Posters, Printers, and People Who Overshare
The radio parts for my customer are now stuck in Australian customs. I’m not even surprised. Classic FedEx — or as I’ve been calling them lately, Fed-Up-with-Excessive-routing. It’s almost like they’re running a sightseeing tour for parcels. Turkey to Germany to Singapore to Australia to across Australia… and now it just sits. Probably enjoying the view while I sit here refreshing the tracking page like a madman. Ah, logistics.
Anyway — five days left until school starts again, and weirdly, I’m kind of missing science class. It wasn’t particularly exciting on paper, but it ended up being one of the most chaotic and memorable parts of the term. We got away with so much — like the time someone splashed a tiny amount of 0.1M hydrochloric acid onto someone else’s hand and called it a “fight.” I mean, sure, maybe it technically crossed the line, but what’s a little acid banter between friends?
And then there was the relentless talking, the game playing, the wildly inappropriate jokes our teacher somehow let slide. It was boring and slow, and most of the class never knew what was going on (the other few being those who knew much more than the teacher), but I’ll remember it forever. Not because of the experiments — but because of the people in the room.
The Prusa is still majestic. I won’t go on (apparently I talk about it too much), but just know: it’s sitting there in the corner, silently judging me for not printing with ABS yet. I’m drying out my PETG on the Ender’s heated bed, with a filament box acting like a little hot house. It’s probably not the best method, but it works, and it makes me feel like I’m doing science.
This week I’ve vowed to do what normal people do — like leave the house and talk to people I actually enjoy seeing. In person. Not through a screen. Wild concept, I know. The only flaw in the plan is that I haven’t made any actual plans, so odds are I’ll just end up getting “accidentally” pulled back into printing things I don’t need. Again. But no, not this time. Maybe.
And then, because life is never short on comedy, I see the Model UN Couple™ still going strong. The guy’s asked the girl to ball with a poster and a second-hand soft toy. Maybe it’s ironic. Or romantic. Or something. I say that like I don’t spend money on old Hot Wheels online, but Jellycats do have the same oddly specific collector’s energy. Still, at about $60 per plushie? Times two? You could have something truly useful for $120. Like… 120 cans of Coke. Or 6 rolls of 3D printer filament.
They’ve got this whole thing where it’s like every spare second has to be shared, every moment posted, every breath synchronised, like if they’re not actively in each other’s presence 24/7 the world might collapse.
I do just about the opposite. I disappear into whatever project I’ve got spread across the garage floor, she disappears into whatever her version of chaos is, and we check in when we can. We don’t force time together; it just happens when it’s meant to. No pressure, no performative updates, no need to prove anything to anyone. There’s room to be people first — which, frankly, feels a lot more sustainable than cuddling a $60 Jellycat every five minutes like it’s a personality trait.
They’re probably fine people, to be honest. I just think their relationship is objectively funny — it’s all moving at warp speed and somehow feels like it’s been running on borrowed time since day one. One of those setups where, when it inevitably combusts, he’ll be tragically heartbroken for months and she’ll have a new boyfriend before he’s even untagged their photos. I wish them well. But I’ve seen this film before, and it’s usually soundtracked by a moody acoustic cover of a pop song.
That’s all for now. If you need me, I’ll be doing absolutely nothing, pretending I’m going outside tomorrow.
73,
Daniel