Same again. No rush.
Twenty years in. Twenty to go.
It was about this time twenty years ago — just in the close of 2005 — that I started out as a software developer.
I was finishing off my PhD, and academia would have been my first choice, but for the advice of a retiring mentor, who warned me that it was no longer the free community of scholars that I imagined. In the intervening years, as I’ve watched conditions in academia degrade, and the challenges of friends of mine — with more talent than I ever had — as they’ve pursued academic careers, I’ve come to view this as the single most valuable counsel I ever received. It utterly changed the course of my life. (Thank you, old friend.)
I can’t imagine it’s changed particularly but, back then the university network was all UNIX. In my first year I shared halls with a bunch of computer scientists who showed me the labs, and how to get around a command line, and even how to code up an Elite-style vector wireframe screensaver. There was quite a lot of Quake.
The University for their part gave you a home directory, and a CGI bin, and pretty much free-reign to do what you liked. (Obvious limits applied.) In the name of transferable skills, they also gave (in-hindsight, excellent) classes on this new fangled thing called the web. It was pretty progressive to give them credit.
And so it was, that if it wasn’t academia, it was going to be the web.
Same Again
Twenty years later, a lot has happened. I won’t catalogue it here, but it’s a point of reflection for me.
I’m now 47. (Still. Just. 😅) Even if I won the proverbial lottery, I’m nowhere near wanting to put my feet up. Quite the opposite, really. So I think probably a standard retirement age of about 67 looks about right.
But that’s another 20 years. The same again. And when I think about that, I think, wow, what a wonderful opportunity.
When I was starting out, I had to learn it all (obviously). 10,000 hours they say, and all of that. It’s not that I know everything now — far from it — but I’m already an expert. I’m a veteran. I’ve got the chops.
I look at the last twenty years, and think, yes, I’ve achieved some good things. To look at the same again going forward, from a position of existing expertise, I’m massively excited. What a moment that presents.
I know I’m twenty years in but, in a very real sense, I feel like I’m just getting started. I’m supposedly middle-aged, but that’s invigorating. I feel like a little boy: “Let’s go!”
No Rush
Twenty years is also an age. It’s plenty of time to do anything (pretty much). That means that we don’t have to rush. Indeed, it’s important that we don’t. The biggest enemy — as always — is burnout.
We put such pressure on ourselves — or society puts on us — to get things done now. We cause all sorts of stress about this. But it’s illusionary.
In the short run, we need to satisfy our maintenance needs. We have monthly bills, and so on. We should be putting some aside, and so on. If we’re struggling here, then that’s a real reason for concern. Stress here is legitimate. (It may not help to be stressed, but it’s totally comprehensible.)
Our long-term goals, in contrast, have essentially all the time in the world. Take it easy. Chill out about them. There really is no rush.
Twenty years ago, I could not imagine what twenty years would look like. How much texture they would contain. I had literally no conception.
If somehow I could have understood that twice that was the appropriate timescale on which to plan… — Well, I’d have probably gone slower. I’d have smelled the roses more.
I’ve talked many times about treating work as a marathon and not a sprint in terms of sustainability — in terms of avoiding burnout. That’s the negative story. The positive dual of that, is that it’s not just that we’re conserving energy but that, we’re positively relishing in the work as we go.
Yes, there’s deadlines. Yes, this needs to be shipped, maybe now. But that’s the brick. It doesn’t matter how fast we try to push it, the pyramid is going to take its time.
If it will be worth doing. So should it.
No need to rush, that is all.
I’ll leave you with a musical coda.