I envy a man who smokes a pipe in the open, I smoke mine only in the dark, like a shrew. In my office, between calls, while writing, while playing games, while playing games that are writing. I’ve never smoked my pipe while in a meeting. I think I’ve smoked my pipe with Jack once or twice. Sometimes I’ll smoke while I work in my shop, as long as the dust isn’t so bad. 

I really enjoy it, but simultaneously find it a bit embarassing, apparently. I wonder often how old or how esteemed I’d have to be to comfortably smoke a pipe while in a zoom meeting, I suppose it depends on the meeting and my percieved level of authority in it.

I’d smoke while chatting with Jack, but I wouldn’t for a job interview. I would while meeting with my father, maybe, but not while meeting with my other coworkers. I would if I were directing a project, I wouldn’t if I was the lowly person, which I am. 

Maybe that’s the sort of goal I ought to think of, not money or prestige, but a position where I can LARP as the cool cardigan wearing professor I’ve always wanted to be. 

The good news is that it’s merely a matter of confidence, that. I can choose to do it tomorrow and let the chips of cringe fall where they may, let people judge me.

Of course I still think about the few months where I wore a somewhat old-school looking hat, not a fedora mind, but old and wool, and how much shit I got for that, so, maybe not a pipe. Not with my coworker at least, he’s from Wales.