science fiction author, beatmaker, against fascism

Category: Metaprogramming Page 1 of 30

Obligation = Connection

The other day I was grinding through some family obligations, feeling resentful because I had a whole list of other things (mostly entertainment related) that I wasn’t getting to. This was my hard-earned vacation, dammit, and here I was driving back to the doctor’s office to retrieve a scarf, followed by walking a reluctant dog in the rain.

But then I remembered something I had learned but almost forgotten. Obligation is connection, as are most types of responsibility. We do things for other people because we love them and care about them. If we were totally free of obligations, we’d also be totally free of relationships. Alone and lonely.

My kid was very happy to see her scarf. My dog was happy to be inside, out of the rain, having peed.

Life is an endless grind of dishes, laundry, things breaking and getting lost, procuring and preparing food, paperwork, resource management, and complicated planning. But all that is true even if you’re alone. If we’re doing these things for and with other people (and sometimes having them done for us, the joy!) then we’re operating in a privileged space. One that we can choose to be grateful for.

Boundaries are another topic, not for this post. I don’t have any problem with setting boundaries and letting people deal with their own shit. The challenge for me, which I succeeded in that day (and will hopefully remember going forward), is remembering that obligations are the opposite of loneliness.

I Am Psyduck (Anxiety is Ridiculous)

In the animated show Pokemon Concierge, Psyduck causes surrounding objects to levitate when experiencing anxiety. It’s a recurring gag in the show; Psyduck gets stressed about something, and various pots and pans, coconuts, and other items start to hover, inevitably crashing down and wreaking havoc.

Well, Kia recently realized that I’m Psyduck. I start to get stressed about some little thing (a late package, a missing spoon, a scheduling issue) and my anxiety begins to spiral. I become irritable and unreasonable. If I were in the least bit telekinetic, surrounding objects would definitely start to hover.

But it’s good to realize that I’m Psyduck. Yes, I’m sensitive and prone to disproportional bouts of anxiety. But, also like Psyduck, I can use various methods to calm myself. I can remember to take five milligrams of lithium orotate. I can chill the fuck out, and laugh about it.

Which Pokemon are you, psycho-emotionally?

2025 Recap (Spreadsheet Breakthrough)

Looking back on 2025, the most significant thing I did was create a spreadsheet.

Sounds underwhelming, for sure. But this spreadsheet was unlike any other spreadsheet I’d ever created, and I’m someone that LOVES spreadsheets. I make lists, track fictional characters, outline plots, plan my life, etc–all with spreadsheets. And this was a sort of planning spreadsheet, in a way. But for me, a new approach.

On this particular spreadsheet, each row represented a month, while each column represented an important life category. Fiction writing, music production, home improvement, dates with my wife, activities with my kid, going out/visiting friends, health, etc. If I wanted to track it, I created a column. The 2025 spreadsheet had twelve columns in all.

I then filled out each cell with planned or desired activities and events, setting the text to bold if/when they actually occurred. Below the month rows, I filled out spaces beneath the columns with yet-to-be scheduled activities in each category.

For the first time, I could see a picture of the year in terms of my actualized values and priorities. I could see which categories were getting neglected, which ones might be a bit overcrowded.

And as a result, 2025 was the first year where I felt like my social life was “back”, fully recovered to pre-pandemic levels. That felt good.

What Was Actually in the Spreadsheet?

The social activities were my peak experiences last year. Hosting a couple great parties, wine nights with the boys, starting a new D&D campaign, going out to some club nights and concerts, dates with Kia, dinner parties with friends, etc. I feel blessed with family and friendship.

But I also had some professional success. I started a new consulting company, JD Moyer Solutions LLC, and made bucketloads of money. Which is good because I live in the most expensive city in the world and pay for the most expensive private school (because nothing else worked). Mark Musselman and I released some electronic music which I think sounds extremely nice (Dream Wave, By My Side, check out our Bandcamp), I worked on a bunch of new Jondi & Spesh tracks, and I started my most ambitious novel yet (Saint Arcology, the San Francisco version, which precedes the Mumbai Saint Arcology, which will be Book 2).

But it’s the social stuff I’m most proud of, and remember most.

What were your 2025 highlights?

 

Artistic Values for 2025

I’ve done some work on consciously prioritizing my values, and that work has served me well. I know what I stand for, and that makes decision making easier.

But when I found myself in a creative/artistic lull at several points during 2024, I realized that I hadn’t ever thought about my values specifically in regards to creativity.

Maybe, in this age of AI-generated slop, it’s more important than ever for artists and creators to drill down on the WHY of their creative process. It’s a way to push back against the capitalistic, soulless, unconscious, theft-based, royalty-dodging, exploitative, human-devaluing “values” of the AI industry.

So for what it’s worth, here’s what I’ve come up with so far. I’m going to focus on these values in 2025:

1. Daily practice/habit

I’m not as fanatic about “write every day” as Stephen King, but I do try to write most days. I know I’m generally happier on days when I write (and/or make music), and of course there’s always the possibility that something I create might be halfway decent. But if I don’t put in the work, I get neither of those benefits.

2. Exploration

One of the great benefits of the act of creating something is that there are almost limitless possibilities. Prevailing norms of genre and style provide structure, but even those boundaries are meant to be broken–or at least tested. So you can pretty much do whatever you want. I like the analogy of making art as an exploration of possible spaces. For each work there is a universe of possibility, and the artist has the privilege of poking around to see if there’s anything good in there.

3. Service

My dad challenged me to ask this question: “Who do you serve?” Does your work serve the shareholders of a corporation? The owners of a privately held company? The mission of a nonprofit? Your family? The people in your community?

As artists, if we only chase commercial success, there’s a possibility we’re following the agenda of some corporation that’s trying to sell the most lowest-common-denominator “content units.” But if we ignore all markets and only serve our own artistic sensibilities, there’s a possibility of getting lost in the black hole of our own belly button.

So maybe there’s a Goldilocks space in between, where we serve others with our artistic efforts, but we don’t try to please everybody, or make the quickest buck, or force ourselves to work in styles and genres we don’t really like.

That’s it! What are you own artistic values?

Wishing you all a Happy New Year!

Why Do We Try Hard Things?

A few weeks ago Kia dropped a huge self-knowledge bomb on my head. Well-meaning, of course. And totally off-the-cuff. But her comment made me understand something profound about myself. And that realization has significantly changed my self-image.

I was complaining about how something I was trying to do was difficult (as I often do). Kia pointed out that almost everything I try to do is difficult. Writing fiction and getting it published, producing music and selling it online, writing good software. None of these things are easy.

Crowded markets, intense competition, middling rewards–these are the hallmarks of the things I choose to do.

Even the things I do for recreation are challenging: improving my chess ELO, collecting every item in Elden Ring, collecting every shiny in Pokemon GO, painting tiny miniatures with very small brushes.

Everything I try to do is…really hard.

Maybe you’re the same way. We push ourselves in different ways. Some people run marathons or lift really heavy weights. I prefer “grindy” challenges where I try over and over again until I get slightly better at what I’m doing, or just get really lucky.

It’s not hard to understand why I enjoy taking on difficult tasks. The struggle and effort are mentally stimulating, and succeeding and/or winning feels good. If the challenge were less, so would be the intrinsic rewards.

But I didn’t fully realize that this was my way. Now, when I felt frustrated with a string of losses or a huge expenditure of effort with little immediate result, I can step back and remind myself “I chose to live this way” (and maybe dial it back a bit, or take a break).

I can be ambitious without feeling trapped by that ambition.

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