I am typing lying flat in my bed, below a cut out cardboard box that keeps the laptop edge from cutting my stomach. If it slides down, it threatens to chop through my throat. At times over the last three weeks, this seemed not such a bad thing. It would make the pain stop.
This is Part 1. I need to write.
In writing, there is coping. In coping, there is hope.
On December 25th I was in my driveway, pushing my R6 back into its parking chock after doing minor repair and maintenance in preparation for a holiday trip. Usually, I turn on the engine, rev the throttle, and the bike goes in. For some reason, I decided to push the bike. …
In September, I spent two weeks in Vijayawada, Andhra Pradesh, India, helping teach the prototype of our Android course to a group of college professors. Our hosts treated us in the most welcoming, empowering way I’ve ever experienced. I felt like being wrapped in a warm blanket of human generosity. I may never have been happier.
The culture shock hit like a truck when I returned home. Within days I was back to where I had been emotionally before this trip, unable to enjoy much of anything, trapped in a life that seemed to suffocate me with daily chores and old baggage. …
I think Lesson #2 hits the mark:
Other than not-for-profit ventures, I believe the rest […] don’t have a viable business model.
And without a viable business model, there is no way to become at least self-sustainable. I’ve been thinking about this in the contexts of reverting to freelancing, quitting Google because ten years is a long time, writing more of my own stuff and selling it, creating cool mobile apps, doing art, writing and recording music, turning pond plants into a business, riding a dirt bike to the top of Everest, going back to…