I had just written nearly 50 essays. I had maybe written 5 in the last year. I felt tremendously prolific and proud. I felt fulfilled for getting my thoughts and feelings out there on paper -- but I also somehow felt stubbornly dissatisfied. I have an itch to scratch. A bone to pick. A chip on my shoulder. All of those.
On asymptotic, uncomfortable striving
On asymptotic, uncomfortable striving
On asymptotic, uncomfortable striving
I had just written nearly 50 essays. I had maybe written 5 in the last year. I felt tremendously prolific and proud. I felt fulfilled for getting my thoughts and feelings out there on paper -- but I also somehow felt stubbornly dissatisfied. I have an itch to scratch. A bone to pick. A chip on my shoulder. All of those.