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ask me again next year
Compared to this time last year are you happier or sadder? At the end of this month it will have been exactly two and a half years since I left that stable job and set out on an adventure of random and self employment. Two. And a half. Years. It was a story of burnout
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meta (not) monday and other stuff
Starting with an aside, I’ll just note that it drove me nuts when the company that makes and runs that dystopian social network—you know the one—decided to call itself meta. Many wager that they stole the term from Neal Stephenson’s classic novel Snow Crash which itself was a fiction-shaped social commentary on the explosive expansion
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half life
This is not a game. I did the math. I was exactly half the age I am today when I wrote my first blog post. Maybe that’s nothing. Maybe that’s everything. I’m not sure I’m equipped to tell you either way. Take my age today, divide by two and that many years, months, days ago
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three-sixty-five.
I don’t want to say I’ve been saving up for this post, but after two years and two months of keeping a so-called “daily” blog, this — what you’re reading right now — is post three-sixty-five. One post per day for one full year. This should have been the post I wrote on December 31,
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After the Storm
Exactly one week ago, almost to the hour of me writing these words, I finally tested positive for COVID-19. By all accounts and on a severity scale of one to ten (one being no symptoms and ten being the most severe fatal variety) I would rank my infection experience at a 4 or maybe at