A friend asked me recently: “Why do you work? Like, beyond the money — what’s the actual reason?”
I didn’t have to think long. I want to make the world a little better before I go. That’s it.
It doesn’t have to be grand. Maybe it’s software that 20 people use but genuinely love. Maybe it’s something 10 million people use that saves each of them a second — invisible, but there. The form doesn’t matter much. What matters is that I spent my time here building things people find useful.
I think about medieval blacksmiths and tailors a lot. They didn’t agonize over their purpose or legacy. They woke up, worked on their craft, made things for their community, and went home. Day after day. The work was the point.
That’s how I see software engineering. It’s a craft. You get better at it slowly, through repetition and care. You build things that serve people. Some projects matter to three users. Some matters to millions. Both are worth doing well.
Why software, though? Because it’s one of the few crafts where you can play. Where there’s room for creativity and experimentation. Ten different solutions to the same problem, and you get to pick the one that feels right. It’s not just science. It’s art too.
That’s enough for me. I’m not chasing unicorns or trying to change the world. I’m trying to live a decent, peaceful life doing work I find meaningful — tinkering with technologies I find interesting, solving problems that need solving, being there for the people I care about.
The rest is just noise.
I revolve my life around what I produce for the world, the skills I develop to produce it, and getting better at the craft of building software. Not because I have to prove anything, but because this is what feels right. This is my way of being useful.
A blacksmith makes horseshoes. A tailor makes clothes. I make software.
The goal isn’t to be remembered. It’s to have been helpful.