Or: Why This Site Exists, and Why Now
I built this site because I got tired of waiting.
Tired of waiting until I had more time. Tired of waiting until the books were more polished, the coffee brand more established, the podcast more professional, the SaaS offering actually finished. Tired of waiting until I felt like I had permission to take up space on the internet as something other than an IT professional with a LinkedIn profile and carefully managed opinions.
Here’s the thing nobody tells you about being a certain kind of person — the kind who writes books and makes coffee and hosts a podcast about 78rpm records and self-hosts his own email server and curls on Thursday nights — is that the world keeps asking you to pick one. Pick the thing you are. Put it in a title. Make it your brand. Stop being so much.
I’ve spent a long time being conservative about all of it. Careful. Professional. Palatable.
I’m done with that. Mostly.
There’s a caveat, because there’s always a caveat: I still have a day job. IT, which I’m genuinely good at and genuinely care about, even if it wasn’t supposed to be the whole story. It’s paying the bills while the rest of this figures itself out. So this site has to work hard — it’s part author platform, part professional CV, part evidence that a person can contain multitudes without combusting.
But within those constraints, this — The Dispatch, the books, the coffee, the podcast, all of it — is me deciding to stop hiding the good stuff.
There are two books out. More are coming, because apparently I cannot sit still. There’s a newsletter called Shenanigans, which tells you everything you need to know about the tone of this operation. There’s coffee with actual convictions attached to it. There’s a blog about vintage entertainment that I started because someone had to.
And now there’s this. A dispatch from the uncaring world, written by a misplaced Canadian in Delaware who has too many clocks and not enough hours and has finally, finally decided that’s not a reason to wait anymore.
Welcome. Pull up a chair. The coffee’s on.
— Victor
