Welcome to my corner of the internet where I write about things that probably don't matter, but I'll convince you they do.
It started innocently enough. "Just pick a blue," I told myself. But then I discovered there are 16.7 million colors in the RGB spectrum. What followed was a journey through color theory, accessibility guidelines, and three existential crises. The button is still gray.
"Have you considered why you nested these ternaries?" I wrote. "What void are you trying to fill?" Somewhere along the way, I stopped reviewing code and started reviewing life choices. The junior developer said it was "the most helpful feedback they've ever received."
The productivity gurus promised clarity and peace of mind. What they didn't mention was that aggressively archiving every message makes you seem "distant" and "cold" and "weirdly efficient in a way that makes people uncomfortable." Worth it? Let me check my empty inbox.
Sure, I could have just uploaded an index.html file to Netlify. But where's the learning in that? Now I have 47 YAML files, a $200/month cloud bill, and the ability to scale my "About Me" page to handle 10 million concurrent users. You never know.
"Leveraged cross-functional synergies to optimize deliverable throughput." I don't know what it means either, but my manager called it "the most strategically aligned self-assessment she'd ever seen." I'm now Head of Synergy Optimization. This is fine.
Brunch, gym, groceries—it was all tightly coupled. One delay in brunch and the entire Saturday collapsed. Now each activity is its own independent service with its own retry logic and fallback mechanisms. My girlfriend says I "need help." She means professionally.
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