❤️ of Clojure 2024

(IT'S OKAY)

It’s been a while. A long while, in fact: almost two years since the last post. I’d started considering handwritten.blog one of those projects of mine that, after the initial buzz, have either come to nought or half a page of scribbled lines; I received a “DOMAIN EXPIRES SOON” email just today. And I almost wrote it off.

But then I remembered one of the insights from Heart of Clojure that really resonated with me (shared by Lu Wilson):

NORMALIZE SHARING SCRAPPY FIDDLES

I’d add: in a scrappy way. My drawing skills are even more mediocre than my penmanship; but so what? This is my blog and I won’t hesitate to put my thoughts here, however imperfect they might be, complete with post titles containing characters not found in Unicode. Because it’s okay.

To the question “Why share?” Lu offers no explicit answer, but to them it seems to be about relationships. Forming them; nurturing them. Your code, your thoughts (code is a means of expressing thoughts) — might matter to people you have never met, impact them in ways you could never have imagined. However scrappy it might be. And that’s okay.

Lu goes by the mantra “new thing every day; new update every week”. To me, this is superhuman-level productivity and perseverance; I could hardly imagine myself maintaining it over extended period of time. I am impressed. In awe, even. I haven’t touched some of my pet projects in years. But maybe I should stop viewing it through the lens of productivity, and start instead admiring the radicality of openness that might achieve?

I think back to my former self, from before I learned about my ADHD and neurodivergence. I used to worry about productivity a lot more back then. These days, I instead choose to accept myself as I am. It’s okay to feel tired. It’s okay to not write anything in my notebook for a month. Or on my blog for two years. And it’s okay — more than okay — it’s awesome to attend a conference that reminds me so poignantly of the sheer joy of making and sharing things!

I also can’t help thinking about Rich Hickey himself — how, before opening Clojure to the world, he spent two years developing it in private and perfecting the ideas behind it in the seclusion of his hammock. And you know what? It’s okay. Some of us need that privacy; some of us thrive in the open. The world needs Richs just as much as it needs Lus. And me. And you.

It’s also okay to feel overwhelmed sometimes. I felt that way throughout most of HoC, because there was so much to do, to take in, so many wonderful people to talk to, that it couldn’t possibly all fit. I got to meet my team — an amazing feat given how geographically dispersed we are; Liya, Gigi, Liam, y’all rock! — and we hung out together quite a lot, so I had fewer opportunities to talk to strangers. And I’m happy. It was a great opportunity to practice JOMO (joy of missing out) over FOMO. It’s okay. It happens all the time.

There were a lot of highlights to HoC, and I can’t list them all here. Just to mention a few: Jeaye’s exquisitely-delivered tale of Jank, which made me want to dust off my C++ in order to contribute; Lovro and Sung-Shik’s talk about Klor, which made me want to try out a whole new programming paradigm; Nikita’s HumbleUI workshop, which reminded me of how many stale pet projects of mine yearn for a clean UI that doesn’t depend on the browser.

And, of course, beer, chocolate, and Leuven’s perfect balance of bustling vs. tranquil.

I was sorry to leave, but here I am, back to everyday life, back to my local café where I finish this post, watching as summer gives way to autumn outside. And even though I am a summer person, it’s okay.