Just me, some Rooibos tea, and a quiet sunrise in Cape Town.
Take care, take aim
Take all the very many
Things about you
That I adore.
into your service,
Load them into a rifle
And aim it at my core.
Take aim and take care.
we buried the others’ words
within our souls.
and like seeds they sprouted
saplings of who we would become.
The first time I told you I loved you,
I was still figuring it all out.
I still am, I guess.
The situation appears to be terminal.
I’m resting on my haunches
over by the power outlets in SFO.
The sounds of idle construction,
buzzing somewhere off in the distance.
Layover’s delayed – God knows for how long.
This itinerary has a mind of its own.
Feels like eternity ago
that I hopped from CLE by way of BOS.
Nameless travelers drift listlessly by,
toting baggage they’ve collected along the way.
We’re all simply waiting on our next connection.
Those who have spent some time around the Plastiq offices have probably heard me refer to one of my favorite alter egos – “Past Dan” and “Future Dan“. It all started as a joke when a co-worker and I were digging through some old code, and I just couldn’t decipher why I’d written it that way.
“Past Dan must have been out of his mind when he wrote this,” I mused. Laughs all around.1
Since then I’ve been increasingly using the monikers to refer to both decisions or actions that I made in the past (Past Dan) and things that I’ll have to deal with in the future (Future Dan).
Examples of usage include:
- “Hmm… we can leave that one for Future Dan to figure out.“
- “Well, Past Dan clearly didn’t know what he was talking about.“
- “Alright! Looks like Past Dan already covered that case in the documentation here.“
Over time, I became aware of an additional psychological benefit that arose from referring to my past and present selves as separate individuals.