A Solitary Cabin

I use internal metaphors to develop strategies on how to approach plans and accomplish things. One metaphor I've long used is the solitary cabin. The image of a solitary cabin comes from my long-term vision of how I want to interact with the world, especially in terms of social connections and, over the last decade, the internet.

I’ve often said I’d like to have a solitary cabin out in the woods—a place where I live, cook, read, and think in peace. Then, occasionally, I’d travel into town to get news, meet up with people, pick up some new books, and generally reconnect with the wider world. Afterward, I return to the solitude to reflect, create, and recharge.

This cabin metaphor represents carving out personal space in a hyper-connected era. For my tastes, we live in a time of overconnection. I need significant stretches of alone time to process what I think, plan what I want to do, and then, when I'm ready, share those ideas, creations, or experiences. This sharing might take the form of blog posts, gaming sessions, or brewing beer.

I don't desire total isolation, nor do I wish to be constantly connected. My ideal place on this spectrum shifts and changes over time—I want the freedom to ride these waves according to my needs and moods.

In recent years, finding this balance has become increasingly challenging. Since the election especially, striking the right balance feels even more crucial. While sharing memes or quick "hot takes" can be momentarily satisfying, it rarely leads to meaningful engagement or lasting value.

Taking intentional solitary time improves my concentration and enables deeper, more substantial thinking. My good friend Mike Pirnat once said, “When I micro-blog, I only have micro-thoughts,” and this resonates strongly with me, especially as I get older. I strive to foster longer, deeper thoughts because those thoughts lead to better writing and richer insights.

We live undeniably in an age of distraction—so much so that it’s almost boring to point it out. Yet, despite recognizing dissatisfaction with platforms like Facebook or Twitter, many people struggle to break free. My own internal calculus, balancing connection and solitude, digital telepathy and personal reflection, has become essential. Finding and maintaining this balance will help me be better to myself and to those I care about.

Stepping away from ego-driven recognition is part of this balance. Like many young professionals in my industry, I once dreamed about being at the right place at the right time—of having something I created go viral. But the small brushes I've had with internet fame felt more like being caught under the Eye of Sauron than basking in a silver spotlight. I’m starting to see chasing recognition as futile. Even when you catch what you're chasing, it's rarely as satisfying as you hope.

At this point, I'm not even concerned if search engines find these words. Yes, I do want others to read my thoughts, but "going viral" feels more like a curse than a blessing.

So, welcome to my little cabin. Grab a coffee, and let’s chat for a while.