Life Update: September 2026

Caveat emptor: this piece turned out heavier than I anticipated. 

First, an explanation. 

Last week I had to pass the buck on a post I was writing because I couldn’t make it work. This was extremely frustrating and I apologize to all of you for that. Long story short, it was an open letter to the CEO and owners of several subservience corporations who have been in the news recently. My goal was to write a letter encouraging them to cease activities that I view, not just as invasive, but as detrimental to human development in general. Try as I might, there was no way *I* personally could write that letter without letting my frustration boil over, or sounding hopelessly naive. It’s frustrating to admit, but I couldn’t make it work at all and I have scrapped it for the time being. I hope to return to this subject someday, hopefully none too late. In exchange for that subject, I have written an update on how my life is going... sorta. 

Second, a warning. 

I’ve noticed in my recent posts a tendency to claim absurdism as my philosophical outlook, with a Diogean influence. I don’t wish to keep harping on it just because I know you all have your own outlooks, but I will reiterate the point that, however absurd, incomprehensible, hopeless, or inherently meaningless I find existence, I do still choose to make my own meaning, to make my own hope and to laugh at the absurdity instead of sinking into despair. I have to underline this, but it’s just as important to admit when I’m feeling the weight of existence. And fair warning, me admitting that will get pretty heavy for the next few paragraphs. 

Third, a weary diatribe (Complaint... Grievance...? I don’t know which is the right word I’m looking for here.) 

A few months back in May, I made my list of goals for the year. Last week it hit me, finally, that I’m 27. It hit me right during the middle of a bad work day. I have some general anxiety issues, and I admit I tend to spiral. I suppose that this bad work day left me in a spiral. 

I need a new job for better health insurance and better financial reasons. I privately have to bemoan the fact that no one seems to be hiring, and companies don’t even seem to be responding to applicants anymore. I don’t know if this is because we’re in a shit economy, AI influence has made my type of work redundant, or the uncertainty around the midterms has resulted in a hiring freeze. 

Over this summer I’ve had two explorations of relationships, and two determinations by the guys I met that we shouldn’t continue.

In the last couple of weeks I’ve noticed that I haven’t taken as much pleasure out of reading as I usually do. I’m hoping that this is just because I’ve read a lot recently and I’m just in a cycle. But I’m worried that my brain is seeking the cheap trill of YouTube algorithms and Instagram doomscrolling. 

I saw a report this week that the earth might be running out of fresh water. I haven’t seen any substantive confirmations yet, mostly because I’m too scared to check, but in light of the reports about AI data centers water consumption this seems scarily plausible. 

I don’t wish to harp on politics, but the way this country, and the whole world is going is depressing. Not to make too fine a point of it... but the president doesn’t seem conscious half the time, and actively malevolent when he is.  Not to mention that the Vice President of the United States recently said that he’ll be happy if his work leads to the end times... 

I just have to ask. WHAT. THE. FUCK? 

Are you familiar with the motif from Medieval art called the Danse Macabre? It’s usually an image of death, personified like the grim reaper, leading the dead and the soon to be dead from all walks of life in a dance to the grave, a rather on the nose allegory reminding people that mortality is universal and we will all die. Let me stress that: it’s a reminder that we will die. But modern life seems to be led by billionaires and politicians who have misunderstood the danse as a fucking queue to the exit. It’s like they all know we’re going to die and have figured, “welp, might as well start on the way.” 

Fourth, the worst part. 

I know I started this piece with an expression that I’m aging, but in all reality, I know that I’m still fairly young. And given the fact that I’m young, I could just be misunderstanding what I’m seeing. But does anyone else feel like this? Does anyone else feel like our leaders and some of the public are suicidal? Like they don’t see any possibility of changing paths because it’s too late?  

It’s been twenty-five years since 9/11. I admit I don’t remember it all too well. I just about remember my dad coming home from work early, and a terrible malaise, but I don’t remember the day. In retrospect however, I’m starting to think that this terrible event was the moment we all just gave up hope. I feel like it was the moment humanity nervously caught its breath, thought about the past horrors we had been trying to ignore and the bright future we had been trying to build, and then we exhaled in confusion and fear. We collectively decided that our only option to protect ourselves was to end everything in a mad, selfish scramble of war, greed and hatred towards the other. 

And it’s working. Barely taken us 30 years. 

Fifth, an attempted understanding and reconciliation. 

I realize that I’m struggling with pessimism, maybe with depression. But I want to emphasize that, difficult as it sounds, I do still have hope. It’s alive in me somewhere. It’s an absurd spark of joy dancing in me somehow. Just as I was writing this I realized I was singing along to some music I had playing, and that brought a smile to my face. Earlier today I laughed at an old Zero Punctuation video. 

What I want to know is, how do I spread this spark of joy? I don’t want it to die with me. Maybe through reconciliation, meaning I should reach out to people who share different ideologies, people who annoy me, people who have wronged me, people who just straight up hate my guts, people who I just straight up hate, - and forgive them, and ask forgiveness in return. Reconciliation and acceptance. 

I refuse to let other people decide how I should live my life, or decide that my life is already over. Fuck that. There is no middle finger big enough. I want to live, I will live, and I want other people to live with me. 

Fuck this end times bullshit. Choose hope. 

Me, a few months ago. I like this picture. 

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