Older, and somewhat wiser
I turned 40 a week or two ago. I’m not quite used to the idea. In my head, I’m still in my mid-twenties: young, impatient, prone to irrational enthusiasms. Whereas actually I’m middle-aged, impatient, and prone to irrational enthusiasms.
On balance, it’s working out pretty well. I think I’m learning to be a better person. Kinder, more thoughtful, more dependable. I’m fitter than I’ve ever been. I’m still learning, understanding things a little more every year. I owe much of this to K, my partner of ten years: she’s helped me be a better man.
It’s a shame, though, that it all seems to be coming together as I pass the halfway mark. The equinox has passed, and the shadows grow longer each day.
Bookmarklet: Go to root URL of site
So you've arrived at a site from elsewhere. You're deep in foo.com and you want to get to the home page?Try this: goto_root_URL. Drag it to your bookmarks bar for E-Z access.
Code, such as it is:
javascript:void(location.href=(location.href.split("/").slice(0,3).join("/")))
Snowmelt pools
Overnight hike near Mt Stillwell, Snowy Mountains. A great time of year to go, with snowdrifts still on the ground and no nasty insects.
The tendrils, they are coming closer
Work in progress: Eigenstate for an upcoming dorkbot exhibition.
Sunrise on the mountain
We start long before dawn, in deep frost and darkness, driving up the winding track towards the mountain. At the snowline we stop and put on climbing gear, harnesses, packs, axes, and we trudge up the hill as the eastern sky begins to lighten. The air is still bitterly cold but we are warmed by the climb, our exhalations clouding as we breathe heavily in the thinning air.
We crest the last ridge before the icefall we are to climb and in front of us lies a frozen lake, smooth, silent, impossibly flat in a land otherwise without horizontality. The ice is thick and we start to walk across, westwards, booted feet crunching as we stride. And just as we reach the middle of the lake, the sun rises behind us, and the surface all around lights up with a million tiny diamonds, a million ice crystals glistening, reflecting the rising sun. I have never seen anything so beautiful.
I took it: your turn
Take the A List Apart survey 2008.
Thinking about risk
Clearly there can be too much risk: some things with potentially big upsides can be too risky to take on. But can can there be too little risk?
If you totally eliminate risk you’ll never lose big, but you’ll never win big either. It’s an opportunity cost. While you were staying safe, you could have been taking risk and succeeding. Instead, you’ll have to satisfy youself with the results of safe – which are never as good as the results of risk. The downside? You have to be willing to fail.
This applies pretty much everywhere. If you try to eliminate the risk of failure, you’ll never climb that mountain, ditch that job, ask that girl out, or build the Next Big Thing.
I’m not saying you should never cover your arse: just that you need to hang it out a little bit now and then. And be willing to occasionally get spanked.
Oh, the years, they go so fast
Me, May 1971.
Autumn, night
There is no more lovely music than the soft fall of rain.
Coming full circle
Bikes I have ridden: year acquired/number of gears:
1975: 1
1976: 3
1983: 18
1992: 21
2001: 27
2008: 1
So a couple of days ago I succumbed to a long-felt need and bought a singlespeed bike, a Kona Paddy Wagon. Just one gear. Freewheel optional. Fantastic.
When the hill gets steeper, pedal harder.