Not perfectionism.

Mackerel sky over Dublin, 9th August 2025.

It is late. And I am very tired. And there is too much going on. After years, a decade? more? of writing a blog post every month, I have not written a blog post for, checks files, five months. And this is barely one. But it is one. I have been reflecting on perfectionism, and not being a perfectionist, on opportunity costs, on refusing to face mortality, on believing I can do more than is possible, on wanting to do more than is possible, on hurling myself against the brick wall of the impossible, on stumbling exhausted in the dark towards the precipice of the impossible, and how not to fall, and how to keep walking, on how to stay alive in a life worth living in a world worth living in. And mostly the answer now is to go to bed. And announce that I’m still here.