4 hours ago · Life · 0 comments

Recently I’ve done a three part series building out an uncommon Commodore 64 motherboard and case combo, and posted twice about new tea stores in Sydney. I may have even been working on that aforementioned 8-bit computer while drinking a beverage from one of those establishments. I could have even written and saved a review for the drink, then transferred it to my desktop for publishing onto the site you’re currently engaged with reading. Now, is a word with three letters. I don’t consider myself smart. I’m at best harmess, and at worst middling. I’m brighter than some people, and others are sharper still. If intelligence were something we could define, quantify, measure, and plot (and yes, all of those constitute large ifs), I’d expect to be somewhere in the middle of whatever ill-conceived bell curve was generated as a result. Statistically, just like with most people. And honestly, I consider myself lucky. Here comes the proverbial posterior prognostication: but… I was expecting…

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