Every Friday anew, when friends ask me what I’ll be doing this weekend, I say nothing. With the intention to unwind, process the prior week and just be. Gathering strength and momentum for the next 4 days of work and life.

At least, that’s the ideal. It almost never happens. I make time to sit in stillness or go for a walk, but that is rather the exception. Although I’d like for it to be radically different, what I mostly do is consuming.

Videos, movies, music, magazines, books, podcasts—you name it. The list is nearly endless. Browsing a magazine induces more calm to me than watching hours of YouTube playback, but they all have something in common: stimulation. There’s no balance between input and output. Either feels too much, or too little.

Anton today sent a new episode of Ultimate Calm with Ólafur Arnalds. He is one of my favourite musicians and composers, and besides his brilliant music, I find his voice, marked by a lovely Icelandic accent, equally soothing. I seized the opportunity, pulling out my yoga mat and sitting down to enjoy an hour of sound bath.

It really stroke my soul, and helped me realise how little changes in posture or place can bring out a bit of my inner monk. I suck at meditation, but it does not keep me from returning to it. And when I do, a little bit of nothing passes through me. A moment. Clarity. Now.

With origins in web development, Swift and SwiftUI have always felt awfully hard to me. The overwhelming size of Xcode with all its bells and whistles, different structures and workflows are merely the start of an extensive list. But, I have decided to take another cold plunge.

Today, I enrolled in the Apple Developer Program. It felt like a greater commitment than just another unfinished Xcode project. And, with the help of Claude, I managed to distribute the first build of the “Saman Archive” app to TestFlight.

With very limited functionality, it is able to display the latest posts from the Archive and, in a modal view, a new entry with limited data inputs can be created. It’s far from greatness, and even further from apps like Family, Thoughts, Unhinged or Reeder. But everyone has to start somewhere.

So, this will be my playground for the foreseeable future, and I might document failures and insights sporadically on this site.

I’ve been intensely thinking about how and what I can write for this site and, in the process, have failed to write anything at all. So I decided to write about this problem precisely.

For me, it is a mixture of circumstances which hold me back. Lack of time, demands of myself on quality and distinctiveness, and the (small) range of qualifying topics.

Especially hard seems the point of producing something that is genuinely of value. To come up with something never known to humankind. Silly. Most of all things have, logically, been said before. In one way or the other.

What recently opened my eyes to a new horizon was an issue of Matt D’Avella’s newsletter and his advice to a subscriber.

It gave me hope to achieve something worthwhile—even if most of its point isn’t all so new.

There are many things that make sense in one scenario and fail terribly in another. And it’s not a pattern to only exist in design or UX.

As a child, we might have had a parent screaming at us every now and then, and to escape these situations, we just sat in silence to avoid fuelling the rage. Later in life, in other, perhaps calmer discussions, we still can’t speak a word—although our views might be highly welcomed—because we still carry the fear of our younger self inside us.

These behaviours were once useful, but are now obsolete and require an update.

We can apply this same thinking to problems design people are confronted with.

There are libraries out there, being sold in the belief that it will help build faster. To have a preset of components to use. And we have once build one ourselves at Studio Lenzing—without using it ever again.

My point here being: a profound awareness of the context you’re operating in is crucial to understand specific needs and realise, that there is no one size fits all.

It’s common for people to admire those who are good with words. Who choose their words wisely, find astonishing ways to frame things and speak words you have never heard of before.

I’ve been labeled as such a person before. And I like to experiment with language and expressions. But this skill gave me one ability I am not very fond of.

Being so good with twisting words, it becomes easy to find excuses and to push truths to the edge, dangerously close to becoming lies. Not deliberately but out of routine.

Ask me how I’m doing and you will be served a perfectly laid out answer that leaves no room to doubt its validity. I want to be honest, but the truth becomes unbearable when denied for too long. And before I can start to think consciously of a reply, I’ve said it already.

I’m in my bed, listening to music, my room’s window slightly tilted open. Lost in my thoughts, I hear a bell. Very distant but penetrant it sounds. A few moments I wonder where I’ve heard it before. “Of course,” it hits me, “it’s the ice cream truck.”

Today marks the middle of March, and temperatures are steadily rising. I missed it. Just like one book I have, I’m going to miss you. It’s about the summer. And I do miss it, the lightness of it all and the warmth on the tip of my nose. 

The bell has stopped ringing by now. “They probably stopped to sell a few scoops of ice cream.” I usually don’t eat ice cream until June, or so, when I feel warm enough for its cold not to bother me. 

I smile when I think about that moment. It will taste phenomenal, like spring and summer and love and a big hug, my favourite song and peace. For now though, I will listen to the Bells of Spring. Announcing its arrival. Giving me Hope. Something to hold onto. 

Restlessly, I am lounging on the couch. I sit still, but my insides are rumouring. A habit I have formed early in my life (although my life itself is very much in its early stage) which urges me to do something. Anything. It gets as absurd as getting up, walking to the window only to return to my place in a blink of the eye. 

“Hands, Be Still,” I think, reciting a song from Ólafur Arnalds’ “For Now I Am Winter” album. Busyness and productivity have made me a spinning top, a victim to their force and ideology in which they are advertised.

When I plan on having a quiet day, I truly need to force myself to just sit and be. To let this feeling of stress, jitteriness, almost imploding come over me—pass through me. And then: nothing. 

As the tension in my muscles vanishes, I can slowly feel how I become calmer. How I find it easier to let thoughts come to me and to deal with them without worrying too much. 

I like to think of this process as befriending a stray dog. In the beginning, they won’t even look at you. They shiver, withdraw the closer you get, afraid you will hurt them. And there is absolutely nothing you can do but wait.

With time, they might take a bite to eat from the floor, then from your open hand. They seem to relax and gain a sense of trust. Finally they start letting you pet them. Slowly and only for a short time before they increase distance once more.

It can be a tiring process, but worth it in the end. When they lay on your lap, soothingly snoring with peace of mind. 

And what I think of as my stray dog, is my heart. How much would I give to take it out my chest, and wrap my arms around it. Stroke it a little. Tell it everything will be okej eventually. 

I find it fascinating how much we split ourselves apart. How we describe what we like with small tags under our profile pictures. All the roles we invented to categorise what we do, to build our identities around work. The labels we put on us for liking who we like. I could go on endlessly, but my point is: we break up ourselves in parts so each can fit in.

What about the rest? What about that shy little kid who loved to lay in the grass and look up at the clouds for hours counting? Or the one writing poems in the back of their notebooks. The one taking photos nonstop until there was not one stone left to capture.

We compromise so much of us, eliminating the whole of what we actually are. A person. A human. A soul wrapped in skin. Innocent children who simply want to play.

Why do I root my worth more in the opinion of an online-stranger than in affirmations of my closest friends? I am so scared to talk to someone about how I sincerely feel. It’s almost like I’ve forgotten how to. And yet, I yearn to feel nervous about it. To touch into all emotions right before I pour out my heart.

Genuine human connection. We all crave it. But we don’t know how to form it. Vulnerability, rawness, tears, hugs, poems, art, letters—that’s what I want more of. Need more of. To see each other as whole, as an individual life intertwined with ours if we choose to care enough.

Online reading personally always felt painful—annoying advertisements, affiliate links, different layouts and typography on each page. Then, keeping together various sources was the next problem. Until not long ago, I was stuck with multiple lists of pages I had collected, newsletters, channels, profiles—you name it.

A recent client project forced me to build an RSS feed, and to debug, I decided on Feedbin I had tested the platform before, but refused to pay after the end of the trial (before putting my digital well-being above monetary resources).

For the time being, I am very content with both the collection of sources, as well as how they’re being fetched and displayed. However, I quickly noticed how many sites lack a (properly formatted) RSS feed.

Either information is incomplete at most, or there is no feed in the first place. This is to say, to anyone (in)frequently publishing online: create an RSS feed and optimise it—everyone (me) will be forever thankful.

As an introvert, it is an unusual deed to message random people on Twitter (or any platform) and ask for a coffee date. Specifically so, when there is no evidence for a positive outcome of these meetings, and you might put yourself at risk. But: you won’t know until you try.

After meeting Benjamin in 2019, I started to list a few people I’d like to get to know. Those were mostly designers based in Germany from whom I hoped to get input on my path after graduation (spoiler: I decided to not study anything).

I have now met plenty of great people in person who I originally contacted online, even from other countries. With many I nurture occasional contact, but some have become very close friends.

The Internet™ is an extremely powerful tool to build connections—but it is of unmeasurable value when these connections turn into fruitful friendships to guide you and inspire growth; To allow you to spend life with people who give you perspective, emotional support, memories, a feeling of belonging, and—most importantly—love.

I am thankful for everyone I’ve met, and look forward to joining more adventures. If, for any reason, you want to meet, I’m happy to hear from you.

How do you know
If you’ve done everything right?
Is it the love you have at hand
Or the cash you kiss at night?

How do you know
If it was worth it in the end?
Did every second really count
Or were there some you shouldn’t spend
On anything but anyone you love?
Was this the life that you were dreaming of?
A movie night, a yellow light
You’re slowing down and days are adding up

So don’t waste the time you have waiting for time to pass
It’s only a lifetime
That’s only a while
It’s not worth the anger you felt as a child
Don’t waste the time you have waiting for time to pass
It’s only a lifetime
That’s not long enough
You’re not gonna like it without any love
So don't waste it

I’m unimpressed
By the people preaching pain
For the sake of some small gain
In the sake of someone’s name

I’m unprepared
For my loved ones to be gone
Call them way too often now
Worry way too much about mom
Don’t waste the time you have waiting for time to pass

It’s only a lifetime
That’s only a while
It’s not worth the anger you felt as a child
Don’t waste the time you have waiting for time to pass
It’s only a lifetime
That’s not long enough
You’re not gonna like it without any love
So don’t waste it

It’s family and friends, and that’s the truth
The fountain doesn’t give you back your youth
It’s staying up too late at night and laughing under kitchen lights
So hard you start to cry

Don’t waste the time you have waiting for time to pass
It’s only a lifetime
That's not long enough
You’re not gonna like it without any love
So don’t waste it

Lyrics by Finneas O'Connell

Long ago in a small, far away village, there was place known as the House of 1000 Mirrors.

A small, happy little dog learned of this place and decided to visit. When he arrived, he bounced happily up the stairs to the doorway of the house. He looked through the doorway with his ears lifted high and his tail wagging as fast as it could. To his great surprise, he found himself staring at 1000 other happy little dogs with their tails wagging just as fast as his. He smiled a great smile, and was answered with 1000 great smiles just as warm and friendly. As he left the House, he thought to himself, “This is a wonderful place. I will come back and visit it often.”

In this same village, another little dog, who was not quite as happy as the first one, decided to visit the house. He slowly climbed the stairs and hung his head low as he looked into the door. When he saw the 1000 unfriendly looking dogs staring back at him, he growled at them and was horrified to see 1000 little dogs growling back at him. As he left, he thought to himself, “That is a horrible place, and I will never go back there again.”

All the faces in the world are mirrors. What kind of reflections do you see in the faces of the people you meet?

Japanese Folktale (Author unknown)

The time of the year again for large companies to tint their logo in rainbow colours. A painful reminder that diversity and inclusivity are usually just hollow words instead of an ambition for betterment.

Though I am deeply grateful for my supportive peers, it is equally saddening to see how people suffer from the narrow-mindedness of so many others. All the looks, the bullies, and disrespectful comments I have experienced have made me stronger—yet leave marks that will accompany me forever.

Having to look around you before kissing your partner in public or holding hands in fear of confrontation are the most basic habits of queer people. Everything to protect each other while compromising on the perhaps biggest deed of human kind: love.

I am proud to be queer, but I wish for a world where it didn’t matter that I am.

I wrote an article about coming out. It’s in German, but I think technology is advanced enough to translate it. Read it here.

Despite the amount of times a person tells you they love you or they’ll be there for you—if these words don’t match their actions, their behaviour is closer to manipulation than anything else.

As we tend to believe in the best in every person, especially those we feel something for, it might be hard to accept that some people take more than we can offer in the long term.

I like to see “love” mainly as a verb. The constant commitment to another individual and their needs, nurturing both lives equally to protect solitude, sanity, and provide a space for growth.

Given the understanding of what a healthy love is, the best indicator to detect betrayal is your gut’s feeling. If it feels right, go with it—if something seems off, it probably is.

Kudos to Valentin for the incredible work on this typeface. The overall brutalist yet very accessible character resonated most, especially since my field of taste in fonts is very narrow.

I don’t believe in the idea of dating apps. Frankly, I think it has created an irritable sense of what love is, and how to find it.

Rarely do we make an effort nowadays to truly get to know a person. We are on the lookout for red flags and, once we reach our threshold, we move on to the next person—without understanding why a person has certain characteristics, where their anxieties come from. What lies buried deep inside under old debris hardly sees the light of day because few do the work to dig for it.

To be fair: it’s scary. Opening up is so frightening that locking emotional baggage away is the easier solution. At least temporarily. But forming true connection requires us to let down our guards and invite people to the depths of ourselves.

We are ever so keen to elevate our lives to an extent that most likely will never be reached. This might be motivating for some—others may end up devastated. The latter commonly exists as the result of adopting external expectations and ideas on a purposeful life.

As Anton rightly says, life is unpredictable. Consequently, the biggest task in one’s life is balancing spontaneity and a sensible prospective.

The persistent connectivity with the rest of the world currently available stands against our nature. A nature of solitude, a lot of time spent outside, and much less interaction with others. Especially, when it comes to interchange only for the sake of entertainment or distraction.

People used to live without phones, without instant messaging, and still led a purposeful and rewarding life. It is, to an extent, imaginable that their lives were actually much more fruitful than a lot of the current ones appear to be.

Given a larger availability of disconnectedness, writing and receiving letters was the only reasonable form of (long-distance) communication. The first occurrence of this type of communication is tracked back to 500 BC, which is an incredible span.

In the past, their main purpose was to “send information, news and greetings. For some, letters were a way to practice critical reading, self-expressive writing, polemical writing and also exchange ideas with like-minded others” (wikipedia.org), which I find intriguing and inspiring on the one hand, and saddening to hear within our times on the other.

A letter’s greatest benefit is the concept of asynchronous communication. Nobody expects the other person to respond within a few hours, even days. Partly because it’s impossible to realize logistically, but moreover because the approach of mindfully drafting a letter and taking time to formulate properly is what made it so approachable.

As with most things, quality stands above quantity. And finding a letter in my mailbox still fills me with great joy every time. Eventually, the other person’s handwriting adds another layer of personality.

It's a lovely way of letting someone know you thought of them and how much you care for them.

I feel the urge to sit with someone far out the city and away from all busyness. In a place that is only equipped with only essentials for humane survival. Letting go of all must-haves and could-haves to focus on counting blessings and nurturing gratitude for what the universe has provided us with.

Most importantly just existing there, feeling the breeze wavering over your skin and cultivating a sense of being and belonging. Creating external peace to allow yourself to find inner serenity, too. Letting the mind wander, allowing thoughts to come and go. Perhaps randomly breaking out into tears because we are no longer distracted.

And at the same time—after remembering there is somebody else with you—also exchanging thoughts with them, sharing how you feel and letting them see your authentic self. Dwelling ideas, trying desperately to make sense of this life and its hidden meaning—only to snap back into reality, noticing the other person and how grateful you are for sharing such vulnerable and intimate moment with them.

I struggled with this for years, indeed. It was a time when I was fascinated with hand-lettering. Drawing letters, instead of simply writing them.

On the lookout for inspiration, I became more and more frustrated. Why is everyone else so much better? What can’t I do what they do? It took its sweet time for me to get past this urge to compare and wanting to do what they do. Eventually, I found my own style I was content with.

Looking back, I believe this gap is actually a very helpful asset. It helps asses whether the work you created lives up to your standards, to where you want it to be. If it does not—well, time to get your fingers dirty once more.

For years I struggled in school and even regular conversations. Forming a proper response takes time and I find that I regret most of my immediate reactions.

In most cases, it hasn’t been an issue to step back and give things some thought. Hitting the brakes on a crossroad until having a proper overview of the situation, however, does not work. Hence, it can become a hindrance in situations where quick reactions are necessary.

In any way, reading this article gave me a sense of comfort, and made me feel understood. It’s always great to know you’re not alone.

Through the course of this year, but especially in the very small moments, I realised over and over again how, incredibly important friends are.

Whenever I needed someone to talk to, there were people to reach out to and they welcomed every emotion, every tear, or laugh. And this is something we need to tell each other way more often, and then act on it. Just listening to each other can change lives and save someone from drowning in their worries. Without judgement, simply reaching out a hand.

Tomorrow is the last day of this year. It was definitely a challenging one for me, especially mentally and emotionally. Of course, I was able to experience incredible things, was surrounded by pure people and got to see wonderful places. And yes, I am grateful for everything, even the bad moments of grief, sadness, loneliness, and hopelessness.

But they, just as much, withheld me from being fully present and treating the positive moments how they deserve to be treated. Realising this really threw me off sometimes. And I wish I had faced my grief and every ounce of pain right when they emerged, but I didn’t, so they bounced back with 10x their power. I still have days where I don’t know where to go or if I wanna be here any longer.

But I know much better. Life is beautiful, even the deepest pain is. Because without the bad, there’s no good. I am trying to see this year in the most positive way, holding all lessons dearly close, so that 2023 can become a year of more smiles, hugs, telling people I love them and actually meaning it. Bonding stronger, being awkwardly weird and myself.

Making people feel loved. That’s what I want to do. Not at my own expense, but so much that whoever is important to me knows it without second thought.

Being alive is absolutely insane. There’s so much happening, so many thoughts to think and entities to love. It’s the easiest and at the same time hardest thing to do—unexplainable and yet we’re loving every day and all the time.

If I’m being honest, love has ruined most of this year for me, while also making small bits of it unexpectedly amazing. Rejection means redirection and I feel like that’s the path I’m currently on. A little lost, feeling left alone, but somehow trusting the process and trying to make the most of it.

I am utterly thankful for everyone who still gave me hugs, listened to my nonsense, forgave me. Everyone who stayed while having every reason to leave. Being aware of things with such a cluttered mind is quite hard sometimes and some days simply leaving the warmth of my bed was an enormous effort.

I figure sharing this is a way of telling myself that I am proud of myself and that everyone else who is struggling can be proud of themselves too.

Another thing, not making it all particularly easier, is the numbness of my feelings that I’ve experienced for quite some time now. Equally happy and sad emotions are nothing more than distantly present. Just like everything is fundamentally irrelevant and I just don’t care.

My therapist mentioned that feelings give life its meaning and that resonated a lot. It explains why I recently miss a lot of motivation for work (so I am lucky to have amazing teammates who make everything a bit more bearable) or school (with all my awesome friends) who lighten up my days a little. This state has become default which can turn quite dangerous. I hope it’ll pass, without knowing how to handle it.

I’ve been told to be more myself again, but I kinda lost that self on the way. It’s almost like factory-resetting a phone: everything is gone, much applicationable knowledge is missing. I don’t know who I am, what my strengths are, how to be there for myself and others, or how love works (in case I ever really knew).

All that’s left is an aching heart and a mind that is empty and overflowing at the same time, so I am happy to be able to write all of this down right now.

And this is certainly not begging for attention (even though I can’t say I don’t enjoy it) but rather to tell that it’s okay to be sad and heartbroken and most importantly: that this is all a part of life; “a heart that is broken is a heart that’s been loved” and healing is not a linear process.

I’m an adult now. A strange feeling, I admit.

For quite some time, I’ve been looking forward to this day. Many people told me that it’s not as special, but adding +1 to my years lived means more to me.

I always enjoyed being independent and going my own ways—doing what I think is right. Other perspectives are important, but eventually deciding on my own is what makes me feel free. And these decisions go far beyond being able to pick every drink from the menu now.

Call me naive, but curiosity and knowing so little about life helps me move forward and explore the unknown. It’s scary—which is the most intriguing part of it all. I might stumble and hit rock-bottom, but that’s also how I learn to get up and try again.

I want to build things, do purposeful work, spend time with friends and family, get lost in music, and wander through nature—whatever makes this earth a better place and creates a peaceful life. It’s not about trophies, or any form of admiration.

I am of firm conviction that we’re all born completely and fully ourselves as we can be. With the course of our lifetime, while being judged by others, trying to fulfil someone’s expectations, and morphing into what we think our part in society is, we get lost.

We lose our innocence, the undoubted trust we had in ourselves when we were a kid. We start to question whether we are enough or worthy of love. This part is to remind myself that I’m proud of me and how far I’ve come.

Lastly, here’s to all the great people in my life. You’ve helped me overcome many struggles, spoiled me with (tough) love, and showed me why I wake up every day, trying to be the best person I can be.

Some will leave, some will come. I learned that holding on sometimes hurts more than letting go, and you should rather embrace time spent together than worry that it might not stay the same forever.

It’s been an incredible year and I am thankful for every experience. As of now, I want to focus on myself and reappraise what has happened, as well as looking forward and building independence for the days to come.

Only to support my biggest and perhaps most ambitious aim: to be a positive influence in some people’s lives. Not for them to notice, but for them to feel—because there’s a difference.

Thanks for being with me.

Love, Linus