In which I feel out the perspectives of how I get things done without seemingly getting things done. Continue reading →

In which I spend a lot of words and time talking about spending time over a lot of words in order to make sense of the stories I want to tell. Continue reading →

In which I attempt to make a point, or at least find the box where I kept them, as my brain decides to try to examine all boxes at once, zooming out too much and making everything blurry. Continue reading →

In which I try to ignore the throbbing leg and think instead about the delightful melancholy of music and art that was a fleeting joy. Continue reading →

In which I bounce back and forth between trying to think about things, and trying to experience them. Continue reading →

In which I celebrate finally moving furniture around, and finding a new, stable, local maxima of efficiency. Continue reading →

In which I have a box full of parts of different ideas, and I'm starting to think they go together in ways I didn't expect. Continue reading →

In which I try to find out what images are conjured by my brain, when stimulus is underwhelming. Continue reading →

In which I consider what I've done, what I'm likely to do, and how I have difficulty reconsidering either (but probably need to, regularly). Continue reading →

In which I set my sights on the sky, and my thoughts on the many things we program on earth. Continue reading →