Two and a half years ago, I pulled my finger out and managed to put together a design for this site that I was somewhat happy with. “Finally,” I thought, “I have somewhere to write, and share my thoughts!” I would note down all the things, become internet famous, and life would be fantastic.
I wrote, on and off, for a year or so, but it’s now been over a year since I last posted anything. And so I find myself up at 1am wondering what happened. The painful reality is that I do not have a cult following, nobody particularly cares about this little corner of the web, and ultimately I was writing (or not) for an audience that didn’t exist.
This realisation quickly turned to thoughts about the day job – with a few notable exceptions, the Internet and my work on it is mostly what I think about. If I’m not motivated enough by that to come here and write about it, is work motivating enough? I’ve had the privilege of working at some fantastic places, with some equally fantastic people – I should be over-motivated at this stage of my career.
But somehow I’m not. It’s not that I don’t enjoy my job – it’s just that I don’t get to the end of any given day and look back at all the things I may or may not have learned. Imposter syndrome is a terrible thing, and Messrs Dunning and Kruger have a lot to answer for. Fortunately, I’m slowly learning to overcome these effects in my life, but they both make it very difficult to acknowledge even minor achievements.
So… fuck you, imaginary audience. I’m going to write about shit, whether you like it or not. The past year has had more than its fair share of action – leaving Mozilla, moving to (greater) New York, starting at Etsy, seeing my son walk for the first time – and I could have written about all of it. But I didn’t, because I was scared of you and what you might think.
From now on, this place is for me. If you want to come along for the ride, you’re more than welcome, but there’ll be no farewells when you decide to get off. And with that, good night.