For the first few years of my professional life, I remember feeling almost envy toward office workers. It’s been long enough ago now that I can say what I did. Almost weekendly, I joined teams of dozens – if not hundreds – of people moving hundreds – if not thousands – of workstations at Microsoft’s headquarters. While I appreciated the money, I always thought the work was absurd. Why didn’t these people stay put or plan their long-term office?
Until today, I haven’t had the energy to even consider going out to the store to be a good capitalist purchasing agent for groceries or inexpensive collectibles. I’ve been wanting to go for the past six days, but six days ago, when I woke up, ready to try to leave, my core muscles just screamed “NO!” Only today have they calmed down enough to where I haven’t been in constant agony. Maybe I’ll go tomorrow?
What is it about a videogame aimed primarily at children that appeals to me so deeply? Answering that question in detail will require going through specific experiences, so let’s summarize Pokémon, and specifically LeafGreen as the culmination of everything I had wanted from other videogames as a kid from a pure gameplay perspective. 150+ playable characters with individual strengths and weaknesses? In a saccharine, idyllic world? The games appeal to me most when I’m feeling unwell.
Seeing some of these stuffed animals for the first time in years instantly brought me back to certain childhood moments. In some more ideal situations, these objects would be few and voluminous in the memories they hold, with the ones I’m no longer attached to going off to better homes with friends and family, or if not, sold or donated. After a day of reuniting scattered memories, I thought of avoiding scattering clutter going forward.
A difficult but necessary question I ask myself while looking at every single item I own is: “Why keep this?” Sometimes, the answer is a clear “there is no reason,” so off it goes into the sell or donate piles to address later. However, for everything remaining, of which this is now the fourth box of random action figures or objects, the question begs a little more nuance. Every object here should have a justification.
I used to spend most days sedentarily engaged in writing or working. The gigs I’ve enjoyed the most have got me out and about, but that might have just been because my hobbies are mainly sedentary. Now that I’m in the process of moving, which you’ll be reading about over the next few months, I’m more likely to spend hours moving things around. The most interesting change is that sitting around isn’t as appealing now.
I don’t know how much of the introduction to “The Story” will start before John [left] and Trishna [right] meet. It’s an important period, to be sure, rife with rudimentary situations where they both have to learn to tolerate reality. As much as they may want to hide from their situations, bullies, and presents, their adolescences, like our own, is where we form our abilities to evaluate when to fight, flight, or delight in escapism.
Fitness isn’t universal. What works for me might not work for you. Within 6 months, I should return to my former apex of rowing hour-long sets, which is not something most people would enjoy. Instead of being frustrated over not being able to do that, focus on what you can do with what you have, for your intended results. I see rowing as a tool that can help me do what I want: more universal tasks.
I have hundreds of people to thank for guiding me along in my career. Every hiring manager, mentor, and deep professional conversation helped. Within those hundreds, I have a casual Top 50 of those who really helped advance me along. After a recent chance conversation at a thrift store with one of my Top 4 career contributors, I wanted to celebrate their contributions, to maybe inspire you as well. Their names are obscured by the TMNT crew: