The Myth of Future-Proofing and the Cost of Curiosity
People love talking about “future-proofing.” Get the latest and greatest hardware, max out the specs, and you’ll be set for years—at least, that’s the idea. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned from tinkering with tech, it’s that future-proofing is a bit of a myth. Everything gets old, and nothing stays cutting-edge forever. But that doesn’t mean it stops being useful.
A lot of my most interesting projects—whether it’s learning sysadmin skills, 3D printing, or experimenting with Linux—aren’t happening on brand-new, high-end machines. They’re happening on hardware that’s been around for years. My ThinkPad T470? Built like a tank and still kicking. My cluster of Raspberry Pi’s? Not the fastest things in the world, but perfect for learning networking and running containers. The secret to making progress isn’t having the latest gear—it’s knowing how to make the best of what you’ve got.
And then there’s the cost of curiosity. Most of my projects start with a simple thought: “I wonder if this will work.” That’s how I ended up etching old copper laminate boards, repurposing salvaged electronics, and trying to get WSL to behave (questionable success there). Sometimes curiosity pays off in a useful skill. Other times, it costs hours of frustration, but even then, the process is part of the fun.
Of course, not everything can be salvaged. Some things should be replaced, whether it’s an aging laptop battery that won’t hold a charge or ideas that have outlived their practicality. But knowing when to let something go and when to keep refining it—that’s the real trick. And maybe that applies to more than just hardware.
She said something a while ago that stuck with me—something about how we’re all just figuring things out as we go. Not everything needs to have a perfectly clear plan from the start, and not everything has to be set in stone. Sometimes, it’s okay to work with what you’ve got and let things develop naturally, whether it’s an old computer, a new skill, or the way life itself unfolds.
Maybe that’s why I enjoy these projects so much. Every new skill I pick up feels like an investment in my future. But the beauty of it is that I’m not just doing it for “someday.” There’s joy in the present, in the experimenting, and in the small victories along the way. Turning a stack of old laminate into something meaningful is its own reward. And sure, maybe I’ll upgrade my setup someday—better tools, better hardware, a CNC machine. But for now? What I have is enough.
Because in the end, the best tool isn’t the newest one—it’s the one you actually use. And the best plans aren’t the ones set in stone, but the ones that leave room to grow.