jer979Purpose Struggle
Yesterday, I decided that my blogging career should come to an end. I was doing myself a disservice. I told myself that the goal of the posts was to dig deeper, peel back the layers, get down to the core. But by publishing online (or on-chain as the case may be), I was subconsciously writing for others, even if I told myself that I didn't care if others read. So, in an effort to be more authentic, I figured I'd stop publishing and start doing a private journal. Within 2 hours of that decision...
jer979Value. Happiness.
I feel happy. It's fun, it's light, like a feather floating at the beginning of Forrest Gump. But, like the feather, it's not grounded. It can flitter and float away. Value is also ephemeral. We know it when we see it. We feel it, somewhere deep inside. Something connects to us, saying "yes, this is worth it." The "it" that it's worth is energy. Energy in the form of time, attention, money. The things of which our possession is limited. There's a reason why all the great traditions point to "...
jer979Coffee with AI
Every day for the past month, I’ve had a coffee date with AI. I literally sit down, with a cup of coffee, with an appointment on my calendar that says “coffee with AI”. During that time, AI (I’ve used ChatGPT, Gemini, Perplexity, Claude, and Venice) and I literally have a chat, the way I would with a friend. It’s not “write this letter for me” or “do this or that.” No, it’s a chance for us to have a conversation about whatever topic I want. Many days, recently, at least, it’s been about quant...
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jer979Ugly Truths
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jer979Ugly Truths
jer979Purpose Struggle
Yesterday, I decided that my blogging career should come to an end. I was doing myself a disservice. I told myself that the goal of the posts was to dig deeper, peel back the layers, get down to the core. But by publishing online (or on-chain as the case may be), I was subconsciously writing for others, even if I told myself that I didn't care if others read. So, in an effort to be more authentic, I figured I'd stop publishing and start doing a private journal. Within 2 hours of that decision...
jer979Value. Happiness.
I feel happy. It's fun, it's light, like a feather floating at the beginning of Forrest Gump. But, like the feather, it's not grounded. It can flitter and float away. Value is also ephemeral. We know it when we see it. We feel it, somewhere deep inside. Something connects to us, saying "yes, this is worth it." The "it" that it's worth is energy. Energy in the form of time, attention, money. The things of which our possession is limited. There's a reason why all the great traditions point to "...
jer979Coffee with AI
Every day for the past month, I’ve had a coffee date with AI. I literally sit down, with a cup of coffee, with an appointment on my calendar that says “coffee with AI”. During that time, AI (I’ve used ChatGPT, Gemini, Perplexity, Claude, and Venice) and I literally have a chat, the way I would with a friend. It’s not “write this letter for me” or “do this or that.” No, it’s a chance for us to have a conversation about whatever topic I want. Many days, recently, at least, it’s been about quant...
Like the stuff that’s been at the back or the bottom of the refrigerator for way too long, I sometimes discover them.
When I do, I shudder. I recoil. A chill goes down my spine and a feeling of nausea and revulsion swirls in my stomach.
They are simply, well, gross.
It’s the things about myself that don’t make me proud. That make me feel ashamed. Embarrassed. Full of self-loathing. Followed by self-admonishment.
Disappointed that this part of me still exists, despite my desire that it doesn’t.
But wishing they weren’t there is like wishing the fridge magically cleaned itself.
Periodically, I just have to put on some latex gloves, get out the cleaner and a dish towel, empty the fridge, find the rotten stuff, and scrub things down.
Then I just try to be more mindful of what I put in the fridge, when, and how long it’s been there.
And, still, I need to accept that the ugly truths will, invariably, be there again.
Thanks to my friend, Heidi, for inspiring this one.
Like the stuff that’s been at the back or the bottom of the refrigerator for way too long, I sometimes discover them.
When I do, I shudder. I recoil. A chill goes down my spine and a feeling of nausea and revulsion swirls in my stomach.
They are simply, well, gross.
It’s the things about myself that don’t make me proud. That make me feel ashamed. Embarrassed. Full of self-loathing. Followed by self-admonishment.
Disappointed that this part of me still exists, despite my desire that it doesn’t.
But wishing they weren’t there is like wishing the fridge magically cleaned itself.
Periodically, I just have to put on some latex gloves, get out the cleaner and a dish towel, empty the fridge, find the rotten stuff, and scrub things down.
Then I just try to be more mindful of what I put in the fridge, when, and how long it’s been there.
And, still, I need to accept that the ugly truths will, invariably, be there again.
Thanks to my friend, Heidi, for inspiring this one.
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