Always keep your receipts

Keep. Your. Receipts.
If you have a process, have it documented.
Keep an archive for each year, especially when you feel that “nothing happens”.

If I were an educator in whichever topic, this would be the point that I would bring, in bold letters, to my syllabus.
(I always have two wolves fighting for my soul: Wolf number 1 is a melancholic stand-up comedian – and Wolf number 2 is a university speaker; not a professor, have never been hired as one – more of a person who grabs my peers to bring them for a walk along the corridor to fight the sedentary bias – and, at the very same time, walks them through a topic that fascinated me.)
And I definitely need to practise what I preach.

Back in the day, in my previous life, I wrote an article – a theoretical overview that meant a lot to me. In a nutshell, it was the result of several years of work.

I always imagined people who write those sorts of articles differently. A little bit more mahogany and respectable bookshelves, a little less outdated-by-the-moment-of-purchase laptops, and definitely less complicated housing situations.
Technically, it was a couple of articles, even. I can recall that at least one of them I finished sitting on a DIY bed in a flatshare in Lewisham, where we were subletting a room while we looked for a permanent – already third within a month since arrival – address in London.
(“Flatshare” and “to sublet” were the first words that entered my vocabulary without any other-language mediation.)

I recall that I had the privilege of an editorial back-and-forth with several – perfectly respectable – people. Was I perfectly respectable? Possibly, but not necessarily; see my Wolf number 1.
In any case, for that piece, I was paid.
I have never checked its subsequent fate. I don't recall receiving any further update. Well, a new country can keep you entertained for a very, very long time.

I don’t normally keep a list of my deeds from my previous lives. Yet, for another deed, I decided to make a list… and asked an AI model to “check the articles”.
(Yeah, articles – and prepositions – are my key areas of insecurity in English. They are too short to keep track of. I prefer longer words: something from Latin or Greek is normally surprisingly more transparent to me.)

The LLM was so kind (or cruel enough) to check whether the publication, or my name in connection with it, could be found online.
Nope.

I checked my long-forgotten postbox. I keep my receipts.
And I can keep this project in my archive with a modified description, without claiming something I can no longer, as they say, substantiate from the public record.

Still, keep your receipts – and update your correspondents on the status of their deeds.
Please.