Hello! We're all busy, so I'm going to try my hand at writing less this time. Glance over at your scrollbar now to see how I did. Since we last corresponded:

• Dropped in on the Ruby AI podcast
• Added a new cable to the increasing number of cables plugging my face into my computer, which shipped with some pretty glaring issues, some of which I talked about
• Found somebody else saying that, in the short term, AI codegen is going to dramatically increase the demand for software as the supply constraint on programming eases
• Made an open source library called Straight-to-Video that performs client-side remuxing and transcoding of videos, beating them into shape for upload via the Instagram, Facebook, and TikTok APIs
• Hosted my brother after he sold his house, which (of course) coincided with nonstop power and Internet outages. Rather than do something about it, I complained into my microphone
• Mourned the fact iPhone 18 Air apparently got cancelled or delayed to Spring 2027, continuing my losing streak of falling in love with Apple's least popular hardware
• Learned I have huge fucking turbinates, even relative to my already huge fucking head

My good friend Ken took me to the Magic game last night some number of nights ago. It was a great game because we were losing very badly, and then it became very close, and then, right at the end—we won! The classic comeback narrative arc was fulfilled. Sports!

I was reflecting on life the other day, which is a thing I do more often now that I'm firmly in Phase 3 of my evil plan to ride off into the sunset and gradually be forgotten by all of you.

My original plan for this essay would have pulled at the common thread that ties things like game design, derivatives trading, reality shows, and sports betting together. Unfortunately and unsurprisingly, it was taking me too long, and I'm now running out of time in November to give you a recap on what happened in October.

(By the way, don't be surprised if I just send you all a postcard for the December issue. I'm still new at running a monthly newsletter, and I'd prefer not to find out what happens when I fall more than a month behind. Feel free to demand a refund by replying to this message.)

So, anyway, like I said, my actual essay fell apart. Instead, I'm going to share a personal example of how a series of consequential decisions can paradoxically be both productive & rational, while simultaneously being costly & misguided.

I'd do it all again

It all started with one stray piece of unsolicited feedback.

Keep reading…

It's me, your friend Justin, coming at you with my takes on September, which are arriving so late in October that I'm already thinking about November. To keep things simple, I'll just try to focus on the present moment for once.

Below is what I apparently put out this month. I'm sure I did other shit too, but none of it had permalinks:

• Added Tot to my (very) short list of apps I use every day, finding it helps me manage the ephemeral text needed to juggle multiple coding agents
• Cut only one major release of the podcast, but did apply two Hotfixes with José Valim and Mike McQuaid
• Iterated on how I work with coding agents. At this point, it is extremely rare for me to write code by hand
• Coaxed said AI agents into building me a tool that automatically adds chapters to a podcast based on the presence of stereo jingles, which I thought was a clever idea (brew install searlsco/tap/autochapter)
• Created a GitHub badge to disclose/celebrate software projects that are predominantly AI-generated shovelware
• Marked one year since "exiting" the Ruby community by giving my last conference talk, then proceeded to entangle myself all over again
• Bought the iPhone Air because I thought I'd love it. Now that I've had it a month, I'm pleased to report it's exactly what I wanted—probably the happiest I've been with a phone since the iPhone 12 Mini

By the way, if you've heard things that make you wonder why anyone would want the iPhone Air (e.g., it looks fragile, it's slower, it only has one camera, it gets worse battery life), this picture was all I needed to stop caring about any of that:

I lift weights, so I know I am literally capable of holding a half-pound phone all day, but I personally just couldn't abide the heft of the iPhone 17 Pro. Carrying it feels like a chore.

To be honest, over the last month I mostly stuck to my knitting and kept my head down trying to get POSSE Party over the line. The experience has been a textbook case of how a piece of software can be 100% "done" and "working" when designed for one's own personal use, but the minute you decide to invite other people to use it, the number of edge cases it needs to cover increases tenfold. Not enjoying it.

Another reason this newsletter is arriving late is that for two days I completely lost myself in OpenAI's video-generation app, Sora. It's very impressive and terrifying! I posted some examples of my "work", much to the confusion of both my hairstylist and Whatever God You Pray To. I also wrote some thoughts on what tools like Sora might mean for the future of visual storytelling, if you're interested.

Interestingly, Sora is designed as a social media app. Its obvious resemblance to Instagram and TikTok is striking. As someone who banished social networking apps from my devices years ago, I (and my wife/accountability partner) was immediately concerned that I was so sucked in by it. But where those platforms addict users into endless passive consumption of content and advertising, Sora's "SlopTok" feed couldn't be less interesting. After you sign up, create your avatar, and follow your friends, it's all about creating your own videos. There is functionally no reason for anyone to visit their feed. Whatever appeal other people's videos might have is dwarfed by the revolutionary creative potential of typing a sentence and seeing your blockbuster movie idea come to life, with you and your friends playing the starring roles.

I guess that explains why I spent so much time thinking about AI and its relationship to creative expression this month. I manually typed that just now, by the way. And an hour ago, I was waffling over whether to manually or generatively(?) fix a bug on my blog. And now I'm typing this sentence right after command-tabbing back into my editor because the realization that everybody is always in the "starring role" on Sora gave me the idea to generate a series of videos where my avatar merely lurks in the background. It is creepy as hell and fantastic.

That distracted impulse to go make a 10-second movie mid-paragraph raises a question: why do I so thoughtlessly reach for AI to generate videos, but agonize over whether to use it to write code? And what does it say that I categorically refuse to let LLMs write these essays?

Greetings, because that is today's topic.

The Generative Creativity Spectrum

Add creativity to the long list of things I've had to fundamentally rethink since the introduction of generative AI. Up until that singular moment when Stable Diffusion and GitHub Copilot and ChatGPT transformed how people create images, code, and prose, I held a rather unsophisticated view of what it meant to be creative. If you'd asked me in 2021 to distill the nature of creativity, I would have given you a boolean matrix of medium vs. intent. I'd probably hammer out three bullets like these:

Okay, I'm interested…

Hope you're having a lovely September so far. Hard to believe it's almost Fall! Always love seeing the first signs of the end of Summer—I refer, of course, to Apple's annual iPhone event.

In case you don't subscribe to my every waking moment, some highlights of stuff I put out over the last month:

• Shared some of what I've learned about using Apple's on-device LLM API
• Suggested a new Star Wars watch order
• Opined about why I wasn't cut out for management
• Recorded two normal podcasts (v42 and v43) as well as an interview with Scott Werner
• Repeated my tireless appeal to get folks blogging again
• Gave up on Claude Code (which Anthropic has now admitted they made dumber for over a month) in favor of OpenAI Codex—specifically, this fork
• Published a command-line tool called imsg for exporting iMessage archives
• From that, I documented a how-to guide on distributing scripts via homebrew
• Did an hour-long review and buyer's guide of the aforementioned iPhone event (pre-orders go up Friday morning at 8 AM Eastern!)

Every month, I scroll through the last month of photos for one to include in this newsletter. Not many pictures this month, so here's a little surprise Becky left me that showed up in our iCloud Shared Photo Library

I feel personally attacked. And thirsty.

Today, I'm writing you about my favorite topic: capitalism. Or, more specifically, I'm here to shed a little light on a few "special" kinds of people who tend to be highly-valued in the economy but who are often portrayed as stereotypical caricatures. Each is as stubbornly human as the rest of us. Each possess an unusual blend of attributes that make them well-suited for the current epoch. My consulting career brought me face-to-face with more than my fair share of these people. The experiences I reflected back on while writing this were sometimes interesting, sometimes impressive, and rarely both.

Spoiler alert: there's more to this…

I just realized that Christmas in July must have been held somewhere, and I missed it. Damn.

Regardless, the blog was busy since we last checked in:

• There's some Xcode stuff for Apple people, as well as the nostalgia of finding the order confirmation of my very first Mac, a 12" iBook G4
• We got in some good thoughtlording with a software design thinkpiece, an organizational design thinkpiece, and an AI thinkpiece
• Reflections on how bang-on my favorite apocalyptic short story set in 2026 turned out to be
• A couple podcasts, too (1, 2)

Also since I last wrote you, they held the final RailsConf, an event and community that had a huge impact on my career. I was honored that Aji Slater summarized my 2017 keynote on stage, even though I don't own a single pair of white pants:

As it happens, I've been chewing on a lot of the same themes I discussed back in that How to Program talk, because the current AI-induced industry shakeup we're experiencing has underscored the importance of taking ownership over how we work. And although I didn't plan this in advance, that's kind of exactly the topic I'm writing about today.

Of course, when I talk about work, I mean it in a quite expansive sense. For most intents and purposes, I retired at the end of 2023. I contend that I still do stuff, but increasingly nothing about my day resembles a traditional job. There is, however, one exception: I now have more meetings on my calendar as a retiree than I did as a full-time employee.

Today, I'll share the unlikely story of how my calendar started filling up again and the even unlikelier reality that I'm completely okay with it (happy, even).

You'll never guess what happens next…

Greetings everyone, and welcome to the middle of July in Orlando, where it's too damn hot outside and too damn cold inside. Thank you for joining our Q2 Performance Review of the Justin Business Unit at Searls LLC. Before I share status updates on this year's strategic initiatives and dig into how we're tracking against our KPI benchmarks, here are a few highlights regarding our output over the past month:

• The latest pre-release build of POSSE Party adds support for four new platform integrations, a 200% increase over the previous version
• I started a new interview series on called Hotfix on the Breaking Change feed, and its inaugural episode is getting rave reviews. When you factor in March's launch of Merge Commits, podcast series are up 300% compared to the year-ago quarter
• "Full-breadth Developers" generated tens of thousands of organic impressions in its first 24 hours of publication, marking the fastest growth of a buzzword-defining post in justin.searls.co history
• Speaking of the website, a new suite of automations has been implemented that add support for scheduling posts in the future, fetching social images for outbound links, normalizing typographical inconsistencies, and pissing off most of my followers by spewing an endless stream of my Japanese restaurant reviews

There were some bittersweet notes this month, as well. The Walt Disney Company decided to conclude its partnership with Searls LLC with the closure of Tom Sawyer Island, ending a 16-year tradition of my posing in front of the name "Tom" on this fence:

What's with all this corporate year-in-review stuff? Well, Becky's latest podcast prompted me to consider doing my own, "6 months down, 6 to go," retrospective on 2025. This is me leaning in.

The verdict is in, and I've decided to give myself a failing grade.

You'll never guess what happens next…

Some number of nights spent in a hotel is the ideal number to ensure the perfect vacation. It is probably more than three nights. It is definitely less than 42. I didn't set out to uncover this fact, but I figured I might as well share this discovery with you: do not stay in hotels for 42 consecutive nights. At least not if you consider it a vacation.

So, why have I spent the last 42 nights in hotels?

Because I wanted to buy a condo as a second home, of course. And the condo was in Japan. And the… you know what, I'm going to stop myself. I've told portions of this story in a narrative form three times already, and I'm not convinced it provides a very compelling arc. "Affluent man of leisure overcomes problem after problem of his own creation in order to acquire a second home on another continent," is not exactly an epic retelling of The Hero's Journey. It's an interesting sentence, maybe, but I'm not sure it makes for a good story.

All I'll say is that this endeavor has been as weird as anything else I've set out to do. And despite being uniquely exhausting, it's already proven to be one of my life's most rewarding side quests. In addition to creating countless memories, this experience has also stress-tested my resolve, my intellect, and my waistline (since 42 nights has also meant 42 restaurants).

To illustrate just how long it's been, dinosaurs still roamed the earth when I got here:

So, without repeating the whole story for a fourth time and without anything else of interest to talk about, I will instead offer you a humble crash course in all of the Japanese vocabulary I have had to learn since I got this bright idea in April and Becky gave me the green light to pursue it.

Content warning: more content…

Remember April? April was a month in a long line of months that left me (and, one presumes, a lot of people) asking themselves, "how did we end up here?" Well, that's what you have this weird newsletter for. And we'll get to that, I promise.

In terms of stuff I did since last time we chatted:

• Cut a couple (1, 2) good Breaking Change episodes. The content is questionable, but the audio quality has never been better
• Summarized what I consider to be the easiest-to-assess traits of strong programmers
• Started using GitHub Copilot in Agent mode, and recorded my vibe code deflowering live on YouTube
• Made Reddit angry by using a computer to generate background images for my house's rooms in HomeKit

I also started a vlog. Right now it just lives in this album in my Photos library, but initial reviews are unanimously positive!

As I start writing this, I'm sitting on an A350 bound for Tokyo, and the flight attendant just announced we won't have WiFi over the Pacific, because Viasat or whoever hasn't launched their latest satellite yet. As a writer and programmer whose greatest impediment to creative output is the risk of distracting myself on the Internet, learning that I would be forced offline for 13 hours triggered a familiar relief. My body softened. Maybe I'll actually get some sleep. If I play my cards right, I might manage to write one whole e-mail between now and when I land. [Update, 19 days later: I did not.] In any case, being kicked off the 'Net for a few hours once in a while can be restorative.

In fact, as luck would have it, one answer to the question posed at the outset ("how did we end up here?") is also, more or less, "because Internet." So today, let's talk a bit about the World Wide Web and how tangled in it we've become.

To be continued…

Hey everyone, remember March? It was 10 days ago now. And so far April is making me long for the good ol' days of two weeks ago, despite March itself having been one of the more turbulent months in recent memory.

I'm going to take a breath and try to recount some March stuff:

• I made my and Aaron's TLDR gem an actually viable (dare I say, nice) testing framework for Ruby, declaring it 1.0 in the process (if you're not a programmer, did you know you can declare any software "1.0" for any reason or no reason at all? As with everything, nothing means anything.)
• I launched a new podcast called Merge Commits and dropped 36 episodes all at once, in response to a survey where respondents agreed I wasn't producing nearly enough content
• I committed myself to launching POSSE Party by the end of the year, then proceeded to spend the whole month doing anything other than work on it
• I figured out how to let my computer drive itself, but it was really bad at it, so I stopped
• I couldn't shut up about how much I was enjoying the game Avowed, and discussed it at length on my real podcast
• We got to see Tina Fey & Amy Poehler live and up close with our old friend Nicole and her husband (and our new friend) Nathan and that was a lot of fun. Nicole and Nathan combine to form a spiffy creative studio, who you should hire to create you things

Oh yeah, I also wasted several cumulative hours of my life staring mindlessly as OpenAI's new 4o image generation slowly poured vaseline all over my face and hair:

Of all these things, what inspired me to write to you today was, oddly enough, the videogame. See, what sets Avowed apart is the remarkable restraint Obsidian Entertainment showed by embracing an intentionally finite design. Avowed exists in an open world, but it is not an "open-world game", certainly not of the sort typified by the game it was destined/doomed to be compared to: Skyrim. (Itself produced by Obsidian's spiritual second cousin, Bethesda Game Studios.) Where Skyrim encourages you to explore its continent however you like, Avowed leads you along a particular path. In Skyrim, leveling up causes your enemies scale up in strength along with you, whereas Avowed's enemies are static—they'll smoke you if you're not ready for them, but you'll obliterate all who stand against you if you take the time to grind some XP first. And while countless gamers have played literal thousands of hours of Skyrim over thirteen years, you would have to carefully sip everything Avowed offers to reach even one hundred hours. When you reach the end of Avowed, that's it. Game over.

In 2011, a horizon-broadening game like Skyrim was what we needed. In 2025, a straightforward and focused game like Avowed is what the moment calls for.

Just one question: Why?

What happens next will shock you…

Congratulations on beating Level 2 of 2025. Can't wait to see what March has in store for us. A couple new initiatives to share from Searls Industries this month:

• Becky started a podcast in conjunction with her Better with Becky enterprise, where she sells monthly strength-training programs via a curiously-slick web application
• I announced POSSE Party, my first solo product. It will launch later this year, and its goal is to help people escape the post-Twitter diaspora by cross-posting your content to your social accounts on your behalf

Yesterday, I returned from Vegas after attending Test Double's annual retreat and quarterly board meeting. I'm coming to grips with a couple things. First, that I'm entirely okay never going back to Vegas. And second, that I'm entirely okay never going back to who I was the last time I needed a Vegas trip to escape my life.

Speaking of Vegas, I couldn't find a single picture from the trip, so let's all pretend this shot with my longtime colleague and collaborator Dave Mosher wasn't taken at Disney World a week prior:

On a personal note, I've changed in some pretty fundamental ways over the past 18 months, and—in case you've noticed how my character arc is distressingly similar to a bunch of other tech villains—I figured I'd explore my transformation in today's note. Yes, I moved to Florida. Yes, I started caring less how my words make people feel. Yes, I'm prioritizing my own wants and needs over those of others.

In short, I've learned to embrace my inner asshole. And I'm frustrated to report that it's totally backfired. Instead, I'm somehow a kinder, more generous, and all-around better person today than the whole last ten years I spent trying to be good.

The birth and death of @searls

Growing up, I had a keen intuitive sense that living for the approval of others would be stifling and counter-productive. More than most, I desperately yearned for acceptance and validation—the corrosive impact of which I was forced to reckon with at a very young age. In second or third grade, I remember playing H-O-R-S-E at my friend John's house and, as he passed me the ball, he asked why I cared so much what others thought about me. I didn't know the answer.

Content warning: more content…

It's taken me a while to figure out what to write for you that would tie a bow around January 2025. My take on the cultural and political realignment we seem to be experiencing? A deep dive into the video workflows I've been developing as an outgrowth of my Breaking Change podcast? Reflections on the distinct misery of feeling like one's life has regressed in some way, and the counter-productive ways American men react to the sensation of going backwards?

None of those felt quite right.

So I sat on the newsletter and waited for inspiration to strike. Then, out of nowhere, an unextraordinary patch for a developer tool I don't use got merged and—through a convoluted series of coincidences—will likely stand as one of the biggest accomplishments of my life.

I'll explain what I mean by that, but first, here's a picture of my brother and me at brunch in a boat-themed restaurant literally named Boathouse and seated at a table built into an actual fucking boat:

What this patch has to do with me

If you're not a programmer, fear not: I don't intend to get too lost in the technical weeds here. That said, some amount of exposition is necessary to convey why the aforementioned pull request matters.

What happens next will shock you…

Welp, we're finally done with 2024.

It was a busy year for Searls family of brands. A few highlights of what I'll remember this year for:

• Launching my first podcast, Breaking Change, and having an absolute blast doing it. Check out the latest episode, where Aaron "tenderlove" Patterson and I spend over two hours stack-ranking a year's worth of puns. (Also available in video!)
• Collaborating with Becky to help build her business's first software product, which I have been using myself as it offers a very good way to go about figuring out which weights to lift and when
• Retiring from conference speaking with one final talk (though I reserve the right to take another stab at public speaking in Japanese)
• Providing minor logistical (and literally no other) support for Jeremy as he continued to 3D print the change he wanted to see in the world, from theme park props to over-the-top character costumes

That said, give it a few decades and if 2024 ever comes up in conversation, the first thing to come to mind will almost certainly be December's passing of my father, Fred.

Rather than wandering around the house and cooking up one of my trademark insightful-but-totally-overwrought essays about life, I thought it'd be more appropriate to print the remarks I shared about Fred at his funeral. The pastor told me to keep it to 5-7 minutes. I did my best, but ultimately found it impossible compress his impact on me and the other people in his life within such a tight time constraint. (Says the guy with the 3-hour podcast, I know.)

The service's program called what follows a remembrance. Does that make it a eulogy? That word feels too strong, to be honest (I've been driving without a valid eulogy license for years). Anyway, here are the words I said.

Let's dive in and find out…

I found myself in need of a post-election palate cleanser, which is how Becky and I found ourselves spending most of November traveling Japan again. As always, I learned a lot. Like that the rhythm game Chunithm is probably too difficult for me to ever become good at. And that the Kawasaki Brave Thunders have a tremendously loyal fanbase. And that driving cross-country in Japan wasn't quite as nerve-wracking as my fears had made it out to be. (Though it's hardly cheap.)

Oh yeah, I also learned that every room's TV in the Toy Story Hotel is set in an Etch A Sketch frame:

As it happens, my grandfather was an executive at Ohio Art and played no small part in bringing the Etch A Sketch to market. He sadly died before I was old enough to ask him for that story, so all I have are bits and pieces I learned from my dad. It's too bad that so many people who've touched my life in such profound ways remain complete mysteries to me. Writing this newsletter is one of a dozen ways I strive to avoid the same fate.

To be honest, this is perhaps the most personal essay I've published so far, if not the most emotionally vulnerable. It's certainly the most detailed account of "who I am", in a certain sense. I have no idea what you'll think or feel after reading this. If you find that it speaks to you, I'd be lying if I were to say that was intentional. The primary audience of every story I tell about myself is myself. And there's never just one story. And those stories always change upon retelling.

Here goes.

You'll never guess what happens next…

I will forever remember October 2024 as the month I managed to clear a year's worth of personal to-do items only to come out the other end asking, "what am I supposed to do with my life when I have nothing left to do?"

Big "dog who just caught the car" energy.

I like to use this newsletter as a way to experiment with different modes of writing. Playful stuff. Put an interesting spin on an old memory. Send a meaningful message by telling a story. Write some jokes. So let's see what we have here…

Looks like you get a stream-of-consciousness essay on the challenges facing software developers in the current job market and ideas for what to do about it based on conversations I've had with various tech leaders. Weird, but here we are. I don't make the rules, I just type out what the voices tell me to.

Before we dive in, I'll take a moment to plug my podcast, Breaking Change, which I feel like is really hitting its stride when it comes to format, content, and audio quality. The best part is that because nothing I say matters, it's like one of those sightseeing buses you can hop on and hop off at any time. Listen here and there. Finish an episode or don't. Write in questions and comments and you'll keep getting free access to more episodes. I've had folks write in to say they take copious notes as they listen and one person who claims to use my semi-dulcet tones as a sleep aid for their newborn. I'm sure the podcast has other uses too, but those are two of them, apparently.

Okay, I'm interested…

Hey everyone, have a good September?

Apologies, as most of my top-of-mind thoughts are hurricane-adjacent as I write this:

• That we decided to escape the storm by driving from Orlando to Savannah on Wednesday morning
• That I spent Wednesday night tossing and turning in bed after Milton made landfall, wondering whether I'd be more upset if there was significant damage to the house (and with it, the hassle of months of insurance claims and repairs) or if there was zero impact at all (rendering my 10 hours in the car an unnecessary hedge)
• That, in college, I rented a house on Milton Street we all called "The Milton", and how disappointed I am that none of Orlando's local news affiliates thought to call me to discuss this fascinating human interest story
• That our house is absolutely fine. Didn't even lose power. And my predominant emotional reaction is, predictably, to feel like the drive was a waste of time

Anyway, that's October stuff. And I'm not here to talk about October stuff, because Searls of Wisdom is a publication that happens in arrears. It takes a full month for these insights to coalesce and maturate in the nacre of my self-indulged mind.

So, let's talk about September stuff.

The one thing I'll remember about September 2024 is that it was the month I gave my final conference presentation. After 15 years of speaking at user groups and software conferences, I've decided to hang up the presenter remote. End of an era.

Here's a pic of me and my friends Aaron and Eileen at the RailsConf: World Edition afterparty:

It's been strange developing so many impactful friendships over dozens of seasonal pseudo-vacations sprinkled sporadically throughout my adult life. I've rarely ever visited these friends where they live, or met their families, or seen how they operate outside the predictable plot beats of a conference event. Each relationship a vignette of awkward run-ins at baggage claim and hotel lobbies. Strained catch-ups at noisy speaker dinners and sponsor parties. Warm greetings crossing paths in convention center hallways. Hushed critiques shared from the back of other people's sessions.

I can happily live without attending another conference. But will that mean living without most of these friendships, too?

Yeah, probably.

Below, I'm going to discuss my decision to announce my retirement from public speaking, how people reacted to it, and what the resulting dissonance can tell us about weighing loss aversion against opportunity cost.

Keep reading…

By reading this you have demonstrated two things: you have at least a passing interest in hearing from me and you know how to subscribe to a thing. That being the case, you might also enjoy subscribing to my podcast, Breaking Change. Right around 20 episodes, and it's settling into a biweekly format that reminds me of the drive time radio talk shows I listened to as a kid to pass the time. If you're interested in the kinds of things that surround me—independent software development, theme parks, Japan, tech news, games and movies, and hypercritical observations about everyday life—you might like it. You also definitely might not like it. No way to know until you try.

And then what happened?…

Last month I talked about the power of pressuring yourself instead of letting the world do it for you. This month, I can report that I followed my own advice and managed to get a metric shitton of work done on the app I'm building. Sure, I fell behind on other goals, I only left the house a handful of times, my to-do list has become a stress-inducing mess, and I can't say I had much fun. And I'll admit, there were times I questioned what the hell I was doing with my life. But think of the productivity! I successfully stimulated my work ethic gland and I hustled hard.

Maybe a little too hard. This was the least blurry of all three pictures taken of me this month:

What happens next will shock you…

June was a busy month. Because Becky's business is in a sort of limbo until I finish and because I'm giving a talk at Rails World about how easy it was to finish, I am extremely heads-down finishing my work on her Better with Becky app. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, though. I think.

This moment in every project reminds me of one of my favorite tongue-in-cheek "laws" of computing:

The first 90 percent of the code accounts for the first 90 percent of the development time. The remaining 10 percent of the code accounts for the other 90 percent of the development time.

One thing I will say is, while the ninety-ninety rule has rung true to me for nearly every team project I've been a part of in a corporate context, it doesn't resonate at all when it comes to my solo work. Maybe it's the acceleration one can build when the full context of the code resides entirely in one's own head. Maybe it's my particular "measure twice, cut once" ethos as applied to planning and testing. More likely, it's that when the person planning the work is the same person that's doing the work, scope creep becomes emotionally untenable once they reach the point of exhaustion. Reminds me of that quote often misattributed to Leonardo Da Vinci, "a work of art is never finished, merely abandoned."

Anyway, because I've been so busy building that app, I haven't gotten out much. Of course, I say that in Orlando-adjusted terms, as I did manage to find time to meet a beloved character actor from Raiders of the Lost Ark, attend a preview event to ride a new theme park attraction, and see the new neighborhood drone show in between pomodoro timers.

Today, we're going to talk about pressure.

But wait, there's more…

During his closing keynote at RubyKaigi, Matz joked that it's really confusing why people would want a picture with him. "Why would you want that?" So a couple hours later I made sure to explain that I don't know why I want it, but could I please have a picture anyway and he obliged after a mock protest:

I'll be honest, I struggled a bit over what to write this month. I spent the entirety of May traveling all over Japan and had so many novel experiences that the only thing more difficult than picking a few favorites to write about would be to arrive at some kind of overarching theme to summarize the entire trip. Searching for the right thing to discuss here put me in an uncomfortably contemplative state, for better or worse.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this decidedly middle-aged edition of Searls of Wisdom.

Spoiler alert: there's more to this…

We kicked April off right around here with a stay at the new Evermore resort's Conrad hotel, which saw fit to include yet another upscale tiki bar in a part of town that contains an order of magnitude more tiki bars than thai restaurants. And five times more tiki bars than pharmacies. Roughly as many tiki bars as schools, judging by a quick search. Anyway, here's me drinking an Oaxaca Colada out of a ceramic conch shell:

Not too much to report this month that I didn't already cover on my web site, as I was mostly heads-down writing software.

Oh, by the way, to all the folks who kindly wrote in to express sympathy about the back pain that I documented here last month: thank you. It was entirely uncalled for (as in, I did not call for it), but I appreciate the sentiment. For what it's worth, I got in to see my physical therapist and she patiently listened to me ramble about the dozen theories I'd been crafting before simply asking, "are you doing the hamstring stretches I showed you two years ago?" At which point, I melted into a pile of humiliated goo and slid away, escaping under the door.

Anyway, stretching my hamstrings every day is helping a lot. God, I hate doing them, though.

April was also defined by the various preparations needed for what's shaping up to be another epic Japan trip. (Incidentally, this is also what consumed a good chunk of last April.) After going to RubyKaigi as a foreign correspondent for Test Double, I've decided to return in a slightly more low-key fashion. Oh, and this time Becky's joining me!

After the conference, I'm hoping to spend a couple weeks wandering heretofore unexplored (by me) regions of the country on a solo language-learning and research expedition. To assist in documenting all the places I'll go, I added a mapping feature to my site that I call Spots.

As I check items off my packing list, I re-installed and logged into several of the apps I use whenever I'm in Japan. Switching my phone to my Japanese Apple ID for this purpose has become something of an annual ritual of mild frustration that nevertheless leaves me ponderous. Why does everyday life in Japan require a full home screen of only-available-in-the-Japanese-App-Store apps? And if we were to compare them to their counterparts in the West, what might they teach us?

When I first signed up for a study abroad program nearly 20 years ago, it was in large part because Japan seemed like such a radical departure from my upbringing in the states. When I took an elective on post-war Japanese industrial design, I was repeatedly awestruck by the number of tools and appliances that solved common problems in ways I hadn't seen before. That so many things are designed and produced independently in Japan made me realize how many facets of life I'd assumed to be constant were in fact variable. Knobs that twisted left when they "should" have twisted right. The tea kettle whose fully-concealed cord resulted in my not realizing it was electric and subsequently melting it over my gas range. The countless bathtub drains whose basic operation escaped me, leading to my checking out from more than one hotel with a tub full of water. But one thing I hadn't bargained for was the degree to which this profound differentness would also apply to Japanese software design.

Japan produces a lot of software intended primarily (if not exclusively) for domestic consumption. For almost every major function of our lives that's mediated by a popular app, it's likely some other app you've never heard of dominates the same market in Japan. The fact these apps often emerged in relative isolation provides a sort of natural experiment, offering us the opportunity to question features we thought were essential and appreciate alternate approaches we might not have arrived at ourselves.

In case it might whet your appetite for exploring these differences, today I'm going to give a quick run-down of a few of my favorite Japanese apps below.

To be continued…

Don't tell March that it's a short month—we got a lot done!

For starters, we completed our first major home renovation since moving in. Apart from twisting my insides into knots from self-inflicted stress, everything went totally fine and all our contractors were awesome.

I also found occasion to extract my first new open source library of 2024 while working on the new Better with Becky app. If you're a Rails developer and have ever felt uneasy about how easy it is to destroy models, check it out!

But I'm writing to you about something else that made my March especially memorable. An old friend came to visit that I hadn't seen in years. His name is chronic back pain, and he's a real son of a bitch.

You'll never guess what happens next…