"Just let go," he said. "Let go. I'm right here."

Okay then, letting go now. Seeing where I land.

I'm in the process of reading Babylon's Ashes, book six of the Expanse series. In it someone important, one of the main characters, dies. Now, part of me is thinking, ugh, I don't want to give away any of the plot, but really, come on, of COURSE someone dies, a billion people died in the previous few books. That, and the George R.R. Martin effect: every author has to kill off a main character these days.

After the character dies, different parts of the solar system (yes, read that correctly, the Expanse series is a space opera after all) react in different ways. The side that liked the deceased mourn the loss. The friends of the deceased mourn the death. The side that was against the deceased celebrated the death.

Celebrated.

Party and joy at the death of a person trying to make the human-known (fictional, of course) universe a better place.

I sat with the thought for a bit. The authors tell the story in a biased way, of course. You're rooting for the good guy, for Holden, and his people. That's who you met first, so of course he's on the correct side. And really, the other side killed a few billion people, on the way to destroying all of human-kind with their actions, so, we really can't say they are the good guys even if their motivations of throwing off oppressors seems legitimate. Because of the bias, though, the celebrating is, uh, uncomfortable?, dishonorable?, wrong?

I continued to sit with the the thoughts, though.

If I die and there are people cheering, could that mean I did something right? Sure, yes, it could mean I did something very right, if the cheering comes for those who fought against doing the right thing for reasons of greed and desire for power and dominance over others, but it could also mean I did something very very wrong, thinking the case of people who are fundamentally evil.

If I die and people mourn, more that just my friends, I have to believe that was the end of a life worth living.

If I die and no one notices, wouldn't that be the worst kind of life lived?

Still sitting with the thoughts and the discomfort.

Should a death ever really be celebrated? A life yes. But a death?

Okay, so, for as long as I've been aware of these boxed cards of questions (I'd guess back in 2002 when they were first created by TableTopics as a plastic cube), I've wanted a set. Aside from the idea of "whoo hoo infinite writing prompts!" having a number of conversation starters available would be fantastic, as I often struggle with small talk in unfamiliar crowds.

Anyway, excited about them.

So, when in Great Britain last year or the year before, I picked up this set of cards. Excitedly, I recently opened the box to use a card as a writing prompt.

And came up with this card.

What is your most embarrassing moment?

I haven't managed to move beyond that card, because, well, here's the thing.

You, the general you, haven't earned the right to hear about my most embarrassing moment. That's a level of vulnerability I would share with very few people, and, really, why would I want to open myself to any sort of ridicule with the story of my most embarrassing moment. And, yes, shameful moments lose their power when you work through them, when you dust them off, when you bring them to the light and see them for the small things they are. But that dusting needs to be done with people you trust, who have earned that trust, in a place of safety.

So, yeah, that excitement for these cards pretty much died on the first card. Subsequent cards aren't as bad, but I'm fairly certain I'm not going to be going through all different boxes of conversation starters now.

I spent an hour or so today chatting with a younger developer. He was pondering going back to school, and wanted some input, some guidance. I'm unsure I helped him out, but I did give solicited advice, and that's usually fun to do when you like helping people.

Our conversation did what most "I don't know what I want to do with my life" conversations do: it meandered. It wandered from motivations ("I want to be happy." "I want to have fun." "I want to do something meaningful."), to entertainments (stories about various adventures), and various places in between.

A struggle most developers have is doing work that is interesting to them. There are different levels of "interesting" and different levels of "work." I find front-end development and performance work fun and interesting, usually regardless of the site's content. Yes, I am more likely to be interested in working on a site that millions of people use monthly than a site that's visited by two people a month (Hello, my two site visitors! Love you both!), but I still find the process fun.

One suggestion I gave was to have a side project, one that is motivating and interesting for yourself. With a side project, it doesn't matter how boring or difficult work becomes, you always have a project that excites you, keeps you moving, keeps you learning, keeps you motivated. I then went on to describe rereuse.com to him. I described my vision of the site, how it would be used, and how easy I wanted the process of decluttering to be.

As I talked about the project, I became more animated, as I do with topics that interest and excite me. When I was done, he said, "Why is that a side project? That's a great start-up idea."

And boom.

There you have it.

The fundamental problem with the start-up culture in the United States in one sentiment.

No, the idea of rereuse is a TERRIBLE start-up idea. It has only one way of making money except for advertising, though, really advertising is the "easy" way to go. Given rereuse is about consuming less and giving away crap you no longer need or want, advertising is exactly the WRONG business model for the site.

Meaning, there is no way to make money with the site.

I'm building the site because I want it to exist. I have opinions (I know, shock) about how I want to give way my stuff, and there doesn't exist a simple "take a picture, push 3 buttons, boom, stuff is gone" process yet.

Yet.

As a business, well, I will be thrilled if this site is self-sustaining.

That's right, the site likely won't even be self-sustaining. And that's okay. It helps me. It keeps me motivated. I'll have a site that I can point to as a portfolio piece. I'll have a site to include as an example in my talks (of what to do and possibly what not to do, too). I'll have an easy way to get rid of my crap in a way that I want to give the stuff away. It satisfies all my needs and wants for the site, and won't make any money. And THAT IS OKAY.

It just isn't a great start-up idea in any way, shape, or form.

And again, that's okay.

Now, back to giving solicited advice...