The Paradox of Choice

Any views expressed in the below are the personal views of the author and should not form the basis for making investment decisions, nor be construed as a recommendation or advice to engage in investment transactions.

Good morning kings, queens, and peasants. I hope everyone has been enjoying this last two weeks of pain and suffering. I’ve been checking back in here and there, but I’ve remained largely off the grid recently with how busy I’ve been at my IRL job. Given how horrific NFT trading has been across the board, I can assure you that the latest Coinfession submission is not mine.

I realize how fortunate I’ve been to not be active recently. Knowing myself and my degenerate gambling tendencies, I would have likely gotten chopped to pieces trying to swing trade shitcoins or make some obtuse bulk NFT purchase with a terrible underlying thesis. I’m almost completely stabled at this point and clearly it’s been wise to take a cash position. Whether that was me being lazy, ignorant, or flat out lucky is up for debate, but the results are the results.

I have to say - it’s been pretty nice being unplugged. I say that because I’m close to throwing myself off a building already with work-related issues and the stress of poorly managing my crypto / NFT plays would have put me over the edge.

However, in a moment of relief, something dawned upon me yesterday evening. Let me set the scene for you.

It’s 8pm and I’m sitting outside on my deck wearing shorts and a sweatshirt during a beautiful mid-June sunset. I’m sipping on a hot cup of decaf coffee made from the finest ground coffee beans (Dunkin’ K-cup) while taking in a deep breath of fresh air. It’s dusk and the mosquitos are about to launch their united assault on my lower legs. I do not care.

Finally, I have some peace away from my computer. This feels more cathartic than reading tweets on TokyoSunbather’s timeline. I close my eyes and enjoy some alternative rock, my seasonal music genre of choice.

After about a minute of blank space, I hear a familiar inner voice creep into my mind.

“You should check your Metamask.”

I realize I hadn’t opened my Metamask in about two weeks. I wonder - who is speaking to me? Should I do it or continue enjoying my tech-disabled peace? I decide to indulge.

I open my eyes and navigate my home screen to the mobile app which I open with FaceID. An intrusive thought that I’ve had before resurfaces - Apple is likely sending my facial fingerprint to a secret underground lab where my clone is being constructed to replace me. I ignore it and check my balance. Nothing has changed.

As I’m about to lock my phone and return to my momentary bliss, I hear the same voice.

“You should check discord.”

What was once a routine habit of checking every channel in every server is now ancient history. Recently, I’ve been checking 1-2 times a day at most, primarily the Mint Media and Route 12 servers. Everything else has been irrelevant.

I open Route 12 first.

“It’s over”

“Ken Griffin is manipulating the market”

“I’m longing BNB, CZ will hunt the shorts”

I close Route 12. I check Mint Media next.

“Flat earthers think Pudgies will go below 4 ETH”

“I may be overexposed to Crecos”

“I may be overexposed to pictures”

“Beanz will become the world reserve currency”

“Why is AVAX $10?”

I close Mint Media and lock my phone again.

Chuckling to myself, I imagine the pain of my comrades navigating the hellscape that crypto has become. Binance and Coinbase are being sued. Blur farmers are getting dumped on by VC unlocks. Shitcoins are continuing to rug. An absolute bloodbath with almost no means of escape.

Without the guidance of this mysterious voice, I suddenly pick my phone up again and check Twitter which has morphed into a graveyard of loss porn, cope, seethe, anguish and possibly incriminating evidence against notorious grifters.

I scroll. And scroll and scroll and scroll again. 30 minutes go by in an instant. I flip back to discord, catching up on messages and re-engaging with those who I have been in the trenches with since last spring. I check my Metamask again to see if someone accidentally sent me 10 million dollars. Then, I reopen Twitter.

Right then and there, I have an epiphany. I have been slugging it out for the last 15 months in the most violent, risk-on and unforgiving market the world has ever known, making friends and learning lessons (read: losing my shirt) along the way. While I was mostly losing, I’ve had a handful of pretty incredible wins too. This was all because I stayed plugged in, loss after loss after loss.

What kind of schmuck would I be if I took a step back and gave away all of the time, effort and alpha that I’ve accumulated since seriously entering the space? This is the question that becomes clear to me all at once.

It’s time to get back in the game. It’s time to pay attention.

The next 6 months will separate the men from the boys like oil from water.

Don’t be afraid to be great. Bet more.

Cheers,

Chuck