About a month ago, I took a weeklong work trip out to California. It was great: a perfect mix of productivity and pleasure. One of my strongest memories of the trip was of walking to the office, listening to Prince, and feeling intensely grateful. When I got back to DC, I was greeted by an angry owl. Duo, the strigiform mascot of Duolingo, emailed me to say that I hadn’t done my Spanish lesson in five days and that my 317-day streak was now but a memory. Over the next week or so, Duo seemed to pass through several stages of grief. He was sad. He tried bargaining (“Do you need a break?”). But my routine had been reset and I couldn’t get myself to go back to my lessons.
Duolingo as memento mori
Duolingo as memento mori
Duolingo as memento mori
About a month ago, I took a weeklong work trip out to California. It was great: a perfect mix of productivity and pleasure. One of my strongest memories of the trip was of walking to the office, listening to Prince, and feeling intensely grateful. When I got back to DC, I was greeted by an angry owl. Duo, the strigiform mascot of Duolingo, emailed me to say that I hadn’t done my Spanish lesson in five days and that my 317-day streak was now but a memory. Over the next week or so, Duo seemed to pass through several stages of grief. He was sad. He tried bargaining (“Do you need a break?”). But my routine had been reset and I couldn’t get myself to go back to my lessons.