Two Years of Blogging; A Reflection

It's now two years since the first time I published on this website. So it's roughly 24 months. I just counted; I managed to release 28 blog posts until today. Actually, it's an impressive number. I'm surprised it's 28, and I would have maybe guessed it's 15.

The front page now looks kind of how I like it. It's bursting with originality, and it's slightly intimidating. I'm happy about the information section on the top, enumerating all my social information, like my GitHub account and related handles. But it's kinda difficult to understand the depth of the "Writing" section, though. There's a lot to take in.

I dislike that the blog has no name and that I'm still hosting it on "....github.io". That's against my principles, as I want to own my namespace. But I don't feel like fighting it either. The ".github.io" handle is also kinda nice because it symbolizes that this is a technical blog.

I've started disliking the blog's theme recently. Specifically, how it looks on mobile devices. I just find it odd that on the root page, the navigation is on top, while it is on the bottom when reading an article. I really don't need this "Share" dialogue, and I doubt that my readers naturally understand what "TOC" means (it stands for "Table Of Content").

When visiting an article on mobile, an additional problem is that it's unclear what website they're on. In "reading mode", my blog has no header indicating that it also hosts other content. There's no affordance telling the user that "this is a blog." They probably expect to find information on the top, but there's none.

I like the /projects page, and I try to update it regularly. I think it's been doing wonders for my external technical credibility. As the web has become a space of beguilers, I notice the importance of having an online CV that confirms my technical capabilities.

About the visitor numbers on plausible.io, I'm happing with the recent uptick in SEO-related traffic. Actually, I've been obsessing over it recently. I want to prove to myself that I am a writer whose words can impact the world. It's hard even to prove it to myself: But I've come to believe that there's more than just clicks and retention numbers. I like to think that, sometimes, when I publish, I actually change or inform people's decisions. I imagine that people who run crypto startups read my posts and become influenced.

But it's so hard to name just a minor impact with certainty. I mean, I know that my posts are having an impact as most of my freelance clients in the last two years have originated directly from this website. I know that I'm having the attention of some influential people in the crypto space. But I could never say so, as there isn't any connecting proof or public displayable clue.

I'm happy to see my email subscriber list on substack.com grow, and I'm glad about having reached 60 Discord members on my Rug Pull Index server, but I'm craving for more. I think what I want is to have the freedom of exploring my intellectual curiosity by being more financially free.

I like working for the projects I have right now, but I often feel like being capable of solving much harder problems. I often ponder before descending into rabbit holes; it's because of the anxiety of not working on "paid problems." It's probably irrational; but I'm fearing to harm my financial status and career by tackling too complex technical problems.

With my blog here on timdaub.github.io, I've started seeing myself as somewhat of a tech columnist, and I've also wondered what exactly it is what I'm doing. By no means do I have any reasonable understanding of journalism, and probably it's one of those occupations I would have never thought to touch with my work. But I'm now frequently asking myself if what I'm doing isn't a form of journalism, really. If words, sentences, language and terminology are such exciting concepts, do I even want to have a monolithic career in building software?

Prompted by my blogging success, I started journaling my thoughts offline too. And recently, I've come to better understand the meaning behind "journaling."

Today, through this structured effort expressing my thoughts on the latest developments in the cryptosphere, I almost understand it as a craft or art. I still spend a lot of time on plausible.io, checking my post's stats. But I'm also mindfully emphasizing the idea that if I write something I personally find meaningfully, that then others will come to appreciate that too.

I've had phases where all that counted was clicks: That's how "web3 is a stupid idea" and "Ethereum isn't fun anymore" were written. But reading those pieces now, I'm not too impressed by their assertions and rhetoric.

I love how well I optimized those posts for doing well on social platforms. Still, I am truly proud of posts that challenged me intellectually when I wrote them.

For example, I'm happy to be the second person to write about "Sleepminting." I'm proud of myself for discovering the connection of deontic and epistemic authority in financial and technical stakeholders ("On-chain, The Emperor Wears No Clothes"). And I feel accomplished thinking that I may have coined the concepts of "Technical Yield" and purposefully "Blowing up Scope."

Blogging has enriched my professional life, and although I sometimes have doubts about its purpose, I don't want to miss having my blog anymore. It's become almost like an investment in myself and I've managed to cash out on some of its benefits. That's great and so for 2022 and beyond, I hope to grow and get better acquainted with my audience too. This blog may grow.

Uniquely, writing is my second favorite creative process I've learned to enjoy besides coding. In fact, some days it's my favorite. So above all, being able to express me and my ideas through language, it being code, English, or German - I've come to realize as my biggest privilege. I love working with language, and so in the future, I'd be grateful to have the chance to expand my knowledge on this topic further.

To all my companions, I'm grateful to enjoy your company!