There’s something about the passage of time that feels both inevitable and jarring. Days slip into weeks, weeks into months, and before you know it, years have gone by. For me, writing anything in this newsletter is a testament to that. The two-year gap between 2022 and 2024 is a glaring reminder of how often I’ve told myself, “I’ll write more,” only to let life get in the way. This article itself is a product of that cycle—an idea that’s been stuck in my mind, one I’ve been meaning to write but never quite found the right moment to sit down and do it.
What makes it even more challenging is that some ideas feel most powerful in the moment of conception. When emotions are raw and thoughts are crystal clear, I tell myself, “I need to write about this.” But by the time I sit down to write, the intensity has faded, and I worry the words won’t carry the same weight. I’ve always believed that to write something truly meaningful, I need to be immersed in the moment, letting the words flow naturally from experience rather than memory. It’s a struggle to capture the essence of a feeling once it’s passed.
Perhaps this stems from my deep desire to connect with readers on an emotional level. I want them to feel what I felt, to walk alongside me through my experiences, to understand not just my thoughts but the emotional landscape that shaped them. It’s not just about sharing information; it’s about creating a bridge between my experience and their understanding. That’s why I hold myself to such a high standard when I write—because I want the words to resonate, to matter.
Interestingly, everything I’ve written so far aligns perfectly with the title of this post, though from an unexpected angle. In 2025, I’m committed to returning to basics, to rediscovering the simplicity that existed before life grew complicated. This journey began unexpectedly when I picked up Writing High-Performance .NET Code, a book I purchased in 2022 but only recently started reading.
Reading this book has been a revelation. It reminded me of the joy I once felt when I first started programming. Back then, I wasn’t concerned with building the next big app or starting a business. I was fascinated by how computers worked, by the logic and systems that made them tick. I was a scientist at heart, driven by curiosity and a desire to understand.
Somewhere along the way, I lost sight of that. I got caught up in the hustle—starting a business, building an application, stressing over a thousand different things. I forgot why I started this journey in the first place. I forgot the joy that came from simply understanding how things worked. This realization made me reflect on something fundamental about myself: I’m a scientist, not an engineer. That’s why I chose computer science over software engineering in university. I’ve always been more interested in the why and how of things rather than the what. But the world often pushes us toward the what. It’s results-driven, focused on outcomes and deliverables. And in that push, I lost touch with the part of me that loved exploring, experimenting, and learning for the sake of learning.
Reading Writing High-Performance .NET Code has been a return to that mindset. It’s reminded me of the joy of diving deep into a topic, of understanding the intricacies of how something works. It’s reminded me that I don’t always have to be building something to be productive or successful. Sometimes, just learning and understanding is enough. For me, going back to the basics means reconnecting with the things that brought me joy in the first place. It means letting go of the pressure to constantly produce and instead focusing on the process. It means embracing curiosity and allowing myself to explore without a specific end goal in mind.
In 2025, I want to do more of that. I want to read more and learn more—not because I have to, but because I want to. I want to reconnect with the joy of understanding, the thrill of discovery, and the satisfaction of creating something meaningful. Going back to the basics isn’t about abandoning progress or ignoring the responsibilities of adulthood. It’s about finding balance. It’s about remembering why you started and allowing that to guide you forward.
So here’s to 2025—a year of rediscovery, reconnection, and returning to the basics. A year where I prioritize joy, curiosity, and the things that truly matter. A year where I remind myself that sometimes, the simplest things are the most profound.
But as I take these steps back to the basics, I find myself wondering—was this what I was searching for all along? Is this return to simplicity the alignment I’ve been hoping for?
Maybe alignment isn’t about grand breakthroughs or external validation. Maybe it’s about feeling at peace with where I am, about rediscovering what already made sense before the noise took over.
It’s still early in the year, and I don’t have all the answers yet. But if alignment means feeling grounded, feeling like things are falling into place, then maybe—just maybe—I’m already there.