10am and on. Short time slices, few moments in between to switch thoughts, tools, mental clothes. From wrestling technology to sensing the mood of a call in what isn't being said. And ones own odd responses to written text, speficially the sound between the lines. Imposter raises its head, attracted, interested. Back to normal again.
10am and on. Timelines and items to place on these. Also: Uneven ground at best. And fragile terrain at worst. Paving ways, negotiating fences and delimiters. Slowly seeing clearer lines in fog. Pondering complexity costs of disruptions and the unaddressed yet disputable value of experience.
4pm and slowly on. Stuck between different lines of communication again. Flooded with way too much knowledge to come up with an unbiased decision. And also struggling hard to keep gut feelings out of the way of these. Whenever complexity is reduced too much without honouring, important aspects are lost no matter whether it's about ending up with words or numbers.
(Elsewhere: Communities, but like a living organism. With all that of its side effects. Digging through inherited knowledge. Not finding the entry points needed to proceed. Too often, guilty of losing track. Too often, too, guilty of explaining where listening should be top priority. More coffee, always afterwards.)
Closing in on 9am. Preparations, too: Collecting information from too many sources: System details, change history, resolved issues, resolved ones. Trying to make sense of what they have in common, ignoring contradictions for now. The challenges of the factual will arise soon enough anyway. Hoping for patterns to emerge and for the imposter to stay reasonably quiet.