The Cost of Not Changing Things Up

This week, I realized that for years, I’ve been looking at life changes in terms of cost. How much will it cost to move, how much will it cost if I quit, how much will it cost if I fail.

Nothing of worth comes on a silver spoon

Despite warnings and signs, friends and teachers, and despite being part of moments in spacetime I would gladly revisit, my aha moments always necessarily originate internally, most often when I put myself in challenging situations. I always want to know what’s in the pita.

While waiting for an officer to write me a bogus citation today, it hit me that much as in the same way I measure things from both sunk vs. opportunity cost perspectives in business, I forgot to do that with my home and personal life. The cost of what I’m doing in one place is more than what it costs me emotionally, physically, and mentally; it’s costing me true happiness that I’m leaving on the table.

Forget silver, there is no spoon

I love this thing. It’s not my family (of course I love them), it’s literally a thing. I have fallen in love with an open source thing. That passion has caused me to ignore the bigger picture. And who the fuck loves a thing over themselves?

When someone or something is tied to a prior transformation, it’s hard to give it up. It’s an edifice, a token. It’s also just a thing. And since this particular thing is open source, it’s free (for now at least) so at least there’s no sunk cost for me to keep using it.

There may be no spoon, how about a knife

I feel like a snake during ecdysis, or maybe a pile of phoenix ash. Either way, change is coming, and bitches, watch what happens between here and Denver. I have something no one is expecting. I will cut through so much wrapping paper that the present inside will be a fun little aftershow.

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