Una giornata allo sportello AMT può rivelarsi un interessante esercizio di antropologia urbana. Si entra per chiedere un’informazione e si esce con un’identità collettiva che nessuno aveva richiesto. Tra un “neger” e un “maranza”, il miracolo della classificazione è compiuto, siamo una comunità MSNA. Non importa che si abbiano storie, provenienze, lingue e vite differenti, basta non assomigliare abbastanza a chi sta dall’altra parte del vetro. La gentilezza è quella arcigna di chi considera ogni domanda un’invasione di campo, la pazienza, invece, quella di Giobbe, da parte di chi aspetta.

Perché “questi qui” vengono qui a chiedere.

Un comportamento sospetto, soprattutto se praticato in uno sportello informazioni, dove si suppone che qualcuno venga pagato proprio per ascoltare, spiegare e, nei casi più fortunati, perfino informare. È il modus dei “burocrati del disprezzo” cui non occorre nemmeno negare un diritto per far sentire qualcuno fuori posto. Basta un tono, uno sguardo, una parola pronunciata con sufficiente fastidio. Siamo a Genova. La città di porto, degli incontri, delle contaminazioni. Quella che ama raccontarsi aperta al mondo, abituata da secoli a vedere arrivare persone da ogni dove. La città che abbraccia come le sue montagne, ma dimentica di raccontare quanta salita ci sia prima di raggiungere quell’abbraccio. Una salita che si fa particolarmente ripida quando il nome sul documento non è facile da leggere. Perché il problema, alla fine, non è la difficoltà di pronunciare un nome straniero. È la facilità con cui si decide che non valga nemmeno la pena provarci.

College Football Saturday.

Today's game of choice in the Roscoe-verse has the (8-1) IU Hoosiers football team (ranked #9 nationally) hosting the (7-2) USC Trojans (ranked #18 nationally). With its scheduled start time of 2:30 PM CT, this game should fit very nicely into my day's agenda.

GO HOOSIERS!

And the adventure continues.

Catatan Umum Tentang RTP

RTP adalah persentase pengembalian teoretis dalam jangka panjang. Angka ini tidak menjamin hasil per sesi karena setiap putaran berdiri sendiri secara statistik. Volatilitas menentukan seberapa liar naik-turunnya saldo.

Pemain yang disiplin menetapkan batas kalah sebelum mulai.

Hello walking in the sun it feels warmer than it is, and the snow brightens the earth and the air is crisp

In listening to Kamelot album: the black halo: one of my favourite albums, without a single bad track. The time was right again for me to listen to this.

I think this snippet is a good one I think on the loneliness of death which nonetheless is a shared, universal experience:

When your time has come  You know you'll be lonely once again  And the final winter comes to us all  Life is treacherous  But you're not the only who must pretend

Fits my mood just fine!

I love this life sometimes.

I had quite a lot i wanted to write about today, but most of it was discussed with myself in the shower, and unfortunately, i forgot the majority of the conversation. anyway, theres something ive been wanting to talk about, something thats been bothering me quite a bit lately. im not an insecure man in any way. this woman wants me, i want her more than anything, im enough for her and shes enough for me. im quite certain of that. but im a very, very jealous man, and she knows that perfectly well. for the past month, ive had quite a few women trying to contact me privately, adding me on social media, or attempting to become friends. and for that entire month, ive done nothing but reject them. sometimes i ask how they found my account, sometimes i simply say goodbye, and sometimes i dont even bother responding. im not particularly interested. i have one woman in mind, and i dont see much reason to entertain anyone else. im not the sort of man who gives people opportunities to slide into my dms when ive already made up my mind about someone. its always been that way, especially when it comes to her. and then i hear that its a perfectly fine thing for her to have male friends. now, i understand that men and women can be friends. wonderful. congratulations to everyone involved. im aware of the concept. its simply not something i personally feel comfortable with anymore, and maybe thats my problem. perhaps its an outdated way of thinking, maybe im just an old man with an old mind who refuses to become “open minded”. but its a boundary ive chosen for myself. what bothers me is that ive made certain decisions with her feelings in mind, and i dont feel that same consideration coming back. i dont particularly enjoy the thought of someone being around her with intentions i know nothing about. even if she has nothing but innocent intentions, i cant exactly climb inside someone elses head and check, can i? i hate this. you never really know what the other person is thinking, and somehow youre expected to be perfectly comfortable with that. and just hearing about it makes everything ive been doing feels.. rather meaningless. why have i spent the past month avoiding women, avoiding conversations, rejecting people who approach me, and generally making sure i dont entertain anything that could make her uncomfortable? because i put her feelings first. or at least, i thought i was. and it isnt the first time weve talked about this. no, weve discussed it before. she brushes it off, and things continue as they were. i could do the same, of course. i could accept every woman whos been trying to contact me, add them all, have conversations, and pretend theres absolutely nothing to it. but im not interested in playing that game. just because something bothers me doesnt mean i need to find a way to make it bother her too. thats called being mature. maybe shes just young and sees nothing wrong with it. maybe im the one making a fuss over something that shouldnt matter. i dont know. but no matter how many times i try to look at it differently, i dont think its a rule im willing to change for myself. sure, ive done things differently before. ive had my own childish moments, and im not going to pretend ive always been some wonderfully mature individual. but i thought id grown out of certain things. apparently, growing up hasnt made me any less difficult. how lovely. its not even just about the men. its about feeling like something ive repeatedly explained doesnt seem to matter enough for her to consider it. i wish i could tell her these things without having to prepare myself for what comes afterwards. i wish i could simply say something bothers me without it becoming another argument. but whenever i try to explain myself, im arguing. or trying to argue. so eventually you start wondering whether its even worth explaining anything at all. and thats rather unfortunate, because i do want to talk to her. i want to be able to tell her whats bothering me without feeling like ive just started another disagreement. i dont want to keep swallowing things until they become something much bigger than they needed to be. we dont talk as much lately. that was something we both agreed on, changing certain things so we wouldnt end up being as complicated or as toxic as we used to be. and i understand that. i wanted that too. but sometimes i wonder whether we're actually fixing anything or simply finding new ways to avoid discussing it. i dont want to lose her over something that could probably be discussed, but i also dont want to keep pretending things dont bother me just to make everything easier. and thats not even the only thing bothering me. i feel rather lost when it comes to us. i love her, that much hasnt changed, but sometimes it feels like she sees me as a future while im struggling with the present. i cant keep being reassured about tomorrow when i barely know where i stand today. and lately, ive spent so much time trying to figure out whats wrong with me, what needs changing, and how i can become someone easier to love.

I wish she'd told me she liked me as i was, that i didnt need to keep examining myself for things that needed fixing. now im not even sure whether im becoming a better person or simply someone i no longer recognise. i dont want to lose her, but i dont want to lose myself trying to keep her either. how terribly exhausting.

Sincerely, A forgotten version of myself.

Nomadism was in fashion as early as  2000 years ago, but the dawn of digital nomadism probably was  21st-century’s  gold rush without the gold. Here the pickaxes were replaced by the  laptops and the frontier was wherever the Wi-Fi was strong. It was the supernova of wanderlust and work-life integration, fueled by the cosmic convergence of technology, globalisation, and millennial ennui . A new breed of worker-bee-cum-adventurer, ready to pollinate the global economy with their skills while sipping coconut water on a Thai beach.

This trend didn't just walk onto the world stage; it sashayed in with the flamboyance of a peacock at a hen party. Blogs exploded with tales of exotic locales and “four-hour workweeks.” Instagram feeds became highlight reels of laptops perched precariously on hammocks, their owners grinning like they'd discovered the secret to eternal happiness (spoiler alert: they hadn't).

As this subculture grew, it mutated and evolved like a Darwinian experiment. What started as a niche lifestyle for tech-savvy freelancers soon spawned an entire ecosystem.  And then, like a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis (if butterflies carried MacBooks), the creator economy took flight. Suddenly, everyone with a smartphone and a dream could be a “content creator,” peddling their personal brand to the masses. YouTubers, podcasters, influencers – a new vocabulary emerged to describe this burgeoning class of digital artisans.

Yet, for all its sound and fury, this global digital renaissance is yet to produce its Michelangelo or da Vinci. While the tools of creation have been democratized, the Sistine Chapel of the internet age remains unpainted. We've traded the artisan's workshop for the co-working space, the patron's commissioned masterpiece for the algorithm-driven content farm and yet we find ourselves in a curious limbo—a world brimming with creative potential but often prioritizing quantity over quality, and novelty over depth. The creator economy represents a seminal shift  in redefining work, creativity, and the very notion of home in our increasingly interconnected world- but is the creator or the economy strong enough to redefine the middle class time tested trend of careerism. What then becomes of the concept of home or family or indeed value creation.   

So while we contemplate the digital nomads of today, tapping away on keyboards in Bali beach bars and Lisbon cafés, it's worth casting our gaze back through the sands of time to their spiritual predecessors: the Bedouin nomads of the Arabian and North African deserts. These two groups, separated by centuries and vast technological divides, might seem as different as camels and cloud computing. Yet, beneath the surface, there are intriguing parallels and stark contrasts that illuminate the essence of nomadism and how it has evolved in our digital age. The Bedouins, with their deep connection to the land and their resilient, community-oriented lifestyle, offer a compelling counterpoint to the often individualistic and screen-centric existence of modern digital wanderers. By examining the practices and philosophies of these traditional nomads, we gain valuable insights into what the current trend of digital nomadism might be missing, and perhaps, what it could aspire to become. 

The modern-day equivalent of wandering the Sahara with a MacBook Pro instead of a camel definitely has it perks. But let's peel back the Instagram filters and examine what this trend really means for our society. Like a mirage in the desert, reality can be as gritty as sand between your toes. 

The original nomads were masters of adaptation, roaming vast landscapes in harmony with nature's rhythms. But at the root of their nomadism was their flight to find safety, earning opportunities and drive trade. Today's digital nomads may more likely  be found frantically searching for power outlets in airport lounges or haggling over the Wi-Fi password in a Balinese cafe, but the core is the same. To find a way to earn a living. Safety, security and regular existence is hard wired in both lifestyles. Yes, the methods and compulsions are totally different but the core need is not very divergent.

Over the past 100 years as industrialisation and then the internet defined the global economy, it was the rise of the middle class that  scaled automation and execution which gave rise to the 9-5 job. And to support the 9-5, an entire ecosystem of suburbia, rent, home ownership,  education, universities and colleges followed suit.  But that is changing. Employment as we know it, will change drastically in the next ten years. Humanity’s greed for more and artificial intelligence will replace a lot of humans from time tested means of earning an employment and they will have to start thinking of nomadism. The parallels are not that far away.  In many ways the first tranche of digital nomads are the early adopters who have shown us that there is another way. The early harbingers of change as you may. A way we need to recognise and pay heed to,  because times, they are a changing. 

Beneath the surface-level trappings of laptops and lattes, there's a kernel of wisdom in this lifestyle that we can all learn from, even if we're more “homebody” than “world traveler.” This wisdom is like a seed that can germinate in any soil, whether it's the fertile ground of a globetrotter's experience or the well-tended garden of a settled life. It's a philosophy that transcends mere travel, offering insights into how we can all live more fully, regardless of our geographical coordinates.

The essence of nomadism isn't about constant movement; it's about adaptability and presence. It's about carrying your home within you, rather than being tied to a physical structure. In our hyper-connected world, we can all benefit from cultivating this nomadic mindset, even if we never leave our zip code. Think of it as being a mental chameleon, able to adapt to any environment while maintaining your core identity. It's about being as comfortable in your own skin as you are in your favourite armchair, whether that chair is in your living room or a café halfway around the world.

Consider the nomad's approach to possessions. They carry only what they need, valuing experiences over things. In our consumerist culture, that's a revolutionary idea. What if we all adopted this mindset, treating our homes not as storage units for stuff we rarely use, but as base camps for life's adventures? Imagine your life as a backpack: what would you keep if you had to carry everything you own? This isn't just about decluttering; it's about reevaluating our relationship with material goods. It's the difference between being weighed down by possessions and being lifted up by experiences.

Then there's the nomad's relationship with time. Without the artificial construct of a fixed schedule, nomads live in tune with natural rhythms. While we can't all abandon our calendars, we can learn to be more present, to value the quality of our time over its rigid parceling. Think of time not as a linear progression but as a series of moments, each rich with potential. It's about being as attuned to the passage of time as a surfer is to the ebb and flow of waves, riding each moment for all it's worth rather than constantly checking the clock.

The nomadic perspective on community is equally enlightening. Traditional nomads form deep, if temporary, connections with those they encounter. In our world of superficial online interactions, we could all benefit from cultivating more meaningful, in-the-moment relationships, whether with our neighbors or the barista at our local coffee shop. It's about creating a tapestry of connections, each thread unique and valuable, rather than a monochrome blanket of shallow acquaintances. Imagine treating each interaction as if it were a campfire conversation under the stars – intimate, engaging, and potentially transformative.

But perhaps the most valuable lesson from nomadism is the art of embracing uncertainty. In an uncertain world obsessed with planning and predictability, the nomad's ability to thrive in flux is a superpower. It's about being comfortable with not knowing what's next, finding opportunity in change rather than fearing it. Think of life as a jazz improvisation rather than a classical clarinet – the joy is in the spontaneity, the unexpected riffs that arise from embracing the unknown. It's about developing the resilience of a palm tree in a hurricane, flexible enough to bend with the winds of change without breaking.

So, while we may not all be cut out for a life of perpetual travel (let's face it, some of us just really like our own beds), we can all inject a little nomadic wisdom into our souls and outlook. It's about cultivating flexibility in our minds, even if our bodies stay put. It's about finding adventure in the everyday, carrying our sense of home within us, and being open to the possibilities that each moment brings. Imagine your mind as a tent – easy to pitch anywhere, providing shelter and comfort, yet always ready to be packed up and moved when new horizons beckon.

In the end, whether you're a globe-trotting digital nomad or a committed homebody, the true spirit of nomadism isn't about where you go, but how you approach life. It's about living with intention, adaptability, and presence. And that's a journey we can all embark on, no passport required. Think of life as a vast desert – the nomadic spirit is the compass that helps you navigate its dunes, find oases of joy and meaning, and leave your footprints in the sand of human experience.

It's greenest where you water it. And with a nomadic mindset, you can turn any patch of ground into fertile soil for growth and adventure. Your life is your own personal Promised Land – the nomadic spirit is what helps you make the most of it, whether you're crossing continents or just crossing the street.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go on a nomadic journey to find where I left my car keys. In this micro-adventure, I'll channel the spirit of ancient explorers, treating my living room as uncharted territory, my couch cushions as unexplored caves potentially hiding treasure. Who knows? This quest for keys might lead to unexpected discoveries – a long-lost sock, spare change, or perhaps even a moment of clarity about the true meaning of home. After all, isn't that what the nomadic spirit is all about? Finding the extraordinary in the ordinary, and realising that sometimes, the greatest journeys are the ones we take within our own four walls.

Imagine our existence in the form of a loom. Each of us would be a thread, unique in our identity. Progressing through life, we would weave in and out, creating patterns of connection that would go on to form various motifs. We would cite these as experiences. Like in the art of creating fabric , the intricacy of weaving would define the complexity of these relationships. The deeper the relationship, the more each thread would need to resonate, with the aesthetic.

But what truly synthesises this harmony ?

Consider a weaver sitting at her loom. She selects each thread with intimate care. Some threads are vibrant and bold, demanding attention, while others are subtle, providing depth and nuance. The same way threads define the visage of our society, people define its culture and and historical permanence. Some people burst into our lives with the brilliance of a golden thread, immediately catching our eye and altering the pattern of our existence. Others have a more subtle entrance, like a strand of fine silk, their impact only becoming apparent over time. We cannot chose their arrival, but we can chose their permanence.

The process of weaving is tensile – the warp threads must be pulled taut to allow the weft to pass through and create the fabric. Our most significant relationships similarly, involve a degree of cathartic tension. Navigating this requires a degree of commitment which is only visible in a friendship that weathers misunderstandings, a love that endures distance, or a familial bond that survives conflict. These are the threads that create the most durable and intricate patterns in our life and it is where the true strength and beauty of our connections get revealed.

But like in many things its the outliers who shape the strongest narratives.

Some of the most fascinating, fleeting encounters profoundly shape our lives, while some of our closest relationships barely leave a lasting mark. You remember that missed connection on a delayed flight, the waitress on that sidewalk cafe or the guy at the library who was searching for that same book. But you stop talking to the brother you were born with over some disagreement.

What magic, makes us resonate with some people and not so much with others? Why is this chemistry so weird and unexplainable? Sometimes the threads merge and the stitch becomes imperceptible. Sometimes you pull one extra strand and it all unravels .

A weaver can introduce a variant of metal into a wool cardigan, creating a shimmer that catches light in surprising ways. A composer can blend a minor fall with a major lift creating a tune that becomes immediately hummable in our subconscious mind. It is the unexpected connections that add the most intriguing dimensions to our everyday experiences. The chance encounter with a stranger that leads to a lifelong friendship, the colleague from a different department whose perspective transforms our work, or the author who speaks directly to our soul – these are the metallic threads in our life's tapestry, adding unexpected yet visceral sparkle and joy.

Consequently not all threads work harmoniously together. Some combinations clash, disrupting the overall aesthetic of the piece. Some threads are beautiful in their own right but don't contribute positively to a particular pattern. Discerning which threads enhance our design and which ones tangle or distort the aesthetic is incredibly important. Because ultimately its the final symphony that matters.

Stand too close, and you might see only a chaos of colours and textures. Step back, and a coherent image emerges.

In the day-to-day, we might focus on individual interactions and relationships, but it's only when we gain some perspective that we can appreciate the intricate patterns in unexplained relationships conditioned over time that control a lot of our emotional happiness.

The metaphor of weaving extends into our professional realm as well. Each of us, with our unique experiences, skills, and perspectives contribute irreplaceable acts that impact the lives of others. The teacher who inspires a student to pursue a passion, the activist who sparks a movement for change, the artist whose work touches hearts across cultures – individuals across our society, weave threads that extend far beyond their immediate circle, creating ripples that alter the entire fabric of our society.

We are like the numbers in a number matrix. The numbers are part of the matrix, but the numbers also define the matrix. When the numbers move the matrix moves. Every interaction, no matter how brief, has the potential to alter another pattern. A kind word to a stranger, a moment of vulnerability shared with a friend, an idea exchanged in a professional setting – each of these actions merges millions of threads, potentially changing larger designs in ways we may never fully comprehend. It's thereby crucial to be open, to experiment with new combinations, and to unravel sections that no longer serve the overall composition. It allows for growth, learning, and the evolution of our personal and collective narratives.

Rigidly adhering to predetermined designs often leads to flat, uninspired pieces.

Every thread has value, every pattern tells a story, and every weaver has the power to create something truly extraordinary. By embracing the complexity of the unknown, we remain open to new possibilities, which only go on to enrich the collective design of our life.

Don't define what you don't have to. Not everything has a name. Just respond to your instincts.

You only get one chance to sit at that loom.

It took me a while to realise it, but I am the best audience for the storyteller in me. The man in the front seat with a lifetime ticket. Some of my stories are true, Some imaginary, Some relayed to conjure confidence. Some, to wallow in self indulgence and pity.

Some, to just paint an image which I find appealing.

This realisation fascinated me when I became aware of it. But the bigger realisation was that  it was not just me. It was everyone around me as well. 

The narratives we construct, carefully curated like a museum exhibit of our best selves. Most days they work. But what happens when the exhibit doesn't match the archive?

What happens when it creeps up in small things? Like when I say I’ll be brief, but speak aimlessly for 20 minutes.Or when I insist I'm always punctual, yet my friends have learned to tell me an earlier meeting time. Or when I adjust my answer and become diplomatic , because my choice is less mainstream.

There's a line from Joan Didion - “We tell ourselves stories in order to live.” But sometimes, I wonder if those stories truly keep us from  living. I catch myself in these moments of dissonance. It's not that I'm trying to deceive; it's that the story I want to be true has overwritten the reality. For years I convinced myself that arthouse cinema was the only thing worth watching. It was my intellectual self over-intellectualising my crafted persona. Deep inside though I was fine with  some slapstick comedy from time to time. The laughs were not bad. 

And today I am better off accepting this.

There's a peculiar ache that comes with realising you're not who you thought you were. It's like waking up in a familiar room, only to find all the furniture has been subtly rearranged while you slept. The careful cartography of identity, where we plot our strengths, our quirks, our immovable traits. “Here be dragons,” we scrawl across the areas we'd rather not explore. 

But what happens when we stumble into those uncharted territories?

In reality, it is this gap between our idealised self and our actual self, where the real work happens. It's uncomfortable, like trying to wear shoes a size too small. We can pretend they fit for a while, but eventually, the blisters force us to confront the truth.

Like the author Brené Brown said: “Authenticity is the daily practice of letting go of who we think we're supposed to be and embracing who we are.” It sounds simple, doesn't it? But it's a daily practice for a reason. It's hard. It's constant. It's necessary.’

We craft these elaborate personas. Like method actors who've forgotten they're in a play. We become so invested in our self-image that when reality contradicts it, we're left reeling, unsure of which version is the truth. It's terrifying, this process of rediscovery. Like stepping off the edge of our personal flat earth and finding that the world is round after all. But there's exhilaration in it too. A wild sort of freedom in realising that we're not bound by the limits we've placed on ourselves.

I'm learning that growth isn't always about becoming more of who we think we are. Sometimes, it's about unbecoming. Stripping away the layers of expectation and assumption until we're left with something raw and real. The unwritten script of our lives is messy, boring, sometimes it's downright disappointing. But it's real. And there's a peculiar kind of freedom in embracing that reality.

The idea of me was not me. But maybe my core, in all its imperfect glory, is exactly what I need to be exploring. The truest version of me isn't a fixed point to be reached, but a constant exploration. A willingness to redraw the map again and again, to sail into uncharted waters and discover new lands within my periphery.

I'm learning to listen to these whispers. The ones that don't always align with my carefully constructed persona. It's a bit like tuning an old radio, adjusting the dial until the static clears and the true signal comes through. And sometimes it’s not that cool, but if I am being entirely honest I enjoy  tinkering with it a lot more than the manicured version I was so enamoured with. 

It needed acceptance.

Rebecca Solnit said, “Leave the door open for the unknown, the door into the dark. That's where the most important things come from, where you yourself came from, and where you will go.”

So here I am, standing at that open door, peering into the darkness of my own uncharted self. It's uncomfortable. It's uncertain. It’s clumsy and messy. But it's also thrilling. Because who knows what undiscovered continents of identity lie waiting beyond the edge of the map? 

And frankly now that I have a little less hair and need glasses to read, this journey is worth undertaking.

Icarus has a sad impractical ending. Almost silly to an extent, especially if you are practical by nature. But there is this one thing about Icarus that has always attracted me.

Everyone focuses on the fall. I however feel that the fall misses the point. What always stands out for me is this simple fact:

Icarus touched the fucking sun.

For one brief, blazing moment, he achieved the impossible. He dared more in his failure than most achieve in a lifetime of cautious fluttering.

Perhaps a bit illogical? Maybe.

Perspectives are complex scenarios and cannot really be governed by right or wrong judgement calls. However, if we peel away the layers of the onion, the core idea nestled deep within the fable, is probably about failure and our relationship with it.

Is it better to not try so that we don't fail? Or is it better to try and fail so that we grow? The answer probably depends on the opportunity cost which again is highly subjective depending on two parameters.

The opportunity and the cost.

So are we here to be a butterfly, delicately sipping success from manicured flowers or are we here to be the hurricane that uproots forests and the earthquake that reshapes continents. Mind you, there is nothing wrong in sipping honey from manicured flowers. It's easy, relaxed, low stress and everyone is perfectly within their rights to want some.

I know I would love some.

But honey only presents itself when we have taken care of the basics and then some. For those who are still struggling with the basics, manicured flowers are just beyond access most of the time.

So then what do we do?

Now there are certain situations in life where we absolutely go all in even if we fail, because we don't have any other option and because we want it so badly that the embarrassment of failure is totally worth it.

An example of this would be all of us learning to walk when we are toddlers. However much we waddle and fall in front of the world, we just don't stop. Another example would be that of a kiss. Remember that awkward, messy, terrifying—and absolutely terrible yet essential first kiss?

We don't read how-to guides on kissing. We risk embarrassment, rejection, and possible headbutts. That's how we learn. And we do so because we absolutely want to experience that feeling. What we can embrace, is the notion that every masterpiece that has ever been built has been on a graveyard of aborted attempts. Every breakthrough has been the bastardised creation of a thousand failures.

The greatest minds in history weren't great because they succeeded. They became great because they had the audacity to fail on a scale so magnificent, that it changed the world.

We're however mostly addicted to bubble wrap existences, swaddled in “participation trophies” and “learning environments.” This is very comforting if the decision is to exist for a while on cruise control. But life doesn't grade on a curve and the universe, the government , the tax man and the quarterly organisational reorg don't generally give a damn about our comfort zones.

So the question is should we ? And if so for how long?

I feel, we really need to reframe our relationship with failure. It is not some bogeyman lurking in the shadows of our endeavours, but mostly our doppelganger in the form of an insensitive teacher.

Can we ever discover a new flavour if we don't risk ruining a dish? Can we ever win a live audience without risking a discordant note? Can we ever write something of value, until we have risked our words to be rejected by eyes that see it?

If the consequence is minimal is the subsequent grand?

So, what if we went out courting a bit of failure but within safe limits? Just to keep the habit alive?

Flying to the sun would be stupid, but speaking live to the mirror for those who are scared of public speaking, writing an anonymous blog to those who are afraid of writing, and dancing to our own selves for those who are afraid of dancing, would be great exercises to pursue within limits for example. Because at that moment, and with that choice, failure stops becoming the ignominy of the end.

It transforms into becoming the first step. It evolves into our twisted muse, the other side of our will, our every essence. We simply thereby need to just replace one word in our cultural discourse ;

Failure is not the opposite of success. It's the prerequisite

Many of us chase this idea of freedom.

A belief that true liberation means having the ability to do whatever we want, whenever we want. We dream of lives unencumbered by obligations, responsibilities, or attachments. Or at least the types that we dislike. A pursuit which leads many of us down a path of constant motion, always seeking the next adventure, the next opportunity to experience and thereby assert our independence.

The asserting is important at times, because for some reason, in some situations, only when we assert something do we feel that we can experience it.

The journey starts early. We leave our hometowns, graduate from universities, and land our first jobs until we hustle to what we think are perfect jobs. On paper, we achieve what we set out to do.

We're free.

It's not until we find ourselves completely untethered that we realise that there is this little gap, in our understanding of freedom.

That there is this little emptiness.

There is this bedtime story from my childhood which has often made me think of this ; and this is how that story goes. One day a King is given a horse and told, the further he can ride, all the land would be his. So he rides further and further. He enjoys the acquisition. It's fun. But since there is no boundary he does not know where to stop. He wants more. So, he keeps riding amassing all the land until one day he passes out of exhaustion and ends his life.

For whatever reason, this tiny bedtime story explained to me early on that boundaries are good. That they are actually needed. Because while we are all free birds soaring with wings spread wide, all we can honestly do most of the time is fly in tight, purposeless circles. The vast sky that promises endless possibilities can be pretty empty and daunting when we don't have a destination in mind.

Take off is amazing as long as there is a confirmed landing.

At the core of this dichotomy lies a challenging question: Why do we, as a society and as individuals, find it so hard to commit? Why do we idealise a concept of freedom that often leaves us feeling lost and unfulfilled?

Reflecting on this, some of us might realise that our modern interpretation of freedom is deeply rooted in the idea of independence from external constraints. We've been conditioned to believe that true freedom means the absence of obligation to anyone or anything other than ourselves.

But could it be that this understanding is fundamentally flawed?

Let' s explore some alternative perspectives on freedom. Let's start with the Greeks. After all they had beards , so let's start with the most famous of beards. Aristotle himself.

Aristotle's view was that he saw freedom not as the ability to do whatever we want, but as the capacity to govern ourselves, to make choices aligned with our nature and the world around us. His thinking suggested that true freedom might actually require us to limit ourselves in certain ways.

Shocking one would think! Can you imagine this kind of thinking to trend on Tik Tok?

So – let's now move on from Aristotle to Kant. Immanuel Kant viewed true freedom not as the absence of constraints, but as the ability to act according to moral laws that we, as rational beings, impose upon ourselves.

Now why on earth would we do something crazy like that?

Kant proclaimed that humans are most free when they choose to follow their own rational principles rather than external influences or mere impulses. His idea of “moral freedom” emphasised self-governance and the capacity to override our desires in favour of what reason and morality dictated.

Kant believed that by exercising this form of freedom—choosing to act ethically based on universal principles determined through reason—we could fulfil our nature as rational beings. This perspective, like Aristotle's, suggested that freedom is closely tied to self-discipline and moral responsibility rather than unconstrained choice.

Can you imagine Kant in a classroom full of emancipated kids born in the 2000's? Riot I would assume. But dislike the bearded oldies as much as you want, fact remains that without boundaries we cannot actually choose and we all love choosing.

So, while there is no law that says we need to listen to bearded philosophers, there might be a small argument in stating that as we grapple with different ideas, we might start to acknowledge how pursuit of absolute independence at times can reject the very things that provide us with a sense of purpose and fulfilment.

An emptiness that cannot be filled by watching Tik Tok reels.

Sometimes we are so focused on breaking free that we forget to consider what we're freeing ourselves from. Maybe, the demand is not for freedom? Maybe the thing we we need to ask ourselves is “What do we really want with our freedom?”

The true answers might surprise many of us.

Human being often want connections, responsibilities, and a sense of belonging to feel a sense of fulfilment. They want to create, contribute, and be part of something larger than themselves.

In short, they want commitments. But on their terms.

This realisation can be transformative if we start to internalise it. We can begin to accept that commitment is not a constraint on our freedom, but a route to achieving it. By choosing to commit to relationships, projects, and causes that align with our values, we can sometimes find a sense of purpose and direction that may have been lacking in our lives.

This process however isn't easy. It requires facing fears of limitation and vulnerability. And acceptance. But if we can face those fears and embrace our chosen commitments carefully , we may discover a richer, more meaningful kind of freedom. A freedom rooted in the ability to building lasting relationships, working towards long-term goals, and being part of a community.

The freedom we truly desire may not be about the ability to do whatever we want, but about the power to choose our commitments wisely? About having the courage to say “yes” to the things that matter most to us, even if that means saying “no” to others?

Maybe commitment and freedom aren't opposites.

Maybe they're just complementary forces which, when balanced, lead to fulfilling lives. by giving us unlimited joy in the responsibilities we chose and the liberation we feel in our willingness to embrace them fully.

It is true that none of us want obligations in our life. However, it is equally true that some obligations force our hand and help us become the people we aspire to be. The trick lies in choosing the right obligation.

Life happens in that little space – where choice meets purpose – that's when we can truly spread our wings and fly.

I’m going to sleep a little bit early today so that I’m really rested for tomorrow! I’m honestly pretty afraid and nervous because tomorrow is my first real birthday party, and I’ve also done a lot of stuff for it and I hope it goes well. But also I guess I’m just really thankful to have hit late game in real life.

Writing about yourself

I lay in bed & a massive moth flew straight into my face.

I’d just bought a new oscillating fan to chase the mozzies away. According to urban myth a fan is just the biscuit to do that job. The blades make a kind of wind-wall that mosquitoes can’t navigate. Apparently.

“eddy,” I called across to where he was propped up on his stand, facing the picture of the Dutch girl.

“The mozzies aren’t here, eddy, but the moths are.”

“That always happens,” mused eddy. “You solve one problem & something else rears its head.”

“I’ll live with the moths, boet.”

“Klopdisselboom.”

We were quiet for a bit. The fan hummed. The moth had gone off to sulk somewhere in the curtains.

“You know, eddy, I write a lot about myself. It seems, my friend, that I learn about myself by reading what I wrote about myself. Talking to friends isn’t always the same.”

“Haaibo!” exclaimed eddy. “What about me?”

“You’re the exception, old friend.”

eddy was silent for a moment, the way he gets when he’s lining up something proper.

“Writing about yourself is good for the soul, Mastelek. It’s like cleaning the old bicycle chain. You get the grit out. Most people walk around with half-understood feelings stuck in the links, grinding away. When you put it down on paper you force yourself to look at it properly. You see the pattern. You see what you keep doing. That self-awareness is the difference between just existing & actually riding the road you’re on. Happy people aren’t the ones who never have problems. They’re the ones who know themselves well enough not to keep crashing into the same pothole. Healthy minds do the same. They notice the warning signs early. Writing is one of the best ways to notice.”

I smiled in the dark.

“Thanks for that, eddy. I’ll reward you tomorrow with a good wash using Sunlight soap. You’ll be all sexy for those Bianchis.”

“Lekker, Mastelek, you need to trim your beard & look respectable for your trip down to Slaapstad.”

Just then the Dutch girl piped up. She hardly ever speaks. She just looks at the world with that mischievous grin on her face, hanging on the bedroom wall.

“I’ve been alone since the 1950s. My creator never painted me with a companion. All I’ve had is the samovar & now eddy. All he says to me is that I should have been Italian.”

“Sorry, Gorgeous,” replied eddy, trying to dig himself out of the hole he’d dug.

“What do you think about being alone?” I asked her.

“Well,” said the Dutch girl, “you will find yourself when you’re all alone on some beach, staring at the crashing waves & the rising sun, with no one around except the feel of sand between your toes.”

eddy & I thought about that.

She was absolutely right.

Ronald Bartels | LinkedIn | Instagram

13 October 2026

Folder (working title): at Yenah's grandmother's house, the ornamental chairs in the kitchen were a looming gathering of stages under the dining table. One night, Yenah left a folder of work documents on one of the seat cushions. I saw it catch the moon from the floor in low light, frozen like a cubist corpse or a mostly rigid fortune teller fish within the curling wooden networks of the furniture. An open casket of receding planes and information spotlit but obscured. Not lying flat, but between waking and sleeping, rising and falling.

Cross-border software teams operating between Bogotá, Mexico City, Austin, and Taipei share code repositories seamlessly, yet spoken video handoffs still stall when teams lack a reliable Spanish to English video translator. When a field QA analyst in Medellín records a four-minute video reproducing a payment gateway edge case in Spanish, or a LatAm product researcher captures user interviews with local merchants, US and APAC backend engineers who only speak English or Mandarin often wait days for someone to write a manual summary in Jira.

By the time a bilingual project manager translates the bug report into written bullet points, subtle clues in the spoken walkthrough (like the exact moment a webhook timed out) get lost. Running engineering and user-research videos through a structured translation and dubbing workflow lets distributed squads watch and hear the exact reproduction steps in their own working language within minutes.

Why Syllable Density Matters in a Spanish to English Video Translator

Engineers looking up how to translate a video from Spanish to English quickly notice a timing quirk that trips up basic audio replacement scripts. Linguistic research on cross-language speech rates, such as the comparative corpus study published in Science Advances on Information Density and Speech Rate Across Languages, shows that Spanish speakers typically articulate more syllables per second than English speakers while conveying a comparable rate of semantic information per minute.

When you translate a spoken Spanish walkthrough into English (or reverse the direction to localize an English sprint demo into Mexican, Colombian, or Castilian Spanish), naive tools either clip the end of sentences or leave awkward dead air over screen transitions.

Comparing Cross-Border Video Triage Workflows

Distributed software organizations deal with two different video formats: recorded .mp4 videos (such as customer interviews or bug captures) and structured architecture or sprint briefings built inside a presentation studio.

Localization Challenge	Basic Auto-Caption Player	Raw Audio Track Replacement	Scene-Aware Video Translation & Dubbing
Syllable & Pacing Adjustment	Text flashes too fast to read while watching UI logs	English or Spanish audio drifts out of sync with clicks	Scene-by-scene timing control plus Lip-sync dubbing
On-Screen Diagram Text	Leaves slide callouts in the original language	Audio-only; ignores canvas labels	Dual script and slide-canvas localization in studio drafts
API & CLI Jargon Preservation	Phonetic mistranscriptions (kubectl, OAuth2)	Translates literal words inside code identifiers	Editable script verification before rendering

Nearshore and APAC platform teams standardizing async bug handoffs on Leadde's Spanish to English video translator route their sprint recordings through two complementary modules depending on whether the input is a raw screen capture or an architecture deck.

Using AI Tools > Video Dubbing and studio translation controls to localize engineering walkthroughs between Spanish and English.

Routing Recorded Bug Reports and Studio Architecture Briefs

Dubbing Recorded QA Captures in AI Tools

When a LatAm support engineer or merchant sends an existing .mp4 recording, opening AI Tools → Video Dubbing lets the triage lead upload a clear video with minimal background noise, select English as the target language, and enable Lip-sync when an on-camera speaker is present. Previewing the dubbed result before export ensures technical accuracy, voice timing, and REST endpoint names (/v2/webhooks/settle) remain intact before attaching the localized file to the Jira ticket.

Branching Architecture Briefs as Separate Studio Drafts

When an architecture lead builds a release walkthrough inside the Leadde studio from .pptx, .pdf, .docx, or .txt specs, opening the Translate menu in the Editor or Share view and enabling both script and slide text translation generates an independent draft in English or Spanish. That way, sequence diagrams, database schema callouts, and spoken narration are localized together while the original master project stays untouched.

Bidirectional Handoffs, Searchable SRT Logs, and Regional Accents

When you need to figure out how to translate audio from a video and make it searchable inside GitHub Issues, Linear, or Confluence, audio dubbing is only half the deliverable:

• Searchable SRT Attachments in Issue Trackers: Whenever you export a translated video from the share page or editor, download the synchronized .srt subtitle file alongside the 1080p MP4; attaching that .srt file to a bug ticket allows backend engineers to Ctrl+F for an HTTP status code or timestamp without scrubbing through five minutes of video.
• Regional Spanish Dialects for Outbound SDK Enablement: Localization runs in both directions. When US or APAC product teams ship a new SDK or merchant dashboard feature to Latin America, selecting the exact regional dialect inside the Voices library (spanning 88 languages and 175 dialects, including Mexican, Colombian, Argentine, and Peninsular Spanish) ensures enablement videos sound natural to local engineering partners.
• Sprint Triage Norm Across Time Zones: Allowing contributors in every regional office to record bug reproductions and architecture walkthroughs in their fastest native language, then running the file through Video Dubbing or Translate as new draft before posting to Slack, gives every squad native-language audio and searchable .srt logs on day one.

Cross-checking localized English voiceover timing and SRT timestamps against API logs during sprint triage.