For a long time, I thought I was going mad. Not in the dramatic sense, but in that quiet, nagging way when you ask yourself: Why am I spending weeks obsessing over systems and workflows that nobody else even sees?
A recent example: I spent the better part of a week—and more than a few sleepless nights—backing up my photo and video archive onto two massive 18TB Ultrastar drives. I had three MacBooks running almost constantly, shuffling terabytes from disk to disk, almost like comically oversized SD cards. When it was finally “done,” I wasn’t satisfied, I wanted certainty. So, I hashed hundreds of thousands of files, comparing checksums one by one, just to know for sure that every pixel was preserved.
It felt absurd.
Who does this? Who spends nights making their archive as solid as the Smithsonian’s or the underground seed vault in Svalbard? For what? Nobody was watching. Nobody was paying me. Nobody would ever know.
For years, this is how I lived: learning systems, tinkering with tools, documenting, archiving, writing, managing servers, obsessing over workflows. I taught myself how to program, write quite complex EU funding applications, an instrument to play and a foreign language or two.
Those years weren’t wasted — they were an apprenticeship.
Meanwhile, I often felt like I had nothing to show for it. My friends could point to careers, titles, or finished houses. I had “just” skills, scattered across way too many domains. But here’s what I’ve come to see: those years weren’t wasted — they were an apprenticeship.
The Long Apprenticeship
When you’re in it, endless preparation feels like stalling. Like life is happening to everyone else while you’re still sharpening your pencils. But in hindsight, preparation is the soil where mastery grows.
Think about it:
- The obsessive backup project wasn’t just about disks; it was about discipline, thoroughness, and building trust in my own process.
- Years of fiddling with WordPress, Docusaurus, or Obsidian weren’t dead ends; they trained me to publish fast, structure ideas, and handle digital complexity.
- Countless hours of photography and video editing weren’t “hobbies that went nowhere”; they gave me the confidence to film, and tell stories now.
On their own, these looked like scattered obsessions. Together, they form a toolkit I can now apply to projects that actually matter, whether it’s a house build, a woodworking series, or making online content.
It took me 45 years to realize: I wasn’t wasting time, I was training.
When It Clicks
The shift happens when preparation finds its purpose. For me, it’s woodworking and storytelling.
I can now set up a custom domain, launch a fully functional website and publish 20 polished articles pulled from my notes, within weeks. I can structure a video episode, film it efficiently, present on camera and edit. I can apply for funding, and make the paperwork work for me.
That’s the apprenticeship finally paying dividends.
Maybe for you it’s not woodworking. Maybe it’s cooking, parenting, coding, or running. Whatever the field, if you’ve been “preparing forever,” building systems nobody else understands, learning skills that seem impractical—there will come a moment when it all converges.
The Seed Vault Metaphor
Think back to that archive I built: two drives, hundreds of thousands of files, hashed and verified. At the time, it looked ridiculous, but now I see it as a metaphor. Once I’m gone, and turn to dirt, my family will have perfectly preserved memories of THEIR lives, in the best quality possible, ready to watch, publish, print.
We’re all building our own seed vault. Every odd skill, every tool mastered, every notebook filled, every failed attempt, these are seeds stored in the dark. Invisible to the world, sometimes even to us.
And then one day, a season comes where those seeds are exactly what you need to plant. The preparation turns into growth, the archive turns into a story, the scattered skills turn into a path forward.
For Anyone Still Preparing
If you feel like you’ve been stuck in “learning mode” forever, like you’ve got nothing to show while others are sprinting ahead, hear this:
- You are not behind. You are in apprenticeship.
- What looks like wasted effort now is future mastery in disguise.
- Obsessiveness isn’t madness when it prepares the ground for purpose.
One day, the strange mix of skills you’ve cultivated will line up with an opportunity, a vehicle if you will. And you’ll realize you’re not starting from zero—you’ve been preparing for this all along.
So keep learning, keep archiving, keep building your vault.
Because when the season comes, you’ll already have everything you need.
