Years ago, I thanked an Airbnb host for having a Twin XL mattress so my feet didn’t hang off the edge.

“Oh, I actually like when my feet hang off the edge.”

Every night since then, I’ve intentionally hung my feet off the edge of my mattress.

It’s the 1960s. You have no mouse and no keyboard, and nobody has a computer on their desk. And you’re wearing a space suit.

How do you design a computer to be easy to use in this situation?

The Apollo Guidance Computer’s idea: numeric verbs and nouns.

Verb 16: display. Noun 65: time. Enter.

Bam. Simple yet powerful.

(Also, y’know, because I enter verbs and nouns here.)

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Learn more:

• MIT Science Reporter
• 13 Minutes to the Moon
• Ars Technica
• Apollo Flight Journal

Really Bad Chess is actually really good chess. It’s the obvious joke, but it’s true.

I never liked chess because openings are arbitrary. If everyone played optimally, wouldn’t every match play out identically?

Well, Really Bad Chess randomizes your starting pieces based on your skill.

So every match is different, and immediately interesting. And it clicked.

Computer chess is a mental workout. It’ll push you as hard as you push yourself, so there’s no excuse for not trying my best.

And like exercise, it counterintuitively gives me more energy afterward, not less. Everything else feels easy in comparison: “oof, I tried my best and still lost. Might as well do some chores now.”

This has even improved my mental health. Zach Gage, if you’re reading this: I doubt you intended this game to treat depression, but it treats mine.

Anyway, while it’s true to say “computers beat humans at chess”, it’s both more complete and more interesting to say “humans built computers that beat humans at chess.”

I’ve done some of my best writing ever in Stickies. Seriously.

Because Stickies lets me…

Meanwhile, file editors force me to do all the opposites. What a distraction from actual meaningful work.

Computers should work the way humans think, not vice versa. Stickies does, so it’s a bicycle for my mind.

The Boy and the Magical Robot, composed by 40mP

This song’s story spoke to me.

Given its title, I guessed it was an anime opening. But then I watched the music video and lyrics.

Three minutes later, I was sobbing.

The lyrics are autobiographical: as a kid, 40mP was too shy to sing in front of others. But then he discovered vocaloid software, and though it didn’t sound perfect, it let him make music. Hence, a vocaloid song about vocaloid software itself.

And that’s why I like computers.

In the ’80s, desktop publishing enabled anyone to write a book. In the ’90s, desktop video-editing enabled anyone to make a movie.

Here, without vocaloid software, this song simply wouldn’t exist, nor would the remakes and even dance choreography based on it.

Computers enabled all this creativity, and that warms my heart.

Check out the lyrics, and the real-life story behind the song—they’re poetic. No other song has inspired me like this, so I must declare this my favorite song ever. 🩵

I have a new writing style: word golf.

Why? Skimmability—I respect your time.

(Also, it’s nice on small screens.)

I started enjoying this on Mastodon (say hi!), even though that’s technically character golf. But I find that fewer words skims better—less visual jumping.

Here’s an example.

Don’t let perfect be the enemy of good-enough.

My rewrite?

Sometimes, imperfect is okay.

Nicer, huh?

Am I overthinking it? Always.

But does it add up? Probably.

And is it fun? Yah.

Don’t talk this way—but do perhaps write this way. Always optimize for your medium.

Yup, I’m always overoptimizing something. Perfectionist here.

But worse than overoptimizing? Being unsure what to optimize.

Hence why I’ve blogged so rarely. Should I optimize detail? Accuracy? Interestingness? Now, I’m prioritizing skimmability.

Yes, the order of your priorities matters, and no, I’m not sure here. But hell, editing time matters too.

Anyway, now that I know what to overoptimize, I’ll be blogging more. Stay tuned.

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