"If you’ve embarked on such a journey, the big step is to start exploring your own ideas. Don’t copy what people who came before you were copying from other people. Experiment. Do crazy things. If you stick to the path of building what has already been made, then you’re setting yourself up as implementor, as the engineer of other people’s ideas, as the programmer. Take the opportunity to build a reputation as the creator of new experiences."
As long as you eventually get going again you’ll be fine.
There’s another option, too: you could give up. You can stop making things and become a commentator, letting everyone know how messed-up software development is. You can become a philosopher and talk about abstract, big picture views of perfection without ever shipping a product based on those ideals. You can become an advocate for the good and a harsh critic of the bad. But though you might think you’re providing a beacon of sanity and hope, you’re slowly losing touch with concrete thought processes and skills you need to be a developer.
Meanwhile, other people in their pre-epiphany states are using those exact same technologies that you know are broken, and despite everything you do to convince them that this can’t possibly work…they’re successful.
"This may in fact be the kind of fiction we deserve as people who blithely surrender privacy in exchange for convenient communication and the comfort of conformity, but it’s not the kind of fiction we need. We need fiction that is complicated without being alienating, that portrays the ethical tensions of significant technological development, that shows people struggling to make sense of the socio-technical world around them, that gives readers the tools to do that same kind of sensemaking work in their own lives."
when you look at me
you see my purpose,
see my pride
you think i just saddle up my anger
and ride and ride and ride
you think i stand so firm
you think i sit so high on my trusty steed
let me tell you
i’m usually face down on the ground
when there’s a stampede
i’m no heroine
at least, not last time i checked
i’m too easy to roll over
i’m too easy to wreck
i just write about
what i should have done
i just sing
what i wish i could say
"The young monk starts to contemplate what he should do, and after a few moments, runs out of the hall distressed, for he cannot figure out what he is supposed to do. He can take the coal and be burned, or he can refuse the gift of the abbot. Both, in his mind, are things he cannot do."