I like to go slow

 I grew up on an algorithm-free internet & stories about a time when computers used punch cards instead of screens. Computers were so inconvenient to use that I was considered a nerd just for being able to type and both my primary and secondary schools hosted computer skills classes.

 Information online felt more like an encyclopedic archive than social media. Facebook was revolutionary. Being able to share your thoughts at the click of a button felt incredibly exposing, and it quickly got out of hand. Wikipedia inspired both confidence and suspicion. Memes set the tone for modern humor and 9gag became notorious.

 I'm not sure how to describe what came next other than hitting turbo on information availability and consumption. Trying to keep up with what was happening online felt like living through Zeno's Paradox. Every time you got close enough to touch the goal-post, it would move further away. As you sped up, so did the goal, until I started to feel completely underwater.

It's interesting how you can get used to drowning when you forget what it felt like to breathe.

 I've been thinking about what I want my website to look like. I went down the rabbit hole of making it easy to consume, which it makes it difficult to maintain, until I remembered my old travel blog. I used to keep an online journal of my experiences flying across the continental United States and traversing South America to get back home to Ushuaia.My follower count hit an impressive 53 at one point. That blog was the most fulfilling content-generation experience I had online, because it didn't feel like creation for consumption. It felt like sharing something I found interesting with other people who agreed.

So I'm abandoning my notions of sleek UI/UX and social media compatibility. I will take the time to write down my thoughts. You can take the time to read them if you want. Cheers for taking our time and doing what pleases us.

Wishing you a lovely day,
Amethina
inky@inkycapnip.com 

P.S.: Here's a cool neurographic art piece I painted the other day. I call them squiggles.