Memories of my computationally haphazard youth surged while I read Sam Henri Gold’s essay about the MacBook neo.

[The Macbook neo] is not for the people… who already have the MacBook Pro, who have the professional context, who are optimizing at the margin. This computer is for the kid who doesn’t have a margin to optimize. Who can’t wait for the right tool to materialize. Who is going to take what’s available and push it until it breaks and learn something permanent from the breaking.

My boyish curiosity could outpace my Mac’s processor daily, igniting a life-long practice of pushing my machine to its limits and expanding my knowledge. I may need to get a MacBook neo and discover just how far it can take me today.

JavaScript developers working on multiple projects might need to run multiple Node versions. nvm makes that easy, but picking installer defaults can make every new shell session load slowly or cause node/npm errors when using coding tools like Claude Code or Cursor. Let’s restore some sanity to our environment.

“You’re invited. Be sure to come at 4:35 p.m.!” my 7-year-old told his three siblings. He pressed handwritten invitations for our “GALLERY OPENING” made from scrap paper into their hands. It was a few minutes before the event time listed for our formally informal affair. My son was enthusiastic about the photos we had just hung together in the hallway of my kids’ favorite stuffed animals: the bears.

My kids have imagined a whole universe around their plush toy bears; many of these personalities carry names derived from IKEA’s endearing Djungelskog toy. Minutes later, my son would sit on my shoulders and pull back a taped-up pillowcase to unveil the stars of our new hallway gallery.

Right as my son hollered for everyone to come upstairs for the ceremony, my youngest yelled from below, “DAD, I NEED YOU!”

We live in the suburbs surrounded by towering pines and old, leafy maples. The wet, grey season is upon us, and we needed to prepare the land for our descent into fall and winter. A “volunteer” big leaf maple sprouted amid the tall weeds getting hacked down. Should its fate be identical?

Nope! I dug it up and put it in a bucket of rainwater.
A couple days later, I mustered up the energy to find a new home for it.
Here's to the future. 🍁

Our transplanted tree basks in the fall sun.

I couldn’t believe the size of my grin when the lights turned on and the credits ran during a Bugonia screening that Tim Onion invited me to. Was I still on Earth? Was I still living in the timeline where half of the White House got bulldozed earlier in the day? Was I still on the planet where people regularly called evil good, and good evil?

Inversion and contrast are the tools actors Emma Stone and Jesse Plemons and director Yorgos Lanthimos use to play me in their dark comedy. The absurdist plot, borne of online conspiracy theory forums, whack podcasts, and fever dreams, asked me to cozy up to a destitute man and his weirder cousin living on the rural hem of suburban America. It wanted me to shiver at the callous, cold, floor-to-ceiling glass surrounds of biotech CEO Michelle Fuller—a character who may be my cousin with a shared last name.

I spent my summer as a fifteen-year-old working on construction sites in Southern California for my grandfather. Like many caring grandparents, he cared deeply that I learn to do things the “right way” in life. His way.

I learned how much he cared when he barked “Hey, what do you think you’re doing over there?” across the room and pointed at me in scorn while his other laborers kept working. My cousin worked beside me, but he knew what was coming and stopped to watch. It’s so hard to look away from a train wreck.

The house in Southern California where my grandfather’s ire taught me about his beef with ”put jobs”

Dedicated to my papa; a great man. 🩵

Today I taught my four kids how to build a PC. It was a good activity for a rainy day. As my son tightened the screw to fasten the power supply to the case, I thought “wow, these are third-generation PC builders.” and I started remembering how we got to this point.

For me, it started like this:

For decades, air travel sales functioned with a simple division of labor: airlines flew planes, travel agents sold most of the tickets, and a handful of intermediaries connected the two sides. This setup worked. However, despite functional relationships between these parties, they were rarely satisfying to airlines.

While carriers struggled with thin margins and often danced with bankruptcy, distribution intermediaries and travel agencies enjoyed healthy profits.

Airline executives watched this disparity with envy as these businesses thrived on the profits of selling the airlines product. Could airlines one day cut them out and keep the money?