing to step back when the fit isn’t there, and just as willing to commit when it is. The price is only one part of that decision. The rest depends on what I can bring to it now.
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