FORTH's a bit of an occupational hazard of hacking, you might say. Like suicide, or being burned at the stake. (It's been two days since the anniversary of Giordano Bruno being burned at the stake for being a hacker, though he was too early to write a FORTH himself.)
I've read through ancient, forgotten books in faraway lands; I've learned strange tongues and seen fortunes won and lost; I've comforted the grieving, and I've restrained deadly robots as they wriggled to escape my grasp.
I've comforted the suicidal, and I've broken the trust of those who placed their hopes in me.
After midnight, I danced in the moonlight with a beautiful Brazilian as we stood guard outside her now-demolished ecovillage; she told me she'd thought she'd lost the ability to fall in love. We didn't need any music.
I've studied at the knee of wise elders, meditated in monasteries, translated poetry, and embraced madmen who predicted my demise in their psychotic ravings.
I've made foolish mistakes whose consequences maimed those I loved, and I've averted catastrophe innumerable times.
And most of that is even true.
Thanks for asking! I hope you're doing well too :)
Think running into 5 kangaroos in a row in NYC.