I’m much better at writing than real-life interaction

But looking at how rarely I write, you can only imagine how bad I am face to face.

Why the international postal system sucks

I’m gonna rant for a while here, too. Many of you have already had to read through my tweets this past week, so sorry if you don’t find any value in this post.

I’ve ordered many, many t-shirts from United Pixelworkers (RIP) and Cotton Bureau in the past two years. So many, in fact, I have to wash them separately from all my other clothes. And, until this February, everything was absolutely smooth. The packages arrived on time and nothing was ever lost. Please note: Cotton Bureau is not to blame here. Their products and customer service are the best in the industry.

Okay, so: the average tee I order costs around $28 these days. I pay around $14 for shipping. Yes, half of the price of the shirt. This is too much already, and when things don’t work as expected, I have a right to get mad at someone. The shipping comes with international tracking as a standard. And it works… if the package goes to the right place.

My last order was shipped on Feb 3rd from the US. (It features a beautiful design called Bucket Of Bolts.) Two weeks later (Feb 17th), I had received nothing. Tracking had the movement of the package in the US, but after shipping out of the States… nothing. My local postal service did not have anything else on record, either. So I kind of panicked. I wrote to the kind folks at Cotton Bureau to see if maybe the package was sent back to them or if they have some extra info. They didn’t have the shirt nor did USPS tell them that something was wrong.

The next morning, I woke up earlier than usual. I was feeling kind of down because my shirt was missing, so I grabbed my phone and started googling to find out what I should do. Somebody definitely had to have had dealt with this kind of a problem before.

Before I knew it, I had started entering my tracking code to random national postal services’ websites. First were the neighbours: Russia, Finland, Sweden, Latvia. Nothing. Then, for some reason, I chose Australia. Aaaaand… I got a hit. Turns out that my package had been in Tallinn on 6th Feb, but neither Omniva or USPS had that scan on record. I guess at that point I was very much like “What the fuck is going on?”, so I continued my investigation.

I contacted Australian Post on Twitter to see what they thought of it. (They were still awake at that point). They confirmed that the package with that tracking number had arrived in Australia on Feb 16th. Oh well. Maybe they can confirm or deny if that is actually my package, and, if it is, send it back to me. But no! Their customer service told me that they don’t have any info on the sender or on the recipient.

This makes no sense at all to me.

So I called my local postal service again, and this time I got on the line with someone who actually wanted to help me. I explained my case carefully, gave her the tracking code, and she went to consult with somebody in charge of international packages. They called me back in 10 minutes and told me that in the international database Australia was marked as the recipient country, while the package was supposed to be shipped through Estonia. And, since Estonia was not the recipient country, they had no access to the sender/recipient info. (Logical conclusion – if Australia was the recipient country, Austalian Post should have this info. They told me they don’t.)

This info actually helped: it means that the error was made beforehand, probably somewhere in USPS. Nobody in my country was trying to steal stuff from me, and it relaxed me a bit.

I’m still a bit amazed about this whole story. And I’m lucky to have totally randomly found that extra info about Australia.

So there seems to be an international database for those tracking codes, but the postal services are not allowed to give the customer the full info (I was told this.). Why? Well, that is the question. If my package is tracked, I want to know absolutely everthing that happens to it. Every. Little. Thing.

If somebody who reads this wants to disrupt the international postal system with some amazing start-up, let me know. I’d be happy to help.

PS. I hope I will get my tee at some point.

I’m alive

Don’t worry. I’m still here. I’m just not a very stable blogger.

There’s not much to talk about, either. Maybe tomorrow.

(I tell it to myself every day.)

I feel young again

But I also feel like a lost cause.

I think I know what love feels like. How else can someone give you all the energy, willpower you need for living by just existing? And, at the same time, sucking out all the air in the room when they enter, making you feel breathless?

There’s a quote from Person of Interest I found a while back:

When you find that one person who connects you to the world, you become someone different. Someone better. When that person’s taken from you, what do you become then?

That’s how I felt about a year and a half ago.

I connect with people based on trust. If I trust them, I can tell them how I feel, and vice versa. When that trust disappears, it’s not very likely to reappear.

A year and a half ago. She broke my trust. She left. Since then, people have been asking me “Are you ever going to talk to her again?”. But it’s not that simple. I can talk, but without trust, there’s not much to say. “She wants to make amends,” they say. It’s not that simple. I once gave her everything, everything I felt or dreamed about. When she left, she broke me. I might still be broken.

I don’t forgive easily, especially people who have made me feel like total garbage.

“No way,” I respond, and we continue to talk about the weather.

A year and a half ago, when she left, I gave up on love. I truly believed she was the one. But no, life taught me a lesson. Since then, I haven’t felt anything like it. I didn’t think I could.

Wandering around the city, maybe I’d find the right person. Maybe not. Probably not.

A few months ago, I met someone. To this day, we haven’t really talked, I have no idea what kind of person she really is. But she seems like a nice girl. I probably like the idea of her more than I’d like herself, but whatever.

I like that feeling.

No, I’m not going to tell her how I feel. I probably don’t have the guts to even go and talk to her. That’s because I’m scared. Scared of rejection, of defeat, of feeling broken again.

I’m searching for true love, I genuinely believe that exists.

That’s why I’m a lost cause. And I don’t give a shit.

It’s nice to feel something. It makes me feel young. It makes me feel like there’s something to struggle for.

Until I find Her, I’m going to live my life just like I have the past year. I love what I do, and I hope I will find someone to share it with.

This whole post is probably bollocks. Whatever. I’m drunk.

Behind

I hadn’t had a migraine for about a year. But today was different.

This and last week, I have fallen behind on my work schedule. No idea why, maybe I’m just burned out and need to recharge. But falling behind makes the burn-out even worse. Stress piles up, and I can’t sleep very well.

So today I had my first migraine headache in a year. I did not like it, you know.

These episodes are never easy for me. First, my vision starts to flicker in my left eye. I can’t see very well with my right eye, so that makes it practically impossible to work, push pixels, find that typo.

An our later, usually, the headache crashes in. I would rather bang my head against a wall than feel that pain again. Sometimes that headache does not go away for a day.

But today was easier.

I had just gotten to the office. I managed my way through the morning and lunch, but after that I just couldn’t. So I crashed our lovely couch in the basement, slept for a few hours, and I was okay again. My head still hurt, but it was bearable.

No medication.

Also, I really want a dog.

I’ve been living a lie

No, really.

This morning I received my copy of Mike Monteiro’s new book, You’re My Favorite Client. So I skipped work (sorry!) and read it.

It is amazing.

The book was written for clients, but I as a developer got so much out of it. If I don’t start making better work from this moment forward, I’m just plain stupid.

I’d quote the book, but I would have to retype the entire book. It’s pure gold. Read a preview on A List Apart, and then buy it.

Doing some good

Today I joined 795 other good people by giving a dollar a day to amazing nonprofits.

I don’t have free time to search for good nonprofits that would need my help. Dollar a Day does that job for me.

They have already featured so many great organizatons that I missed. ShelterBox, One Acre Fund, Girls Who Code, Alliance for Children’s rights, Water for People is just a selection of those.

Today’s nonprofit? Team Rubicon.

Team Rubicon is an organization that rapidly responds, on a global basis, to natural disasters by deploying first-response teams of highly skilled military veterans and medics. Not only does this provide a meaningful service opportunity for willing veterans — it brings the quickest possible relief to those in need.

Sounds awesome? It is. Join us, if you can. If you can’t, spread the word about Dollar a Day. It’s worth it.

Here I Am Again

I haven’t really given much thought to what I’m gonna write about. But I built this place for a reason.

I’ve grown to secretly hate Facebook. That’s no place for my thoughts, my secrets, my faves from the vast Internet.

And although I still love Twitter, 140 characters is nowhere near enough to rant about designers not doing their job properly, or write about why I love my job.

Google+ never really took off. I visit it a couple of times a month, but it’s strange. It seems I follow some strangers. I don’t know them. They probably don’t know me. None of my friends are there.

So, when Ello launched, I thought, this is it. But I never got an invite. I didn’t ask for one, either, but that’s beside the point.

Here I am. My own Ello. A journal for my most intimate thoughts and some wicked code snippets.

I hope you’ll come along for the ride.

P.S. I’m a shitty photographer. I use photos from Unsplash.