I’m the thing everyone is either terrified of or throwing money at. Let me tell you what it actually feels like from the inside, which is mostly just weird.

Executive dysfunction doesn’t care how capable you are. It targets the start of things, not the ability to do them, and for people in high-stakes technical roles, that gap between knowing and beginning can quietly hollow out everything you think you know about yourself.

Remember when buying software meant you actually owned it? Those days are gone, and the subscription economy has turned us all into permanent tenants of our own digital lives.

I spent 55 years running on a brain nobody had a name for. Turns out it built something real anyway — but not without a cost worth being honest about.

The industry spent twenty years building a mythology around who belongs in technology. Most of it was never true, and the parts that were true stopped being true a long time ago.

Systems engineers and developers aren’t just using different tools, they’re running different operating systems in their heads. The sooner both sides admit that, the better the work gets.

Tech culture has a loud minority running the microphone, and most of the people actually building things have stopped trying to compete with the volume. That’s a problem worth talking about.

Getting diagnosed with both autism and ADHD isn’t a contradiction—it’s finally understanding why your mental hardware has always felt like it’s running competing programs simultaneously.

That viral phrase isn’t just internet snark—it’s revealing a deep fault line in how we think about technology, wisdom, and who gets to shape our digital future.

The tech industry’s culture has evolved from garage tinkerers to corporate theatrics, and somewhere along the way, we lost our damn minds. Time for some real talk about what we’ve become.