Do you know the feeling when one particular day seems endless—but then the year passes in a flash?
—Gretchen Rubin
I blinked my eyes and in an instant, decades had passed.
—John Mark Green
The seconds tick.
The minutes stretch.
The hours linger.
The days drift.
The weeks wander.
The months meander.
The years race.
The decades rush.
The centuries fly.
A lifetime disappears.1
Per my about page, White Noise is a work of experimentation. I view it as a sort of thinking aloud, a stress testing of my nascent ideas. Through it, I hope to sharpen my opinions against the whetstone of other people’s feedback, commentary, and input.
If you want to discuss any of the ideas or musings mentioned above or have any books, papers, or links that you think would be interesting to share on a future edition of White Noise, please reach out to me by replying to this email or following me on Twitter X.
With sincere gratitude,
Tom
In the brief time it took you to read this, roughly 100 people died. What will you do with your remaining days?