People were blogging. I looked at the blogs, I read the blogs, and I was compelled to update my own baby. My own strange, shapeshifting, semi-somnolent babby.

I’m not quite sure what this hunk of wordiness is. Sometimes it seems to think it’s a productivity blog, on other days a technology blog, and every now and then it wants, I think, to be some kind of (post)modernist artwork.

I’ve given up trying to name it or tame it into any particular shape; it is what it is and that’s just fine. It’s a mindset that I would like to adopt in my day-to-day life– too often I find myself trying to emulate someone I admire, or pretending to be somebody I’m not. The very thing we’re not supposed to do according, presumably, to some universal law of How Humans Should Behave.

The State Of The Machine

Anyway, since we’re here, allow me to deliver to you a postcard.

Earlier this year I caved into the pressure of the econosphere and secured myself a job working for that great nemesis of modern middle class romantics: The Man. Fear not though, for I am now raging against the system from within by selecting all of the slightly negative responses to internal staff satisfaction surveys.

Let me tell you, a full time job is like an horological sponge that not only sucks up the 40 hours per week that you press it down upon, but it also absorbs a certain amount of the time that happens to be too near its porous edges.

And it is this that causes the slight ironic sting when I notice myself thinking, now that Maslow’s pyramid is being stacked up in the correct order, “Boy, I really fancy doing a load of things“.

Ten Weird Tips For Wizards

So to maximise my spiritual profit margins I am leaning back on all of the lessons I learned when training to become an internet guru. You know the kind of things: making lists, eating only goji berries, and reducing my dictionary of adjectives to solely the word “awesome”.

No not really, that is just my little joke. By lessons I mean the kind of sorcery I can use to move my hobbies and projects around my life and stack them up so that they’ll all fit in.

Though the metaphor that initially jumps to mind to describe this scene is a game of Jenga. I sincerely hope that it’s a baseless analogy because, as I’m sure you don’t need telling, every Jenga tower eventually falls.