I've read Newport's latest book “Deep Work” and am now a big fan. Great insight from a very clear thinker. If you're curious about the concept, but aren't ready to drop yourself into yet-another productivity book, then have a listen here first.
I eagerly clicked to see what the fuss was all about when Jason Kottke launched his latest site design. Bright colours, easy reading typography, simple layout and an excellent extension of the work he's been doing since forever. I think it captures his voice well.
I browsed his new about section, dove into his tremendous archive and followed some of his tags into the dark depths. It was a good waste of time. There are so many loose threads he's pulled together that are best appreciated in their entirety.
I have always admired his work but this redesign jolted me to think about why.
This blog, and those that have fallen before it, were always meant to be my extension into the Internet. Digital space has always preoccupied my faint little mind. No other interest captured my attention like using a computer: not friends, not games, not sports, not anything. The promise of a world that I could shape without my parents' or my school's permission was an exotic dark matter that begged to be explored.
When I got online after the turn of the millennia, I spent most of my time on design forums. I harangued anyone I could into mentoring me, providing their time to teach me what I desperately wanted to know: how to build something in digital space. Most were happy to help and lend me their time and expertise, which is something I didn't appreciate enough at the time.
The internet was a Wild West. Standards were still being developed and the technology involved was easy enough for a child (literally) to pick up and master. And after the small initial technical hump, the only limits were your own creative mind.
I cannot wax poetically enough about the simple, honest, child-like beauty of the early web. I don't want to moan about the web we've lost,[1] but there was an ineffable quality about that time in my life. The friends I've made and lost who were no more than 60px square portraits of cartoon characters could fill an encyclopaedia.
When blogs, née weblogs, started to build steam and become more “professional” that’s what I wanted as well. I left behind the small, personal communities that had helped me start off and moved onto, well, something else. Legitimising the web was a shiny target, something that was on everyone’s mind. So, I followed my lizard eyes and missed my monkey heart.
Looking back over the illustrious examples of long-standing blogs like Kottke.org, Waxy.org, Daring Fireball, etc. I realise that what I really admire is their commitment to their own voice. It's hard to imagine that all of those choices were intentional—perhaps, they are even more clever than I give them credit for—but because they managed to stay their course, the divide between the web I loved and the web I followed seems so wide.
How could I have mistaken one for the other? I failed to hone and shape my own voice in all of the years I've been on the internet... Heartbreak emoji.
So, what to do?
Honestly, pick up from the start.
I am going to invest more of myself here. I'm culling the list of extra projects that I planned to start and instead bring more of who I am (or who I project, which is another matter I'd love to get into later) to this tiny quarter of the Internet.
Who knows, after ten years, perhaps I might have something that inspires the same sort of nostalgia as Kottke.org.
If that wasn't quite enough to break your heart, have a look at Maciej Cegłowski speak about what we've gained since then: http://idlewords.com/talks/ ↩︎
I'm not checking Twitter or pulling my RSS feeds. My status has downgraded from lurking to hibernating.[1] Tweetbot and Reeder (both worth paying for, by the way) now live in the tiny purgatory of my “Consume” folder.
It's just a tiny lifestyle experiment. No biggie.
So far, brain seems to smile more.
Don't worry, I'm still available through whatever medium you enjoy most. I'm just not fire-hosing… or streaming, or whatever. ↩︎
Uniform wares is a great brand showcasing minimal designs in classic forms. This custom piece is darling. Reminiscent of Omega's recent Globemaster. What pleases me most is that information about this timepiece was published at all given its nature as a custom order.
I can't believe what I just saw. But, I am so happy it exists.
(h/t The Verge)
I'm not sure how, but I stumbled upon this piece about coming to terms with online friendships. I've been thinking about a “post-physical” lifestyle quite a bit lately and perhaps this pushed me over the top.
One of the things that made our friendship special was the fact that we could share our thoughts without being self-conscious. Since we weren’t facing each other, there was no sting of shame when the other person frowned or flinched at what you said. Not that we didn’t disagree, we did, but our keyboards kept disagreements conversational. The distance is one of the things that kept us close.
Perhaps not platonic, but the lack of proximity, that what-you've-come-to-expectness, is what makes each of my online friendships feel so true. You realise quickly that what makes for a solid friendship is connection. However that connection is made—regardless of the medium that carries it or the content of our mutual interest—does not matter, what is important is that you're willing to be human and open up. Vulnerability and honesty are the real hallmark of friendship.
I'll end on this final note:
What defined my friendship with Ray, and I dare say, what defines friendship is not the proximity between friends, but the impact of our interactions.
I originally posted this to my friend Andy's now defunct antisocial network: asocial.
I am not the dust that settles,
The inevitable layer of inaction
Covering the memories of our past.
I am the dust that travels.
Forgotten, yes.
All that remains, true.
I follow the winds,
The harbingers of change and movement
Rushing through the joys of the present.
Never stable, true.
Idle, yes.
No, I am abandoned to history.
I am not the dust that settles,
The hapless, witless passenger of time
Cowering from an uncertain future.
I should be doing something. Instead, I'm day dreaming. Pulled sharply back into my teen (tween?) years by an old Wolf Parade album.
I've included an Apple Music link for those so inclined: here.
Anyone else riding the nostalgia train lately?
One month ago, today, I married my partner of ten years. (It was an incredible experience which I'm still trying to process fully.) We took the opportunity to write our own vows and I've shared mine below. I doubt many will find these words useful and I imagine the majority of its readers will fail to see their sentiment so far away from their original context. That said, I felt it was important to put these words out there; powerful emotions are like birds, tough to keep to yourself.
I have thought hard about my favourite memory we've shared together and there have been so many in the passing tides of the last decade that it did not seem possible to pick just one. Choosing one memory to summarise the feeling in my heart, is an impossible task. What I found instead of that one perfect memory, my metaphorical white whale, were tiny whispers and glimmering impressions that have been unconsciously pressed upon my soul.
My love for you does not find root in the grand events, or among the significant moments we've shared together. With time and care, each glimpse has grown together to form something magical: a flower whose petals on their own seem insignificant, yet taken together their beauty knows no bounds. These moments are found in those tiny spaces between the seconds of our lives and it is these slivers of memories fill my heart to overflowing.
I close my eyes and the weight of those moments wash over me:
These are the moments which speak volumes, yet there is little poetry capable of capturing my enduring awe when these glimpses of you bubble up from my memory.
My promise to you is that I will pledge everything that I am to support you becoming the best version of yourself and achieving your worthiest ambitions, no matter which ends of the Earth we find ourselves. You are the force that is changing the world for the better. I know it is a hard and thankless road you bravely walk, but you do not do so in isolation. I pledge that you will never be alone on your journey because, though I am only one man, I will always, always be there as you lead the way. No matter how dark the world may seem, remember I am here to provide the bedrock of family to call your own, devotion to you as you are and undying love from the bottom of my heart.
This is all I have to give, but rest assured that I will spend the rest of my life ensuring that this promise is anything and everything you could need.
It's a short piece but lovingly so.
I can't imagine how I'd deal with the death of my wife. I suppose that capturing all of her words and feeding them through a bot would seem less off the wall when lensed through my grief. Perhaps, it might underscore the loss when the veneer begins to peel and the truth that those words were artefacts from conversations long past hits home, but could you blame someone for wanting one last chance to speak to the dead?
I know I can't.
A tool for creating and managing your own choose-your-own-adventure games. Excuse me, I need to call my assistant.
“Yes, clear the entire schedule… until, February. That should do.”
(H/T Paul Ford)
I've been on a philosophical tear lately. This time it's been friendship in digital space. I wonder if older generations, including my own, are only prone to the vexing issue of “what are friends if you've never met them?” because there's a normative divide between online and offline.[1]
I grew up in a rural setting but had internet access by ’98–’99. Even though I was a child during this time, my teenage experience doesn't map well to this description.
For teens, texts and snaps and video calls are real life, the equivalent of walking around in the mall for hours in the olden times, trying to catch the eye of a hottie in the food court. As much as technology has changed the way we talk, think, and do things, some key teen problems are as they’ve always been
I do appreciate this insight into why (some? most?) teenagers enjoy Snapchat, whereas most of the “#olds” find it impenetrable:
But the feature that sets Snapchat apart is that 24 hours after you post it to your story, it disappears. This significantly lessens the pressure for everyone. For kids who are taught about digital footprints from grade school on and are regaled with cautionary tales of exemplary students who lost scholarships or college entrance because of party pictures posted to Facebook, Snapchat is easy fun. Silly, even.
They are still children after all. Low pressure, playful environments are still necessary for the exploration of identity. No one should be expected to show up to a social network with a fully realised identity—even if the expectation is invisible and implicit normative pressure—and share perfectly manicured images/posts. I can't imagine what that would have done to my growth if Instagram and Facebook were the only options.
One could ask whether this is only an issue for generations like mine, early to the Internet, yet not fully immersed. Presumably, my parents don't consider people they've never met in person as friends at all, with the exception of pen pals and letter writing clubs. ↩︎